Elle ran over the notes she’d been keeping on her phone while she waited for her green tea at Strange Brew, the local coffee shop. She’d chosen a seat at the back, hoping she would blend into the crowd. It was ski season, so the place was full, but at least a quarter of the occupants lived in Canyon Creek full-time. The chances of someone running into her and wanting to chat were high. Normally, she liked getting out and seeing people. Today, she was on edge and had a feeling she wouldn’t make good company.

Unless that company was Emmett.

She hadn’t heard from him in two days, not since she’d given him her journal. Letting go of that piece of her heart had been hard but he needed to know what she’d been through in her own words. When she’d given him the journal, she believed revealing her most intimate thoughts would help him understand her motives.

Now she was beginning to wonder if she’d made a mistake in trusting him with those thoughts. No, not just thoughts, her journal contained her most intimate feelings, her fears, her anger, her despair, all the turmoil she’d felt when she went through her treatment. There was a huge piece of herself in the pages of that journal.

“Hey.”

The deep voice cut through Elle’s thoughts. She would recognize it anywhere.

Looking up, she found Emmett staring down at her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets. He seemed unsure of what to say next and Elle held his gaze. He was here and that gave her hope.

“Elle,” Lina, called from the counter, holding up a cup. Lina Bianchis’ family owned the local Italian restaurant but for some reason she chose not to be part of the family business. Elle smiled at Lina and stepped over to grab her tea.

Elle returned and noticed Emmett still hovered near the table, as though he wasn’t sure if he could sit.

“Do you want coffee?” she asked.

He shook his head.

Elle glanced out the window, then back at Emmett. “Maybe we could take a walk?”

Emmett nodded. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Elle scooped up her phone, tucking it into her purse then followed him out the door, waving goodbye to Lina.

They walked down Main Street in comfortable silence and Elle clutched her tea, admiring the small town of Canyon Creek.

Several tourists were already out, visiting the local shops and businesses. The store fronts were small, most family owned, and relied on tourism just as much as the resort.

They turned toward Old Settler’s Park, the majestic Canyon Creek Mountain now in full view as the sounds of the creek rang in the distance. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” she said in reverence.

“You don’t miss New York?”

She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Some days, yes. Some days, no.”

“What about today?”

She shook her head and smiled, turning to face him. “Today? No. I’m glad I’m in Canyon Creek today.”

“Do you think about going back someday? To New York I mean.”

She studied his face, wondering where his questions were coming from. “To visit, but not live permanently, if that’s what you mean.”

“But you said it was hard to leave New York. In your journal.”

He’d read it.

She drew in a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to steady.

“Of course, I miss New York,” she said. “It’s a fabulous city. I had amazing friends and mentors. And the company I danced with was phenomenal. They all taught me so much, about dancing…and life.”

“But?”

What was he really asking? Elle tilted her head at the boy who’d been her best friend almost all her life. He’d grown into a man she didn’t know, but hoped to connect with again someday.

She rubbed her arms to warm herself. It was March and the temperatures were still cold this time of year in Colorado.

Emmett took off his coat, and wrapped it around her shoulders without comment. It was a move he’d made countless times. As always, his jacket swallowed her up. She tugged the edges around her shoulders and snuggled inside, drawing in a deep breath, wrapped in his familiar scent. Suddenly she felt safe and secure, as if she were physically in his arms.

“Come on,” Elle nodded toward the swing set, slipping her hand into Emmett’s in a gesture that felt natural. She held her breath for a split second, praying he wouldn’t pull away or refuse to go with her.

Instead, he squeezed her hand.

She began to breathe again as they took their spots on the playground, her in one swing, him next to her, their hands still connected as the swings moved back in forth in a synchronized motion that soothed Elle. For the first time in a long time, she truly felt at peace.

* * *

“Hot chocolate?” Emmett asked, nodding toward her cup. Being with Elle made it hard to think, hard to breathe.

She used to have the opposite effect on him. There was a time he felt more relaxed with her than anyone in the world. Now, there was tension between them and he hated it. At least he had her hand.

Elle shook her head. “Green tea.”

Emmett feigned a shocked look. “Tell me you haven’t had to give up hot chocolate.”

She laughed at his playful gesture and shook her head. “No matter what my prognosis, I refuse to give up chocolate. I did have to have the resort start offering the hot cocoa made with almond milk instead of cow’s milk, but no one had an issue with it. Alternative offerings are all the rage nowadays.”

