“My guess is that this wasn’t about you at all,” Wilder said.

“I’m exhausted on a cellular level.” Edie stretched. “So tired even getting a back rub feels like work. Thanks for helping out at the last minute. Did Grandma keep you on your toes?”

“She’s a tough old bird,” Archer said. “I’m glad you spent some time together, although I wish it were under better circumstances.”

When Wilder got Quinn out to the car, he paused. “Grandma is a tough old bird. Sorry about what she said, about you having kids.”

“It’s fine.”

“Not really. She hurt you.”

“People accidentally hurt each other all the time.”

“Still doesn’t make it right. You can bear more than most people. But that doesn’t mean it’s okay or that you should have to. When is the last time anyone took care of you?”

“I . . .”

“Do you trust me?”

“I—yeah I do, so help me.”

“I want to take you someplace special. It’s near my house.”

“Now you’ve gone and gotten me all intrigued.”

He turned on the radio and “Little Drummer Boy” was playing.

“This is my favorite Christmas song,” they both said at the same time.

“For real?” Quinn said, surprised. “Why do you love it?”

Wilder was quiet for so long she wondered if maybe he’d never answer. “Guess I like how the little boy played his best, and everyone stood there, watching, waiting. He stepped up to the challenge.”

Quinn tried and failed to swallow the lump in her throat. “You know you’re the same way, right?”

“Trouble, I’ve pretended that for a long time, but now I know better. I’ve been running scared for years.”

“Your accident changed so much about your life. But look how well you are doing. Honestly, you should be proud.”

“There is so much I’m not proud of.”

“Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Did you know part of the reason why I moved here is because I got fired. I thought my boss was being friendly, inviting me inside his house in Laurel Canyon after his big premiere. He was in his late fifties—it never even occurred to me that he might think of me in that way.” She took off her glasses and polished the lenses. “He said that I’d been doing a great job, that he wanted to thank me. I was picturing a glass of wine before driving back to my apartment. I mean, he had daughters my age. Instead, he wanted to show his appreciation in a different way.”

“He fucking touched you?” Wilder gripped the wheel so hard she was afraid it would rip off.

“He wanted to, tried even. But instead, I touched him. In the nose. With my fist.”

He rumbled his approval. “Good girl.”

“His cries woke his wife up. I’m so stupidly naïve. I thought that she would jump to my defense. It wasn’t her fault she married a creep. Instead, she called me a . . . how did she put it again?” Quinn tapped the side of her chin. “Ah, yes, ‘a home-wrecking whore,’ I believe was the phrase. She was more worried that he’d have facial bruising for his big advertising shoot the next day than the fact that he tried to tune in Tokyo with my boobs. This was right after my dad started going downhill fast, and it seemed like the universe was telling me in a very non-subtle way that I needed to get to Brightwater.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you. But I’m not sorry you’re here.” He cracked his neck, the pop audible over the music. “Which is a shitty and selfish thing to say.”

“No. No, it’s not. I’m glad I’m here too. Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of fun aspects to working in Hollywood, but the thing is, eventually everything feels superficial, plastic. I would have had to get away eventually. The only reason I moved there was because my mom’s sixth husband got me a job right out of college. I figured my public relations résumé would look better if I had A-list cred. But the thing I learned was that I didn’t even really like PR. I don’t enjoy spin.”

“You wouldn’t. You are one of the least bullshit people I know.”

“I’m working at A Novel Experience and trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I’ll know more in two weeks. After the test results come in.”

“Will the results change your plans?”

“They must. I’m living with an axe over my head.” She mimed a chopping action.

“What if . . . what if . . .” He sounded like he was choking on the words.

“The test is positive?” She let out a long, slow breath. “I still want to be there for Dad, but I’ll need to make a bucket list. Except I guess it should be called the Loose Marbles List.”

“Don’t joke,” he snapped. “Not about this.”

“It’s like whistling in the dark.” Her smile held no humor. “If I can’t laugh while facing terrible things then I don’t have any weapons at all. If I can look at the worst and still find a way to smile, maybe I’m keeping some of the power for myself. Maybe the bad guys don’t get a chance to win everything. Except the bad guy in this scenario is still me.” She gave her forehead a rueful tap. “Or at least my asshole brain.”

He balled his hand into a fist and knocked the side of his leg. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Fine, but it’s still true.”

He turned down Castle Lane and then, just before his driveway, made a quick right onto an unmarked road that Quinn hadn’t noticed. “My mom used to take me here. I was the oldest so I used to get picked by her when she went collecting.”

“Collecting?”

“She was into dried flowers as a hobby, would make botanical plates, or put them in homemade soap or do bookmarks for Christmas and birthdays. I was her assistant. Sawyer and Archer would stay home. Dad would take them on a horse or throw the ball around with them. She said she liked us having special time. It wasn’t like I was her favorite or anything. She had a thing she liked to do with each of us.”

“She sounds really wonderful.”

“She was.” He turned off the engine. “I’ve come back here since but never gone in. Never felt right, until now.”

“Gone in?”

“You’ll see.” He got out, walked around, and opened her door, taking her hand. “The snow looks like it’s a little deep in places but we should see fine with the moon this full.”

“What about you and walking?”

He arched a thick brow. “I’ll lean on you if I have to.”

She smiled. “That’s good, I’d like that.”

Their boots crunched the snow. Up ahead a cluster of dark shapes appeared in a circle. Deer.

“What are they doing?” she asked, watching as they stood in a circle, heads down, pawing at the snow.

“I leave them cracked corn,” Wilder said. “Helps them during the winter. I’ve never told anyone about this place. I guess people know, but I like to think it’s mine.” He helped her over a fallen log and the river became louder. “Here we are, Obsidian Hot Springs.”

“Hot springs?” The clearing was small, canopied by wide branches, heavily laden with a thick dusting of snow. In the river’s eddy was a small pool ringed by large stones stacked into a curving wall. By rights the water temperature should be freezing, but visible steam wafted up into the dark. “You want to skinny dip?” She glanced around nervously.

“No one else is going to come here tonight.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“It’s simple.” He stepped forward, grinding down her jacket’s zipper. “You. Me. Nothing else.”

“I’m nervous.”

“I’ve seen you naked before.”

“I know it’s stupid.”

“No, I get it. It’s different to get naked in front of someone not in the heat of the moment. I’m nervous too. Nervous you’ll look at my body and laugh.”

“Just as an FYI, laughing isn’t the first thing that comes to my mind when I see you naked.”

He kissed her then, soft, slow, nothing urgent. He kissed her like they had time, as if they were two lovers who had a future in front of them.

“This isn’t just sex between us,” she breathed into his mouth.

“Not on your life.” He peeled back her jacket and hung it off a nearby branch. “I’ve done the no-strings sex thing. That’s all I’ve ever done.”