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“Says you. I love my snuggle days.”

“It’ll be fun to watch him getting into things.”

I huff a sigh as I look around the apartment. “We should really start baby proofing.”

“What’s there to baby proof? It’s not like we have stairs.”

“I’ll remind you of those words when he’s splashing in the toilet.”

Tate considers. “All right, we’ve got a little baby proofing to do.”

“Yeah. How’s all that baby curiosity sounding now?”

Tate beams at me with all the confidence in the world. “Like a dream, sweetheart.” He bends to press his warm lips to my forehead. “Like a dream.”

26

WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?

JULY 2010 – 18 YEARS OLD

“How's my favorite nephew?”

Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I snort into the phone. “You mean your only nephew?”

Andy laughs a low, husky sound.

She's really come into this part of herself these last months. She’s always felt a little other with her bead and rope bracelets. The henna has been traded for copper bangles and crystal set rings. She’s all long skirts and mystical, witchy vibes. She feels deliciously, if a bit dangerously, seductive.

Yeah, she's really come into all of herself since she broke things off with Micah.

“Yeah, yeah, he's my only nephew.” I can practically hear her eyes roll. “He can still be my favorite.”

Who am I to deny that?

“This is true.”

I mean, how could Owen not be her favorite? He's my favorite person. I can't imagine loving someone else the way that I love him. It's all-encompassing, this love.

There was a time when I thought I loved Holt the most. When I thought I would do anything for him. It's amazing how fast my love for Holt took second place to Owen, before I even knew his name. Before I ever saw his face or lost myself in his dark, melted chocolate eyes.

Now, my love for Holt is a distant thing. There are even days where I don't think of him at all. Days where the guilt doesn't take a chunk out of me—those sharp teeth have been shaved down with time. The nip and snap of my shame is less.

It’s easier, I’ll admit, now that hockey is on pause.

“How's class going?” I ask Andy as I push Holt from my mind. That, too, is easier than it once was. There was a time when a simple reminder of him would send me into a spiral for hours. Now…now it’s just different somehow.

“It's great. I love it. I think I'm going to extend the course.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Art is—it's like this thing that talks to my soul.” She sighs. “I feel happy, Faye.”

“Are you planning to get a place in Calgary, then?” Andy has been driving to Calgary from Rubble Ridge every day for class. I can’t imagine she’ll continue for much longer.

“Oh, I don't know. It's expensive in the city. Living with my parents is free.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I mutter. “I miss you, though, you know? It feels like I never see you anymore.”