She didn’t have to tell Emmett about the signature hot chocolate at the resort. He was surprised her family had allowed any changes to the old family recipe, but then again, he guessed they’d do anything to make Elle happy. And healthy.

He knew the feeling.

Elle blew on her tea and he’d be damned if he could keep his eyes off the small oh shape of her puckered lips.

God, her lips. He loved how full and round and—

He released her hand and held on to the chain of the swing for balance.

“They’re predicting snow later tonight,” she said.

“What?” he choked out, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

She glanced over at him, her brows furrowed, staring at him like he was crazy.

Maybe he was.

“Snow,” she repeated. “I can’t wait. I love the snow.” She smiled and stared off at the mountain, the peak visible from their seat on the swings.

“Yeah,” Emmett leaned back in his seat, “you always did.” He gazed up at the sky.

Dark clouds had rolled in, much like his mood.

He’d read Elle’s entire journal. The diary had chronicled her journey through diagnosis and treatment of her cancer. Emmett had wondered numerous times how she’d made it through. Realizing he hadn’t been there pained him. If possible, as he read, Emmett found himself falling more in love with Elle Noble than ever, the traces of bitterness and anger slowly dissipating. But he’d been left with a heartache he couldn’t explain.

Where did he even start? Drawing in a deep breath of freezing air, he turned toward Elle and steadied himself.

“You read my journal?” she asked before he could speak, staring down at her cup.

“Yes,” he finally answered. He turned from her, afraid of what he might find in her eyes, and stared at the mountain ahead. It seemed neither could look at the other. He watched the tiny dots he knew were skiers traversing the slopes. Some of the runs on Canyon Creek Mountain were among the most challenging Colorado had to offer. Still, tourism was down all over Colorado, so their town suffered despite its draws.

“And?” Elle said quietly.

Unable to keep from looking at her, he turned.

She was staring back, her blue eyes wide, her expression guarded. The look broke his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her head tilted to the side and she frowned. “For what?”

“For not being there for you. For making you feel worse than you already do.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry, Emmett. I shouldn’t have left you, well, not without telling you why. It’s just, I was so confused and scared and—”

Emmett reached out and grabbed the chains of her swing, turning her to face him before pulling her close. “I don’t want to worry about blame, Elle. It doesn’t matter. We’ve lost a lot of time, time we could have had being together, supporting one another.”

Her eyes darted between his, her expression just as bewildered as his. What was he saying?

“Listen,” he breathed, releasing her swing and moving back. He needed space between them to keep his mind from turning to mush. “I can’t go back to where we were in New York.” He looked at her and shook his head. He couldn’t put his heart out there again the way he had with her that night. “But I can be your friend. I think we can be that to each other again, don’t you?”

She nodded and smiled.

The truth was, not having her as a friend had left a huge hole in him he hadn’t realized had been there. Emmett didn’t want to keep feeling this way anymore. And if her smile was any indication, neither did she.

“I’ve missed you, Els” he said. There was so much more he could say, probably should say, but he didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling, or if he should.

“I wanted to tell you,” she said. “So many times. But, I just couldn’t put that on you.”

Emmett felt a knot of frustration tighten in his gut but worked hard to ignore the feeling. It was strange, wanting to comfort her but also wanting to scream in exasperation.

Elle had purposely kept something from him—no that wasn’t right, it wasn’t something she’d kept from him, it was herself. She’d kept herself from him. She’d taken away his choice to be there when she needed him the most. And he knew she’d needed him. Her journal had said as much. There had been entries when she was clearly struggling even to write and she’d cried for him, cried because she needed him and couldn’t have him.

“Els,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I understand why you think you needed to protect me, but you need to know, there’s always going to be a part of me that’s disappointed in you for that. You took the choice away from me. Hell,” he shook his head, “that’s not even the right word. There wouldn’t have been a choice for me. I would have been there for you without a doubt, had I known. It wouldn’t have been possible for me to walk away. Knowing you went through that alone kills me.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, each reflective of the choices they’d made and the consequences that followed.

“I missed having you to talk to,” Emmett finally said. “When I signed that first publishing deal, I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. Having you around to talk to would have helped,” he said. He wanted to take her hand, grip it tight, but he held back.

“But you’re a fabulous writer, Emmett. I’m not surprised at all you got signed. And look at you now.” Her face lit with pride. “You’re a bestselling author.”

