Free Kyland (Sign of Love #7) by Mia Sheridan Page A

frown creasing his brow. I looked back down, my chest squeezing. I didn't blame him for not wanting to kiss me. Who would want to kiss the daughter of the town crazy? Who would want to attach himself to a girl like me? The thing I heard kids whispering at school sometimes was true—I was nothing but trailer trash. He might be poor, too, but his parents didn't humiliate him in public. In fact, his father and his brother died heroically, working hard to provide for their family. My own father had taken one look at me and hit the road.
    "Kyland," I said again.
    "Yes, Tenleigh?" he repeated.
    I lifted my head and met his eyes—dark and in shadow in the dim light of the covered doorway. "I have to tell you something."
    He lifted his hand and used his thumb to wipe away a tear still on my cheek. "What do you have to tell me?" he asked softly.
    "I'm not really the daughter of a Russian prince."
    He blinked at me and then laughed, sudden and deep and warm.
    I let out a small laugh, too, and started to remove myself from his arms. But he held me tighter so I sunk back into him, knowing I was all over the place and suddenly not caring. I needed some tenderness. God knew I did. And right that second, I was going to take what Kyland was offering me. It may be temporary, but it would be enough for now.
    "No family jewels?" he asked.
    I shook my head. "Not even a family pebble. Not even a family grain of sand."
    I heard his lips move into a smile.
    "That was just a stupid pretend game my sister and I used to play."
    "It wasn't stupid," he murmured.
    "It was," I said, my voice breaking again. Kyland didn't answer, but his arms tightened around me. I wished I had known that it was dangerous for girls like us to pretend to be princesses. In that moment, dreaming of anything felt dangerous. Dreams failed, and when they did, reality hurt that much more.
    "I have to tell you something, too," he said.
    "What?" I sniffled.
    "There aren't really any bobcats on our mountain. I mean, there are, but they're no danger to us. The 'Bobcat Protection Service' was all a ruse."
    "I know," I said softly. I had enjoyed his company, too. I figured that's why he had told me that.
    We held on to each other in the doorway for a little while until the wind changed directions and found us again and we both started shivering.
    "I need to get you home," Kyland said, helping me to a standing position.
    "I'm okay now." I let out a small sound of embarrassment. "I know you left Shelly behind—"
    "Shelly got a ride with her brothers. I went for the food and the heat." He stuffed his hands in his pockets.
    Oh.
    "Yeah, me too," I admitted. We both looked down and when we looked back at each other, we each let out an embarrassed laugh.
    "Tenleigh . . . I'm sorry I kissed you." He grimaced. "I mean, shit . . . I'm not sorry I kissed you. What I'm sorry about is that I'm not going to do it again." He laughed a small, uncomfortable laugh. "I mean, I'm sorry for me, not for you. I know I'm missing out. I'm missing . . . The truth is, Tenleigh," vulnerability washed over his expression, "you might have noticed, I'm not exactly a catch anyway."
    Sympathy filled me. I guessed the truth was that neither of us were exactly a catch—somehow though, that didn't make me feel better. And somehow, Kyland telling me he wasn't a catch felt like a lie he didn't even know he was telling.
    "I don't have anything to offer. In six months, I won't even be here," he said.
    "Kyland," I interrupted, "how about this, let's just be friends. I could use a friend, I guess." I paused, thinking. "And when we both leave here, under whatever circumstances we do, when we both are catches, we'll remember fondly the friend we once had back home and that'll be that. Okay? Simple." My eyes welled up with tears again and I wasn't even sure why. It didn't feel simple. I wished it did. "Do you have any friends?" I asked. So often, I'd seen him alone.
    He shook his head, staring at me, the wheels turning behind