“That must be nice.”
“Some families you’re born with, and some you choose.”
His hand runs over my chin when he says it, and my heart skips a beat. I want him to choose me. I want to be part of something more than myself.
“I’ve never had either.”
I don’t usually talk about my past, but with Kray I feel like I can open up. I find myself telling him about my alcoholic mom, about being passed around from foster home to foster home.
Kray listens attentively. There’s no pity in his eyes, no judgement. He just lets me talk.
“I never had a family. I’ve never belonged anywhere.”
Kray’s hand brushes my cheek, and he cups my chin. Pinpricks of heat emanate from his touch, making me shiver—in a good way.
“You belong here, Cleo.” He takes my hand and presses it to his heart. “You belong with me.”
My breath catches at his words, and my heart thumps in my chest. No one’s ever given me a place to belong. But he can’t know how serious those words are to me.
It’s the kind of thing guys say to girls all the time. I doubt he means it the way I need him to mean it.
But for a few moments, it’s nice to pretend.
Kray’s face is so close to mine I can smell grease and soap. I can see the different shades of darkness in his eyes, the golden flecks around the iris and the deep chocolate of the outside.
Then he’s kissing me, his firm lips making my cold lips sing. Warm energy flows through me, and for a moment, I believe Kray’s right. I do belong. Right here, in this moment.
Kray’s hand slides around my head, tangling in my hair and deepening the kiss.
Our tongues collide, and I slide closer to him on the boulder. I want to be close to him. I want this. My body wants this.
A cold, icy spike hits my face. Then another.
I pull away quickly as thick snowflakes hit my cheeks.
“It’s snowing.”
I tilt my head to the sky, to the gray cloud that has finally opened. Snowflakes float down around us.
I’ve never seen it snow in Texas before.
My smile widens as Kray takes my hand. We sit in silence, watching the thick flakes fall over Bourbon. Until it gets too cold and not even the heat of Kray’s body pressed next to me can stop the shivering.
We climb on the bike and ride home as the snow comes in flurries around us. This time I rest my head against Kray’s back, not caring what he thinks of me. I’m hungry for his warmth as we ride home.
10
KRAY
It’s five on Christmas morning, and I’m warming my hands in front of the industrial oven that’s currently cooking breakfast for a hundred kids.
I haven’t been up this early on Christmas Day since I was a kid checking if Santa Claus had come to the house.
Christmas music plays in the kitchen as a team of volunteers butters bread and prepares scrambled eggs for the kids who will be arriving in a few hours.
Cleo has an apron tied over her trademark all-black outfit, no colors even for Christmas, and a wide smile on her face as she peels potatoes. She’s leading the kitchen team of volunteers who are mostly ex-foster kids like her.
Some children will be here for breakfast while we’re expecting about two hundred for lunch, plus their foster families if they want to join us.