“That’s just it.” He sighed. How could he tell her this, admit his fears? Especially when what she’d faced had been so much more devastating? She’d fought the most important battle of her life, and won. Everything seemed trivial compared to that.

“Tell me,” she said, resting her hand on his thigh.

He glanced down for a heartbeat, wondering what he should do, then instinctively placed his hand over hers. Hers was freezing. He told himself that was why he was touching her. “We should go inside.” He glanced around, finding no shelter. They’d have to walk back to the center of town to find any place warm, unless they walked to the library.

Elle shook her head and grinned. “You’re the master of changing the subject, Mr. Sumner. I won’t go inside, not until you finish.”

“So stubborn,” he muttered.

“Hello pot…” She laughed and Emmett joined in. This is what he’d missed about Elle the most. The easiness, the familiarity that only came from years of knowing one another.

“I feel like the whole ‘bestselling author crap—’ he used air quotes— “is a fluke.”

She cocked her head. “Why?”

“Do you know what I wanted to do when my agent called and said one of the big five publishers wanted to sign me?”

“Throw up?” she laughed.

“Call you.”

Elle leaned away, her expression falling flat.

“You were the only thing I could think about that day. You were the one who believed in me, who encouraged me. The book they wanted was one I’d started in high school. I’d never had time to finish it, until you left.”

“The short story about the abused teenager? The Musings of a Dying Girl?” she asked.

Of course, she would know. “Yes,” he nodded and gave another shrug, knowing he was offering more of those than he was words. But how could he tell her the excitement over signing that deal hadn’t been the same without her. “It was exciting, at first, but then the publisher wanted more and more books, and there were other deadlines and…”

“You’ve never written well under pressure,” she said.

He shook his head. “I did it, but I hated it. I still do. I feel like no one understands. I love and loathe it. Have you ever felt that way about dance?”

A sad expression washed over her face as she shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved it, even when my toes were bleeding.”

“Have you danced again? Since your treatment? I know you stayed in New York for a while.” Emmett couldn’t recall her talking of dancing in her journal.

“I danced some, but never professionally again. The company I worked for was amazing—the principles and dancers supported me so much during treatment and after. And, so did the school when they found out. Both allowed me to do some choreography while I recovered, but I couldn’t dance professionally after that. My stamina still isn’t what it used to be. I can do one or two dances, but I doubt I could do an entire program now.”

“I’m sorry,” Emmett said.

“Don’t be. I actually discovered I loved choreography. And teaching.”

Emmett smiled. “You always liked to boss people around.”

Elle pushed his shoulder, sending their swings in a crooked sideways arch. “Only you, Emmett. And it was usually because you were wrong.”

Emmett grabbed her hand when their swings came back together and clasped it in his. “You’re freezing, Elle. Can we go inside now?”

She nodded once, glancing down at her cup. “Yeah, even my tea is almost frozen. Cold hot chocolate is okay, but cold tea isn’t the same as hot.”

“You get that iced tea is a thing, right?”

Elle wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I never liked it. That reminds me, though.” She stopped her swing, excitement washing over her face. “I’ve been thinking we should offer frozen hot chocolate.”

Emmett laughed and he felt the tension in his body ease. His Elle had returned, transformed in front of his eyes. He stood and pulled her up with him, sliding his hand into hers. “Isn’t frozen hot chocolate an oxymoron?”

“It’s a thing. I think it could work.”

He shook his head. “People coming in from the slopes to an ice-cold cup of frozen hot chocolate?”

Elle shrugged and tossed her head as she led the way back toward the street. “We do a fair bit of business in the summer.”

It was true. They had plenty of people interested in tubing down the slopes when the snow melted. And there was mountain bike riding and rock climbing.

Emmett grinned and shook his head. “Still, an oxymoron.”

They bickered the rest of the way to town over whether the drinks would need to be called chocolate shakes or frozen hot chocolate, but Emmett didn’t care. It felt like old times. Having cleared the air with Elle made him feel ten times lighter.

They were different people now, older and hopefully wiser. Emmett realized they would never be as close as they’d been during their one night in New York. Elle hadn’t really wanted him, she’d only needed an escape. The thought stung a little but part of him was glad she’d found solace in him and not in another man.

Elle was safe now, happy and healthy. She was alive. And she was only a friend, nothing more, he reminded himself. He would take that. Emmett breathed in deeply, knowing that’s all they ever would be. If she left him again, he’d never survive. He would have to be content with friendship.

Still, something in his heart ached for more.