By evening’s end, the new faces and conversation have successfully distracted me from dwelling on the sting of my failure with Ryder, and even though I’m still disappointed in myself for not being able to get through to him, I feel oddly grateful. There are good people in this town, and the way they’ve welcomed me with open arms inspires me to keep trying.Seems like this move could be good personally as well as professionally.
Chapter thirteen
Ryder
Something he’ll remember forever. Those words play over and over in my mind as I climb on the bus, dazed from feeling too many emotions at once.
Remember forever. That was supposed to be me. And Chase. The last time we rode together—what should’ve been the last time I rode at all. It was supposed to stay that way, so no other memory could replace it. No memory on the mountain, anyway.
Even before I fucked that up, the details of that day were starting to get blurry around the edges. I knew that would happen over time, it always does, especially when you don’t know in the moment that you’ll have a need to remember every last detail. That you’ll want to recall how you both hit the same jump, one after the other, in such perfect synchronization it’s like watching instant replay. Or the way you raced down the hill, marveling at how well he kept up despite the fact only you raced professionally.
It’s not like there was any special occasion to mark the day, like a birthday or holiday. There wasn’t even any fresh powder to enjoy. It was just another day, until it became the last one we shared together. And it was supposed to stay like that, indefinitely.
Now it’s gone. It’s no longer the last time I ever rode, it’s the last time I rode withChase. Some people might not see the distinction, but it’s the only thing I see. One more example of how things move on when he can’t. And I let it happen.
I should’ve fought harder. Balked more when Carter gave me his ultimatum or called his bluff about having my probation revoked. The judge might’ve considered it blackmail, which it kind of is considering the resort makes money off my image. Instead, I caved at the first sign of adversity. One tiny threat and I put my board on like a good little soldier, ready for his next order.
But it didn’t stop there. Another command came down the pipeline, and when it did, I ended up back on the mountain withhim.
The more time I spend with Hayden, the less he seems to dislike me, and Ineedhim to dislike me. I need him to look at me without seeing the guy who lost his brother. To treat me like any other jerk instead of making exceptions or walking on eggshells, afraid to hurt my already shredded feelings.
I can already see the cracks in his icy regard for me. They started forming right about the time he learned about Chase. I don’t know who told him—I’m actually surprised it took as long as it did for him to find out—and to this day he’s never specifically mentioned it. But he knows. How could he not when suddenly my DUI was a mistake I get to try to rectify, not a character flaw.
I liked it better when he assumed my drinking was a character flaw, and he didn’t hold back what he thought about it, or me. If he starts treating me with kid gloves now…
Frosty’s mouthy little comebacks are the only thing that give me pleasure most days. If they stop, I’ll either be bored out of my mind or, worse, I’ll have to push him away entirely before he starts to actually like me.
Right now, I think any interest he has in me is purely physical. He doesn’t like me exactly, but he doesn’t hate me either, and he damn sure doesn’t mind looking at me. Until today, I wasn’t sure of that—I clocked a few lingering looks, which weren’t exactly concrete evidence—but after the way he watched me change in the locker room… His secret’s out.
I don’t care if he finds me hot—pretty sure I feel the same about him—it just can’t go beyond that. It can’t become more than what we started out as. Jailer, coworker, enemy—we can put any label on it as long as it isn’t friend. I’ve got enough of those trying to meddle in my life, I don’t need another. I just have to hope he doesn’t think of himself that way already considering what I did in the locker room.
A girl pauses on her way down the aisle, eyeing the empty seat next to me, and moving on when she gets a look at the scowl on my face.
It’s not for her, but I’m more than happy not to have her in my space. Too bad I wasn’t wearing it in the locker room earlier.
Call it instinct. Or muscle memory. Either way, it was a serious lapse in judgment to give Frosty a fucking massage, and I’m still pissed at myself for doing it. He was sore, so what. I knew he would be, and I could’ve sent him off to a hot tub or a warm shower, same as anyone else after a day on the slopes. Instead, I touched him. And deep down,I liked it.
The way his woodsy shampoo filled my nose when his head shifted, the way his knees would go weak when I hit a sensitive spot. It made my body wake up, something only he has been able to do these last several months, and while that alone isn’t terrifying, the implications of it are. And I’m not talking about the physical implications.
Yeah, it’s nice to have confirmation that things are in working order, and even though it’s surprising to have that confirmed by a guy, I’m not freaking out about that. I’m freaking out about the fact thatthisguy strikes me as the relationship kind, and if we both find ourselves wanting to scratch the physical itch…
Nope. Can’t go there. I can’t entertain the idea of more. I already did one thing Chase can’t ever do again, which I swore not to do. I can’t add a second, especially given how much I enjoyed the first.
I didn’t want to like riding with Max. I didn’t want to say yes, but that damn cute kid has a way of getting under your skin, and considering the circumstances, I thought Chase would forgive it. That’s probably why I didn’t push back harder against Carter’s directive to put me on the mountain. I think I missed riding and tried to justify it using the kid. Even though it nearly made me sick at first, I ended up liking it. With both of them.
Max is oddly graceful despite his handicap. All laughter, smiles, and excitement. Hayden is more tiny little grunts and squeals, not to mention all sorts of uncoordinated, but he's determined to not give up. He actually made a lot of progress for one day, and his smile when he almost did a turn on his own was so fucking real and full of joy, I almost smiled back.
For just a moment, the weight of not having Chase was lifted, and I basked in the familiar pleasure of sliding over the snow. The sense of floating even though you’re still tethered to the ground. It was peaceful. Cathartic.
I don’t deserve that. I can’t take it back, but I can avoid doing it again by keeping Hayden firmly in the jailer/enemy zone instead of... whatever else we could be. I only know of one way to guarantee he stays there though, and lucky for me, there’s a liquor store on this bus route.
***
A sharp pain stabs through my skull as my entire body jolts from the effort of having to yank the door open. I wonder—not for the first time—how the physically challenged people we’re supposed to be helping can open it if it's hard for me. Not that I’m a model of coordination right now, lack of sleep will have that effect, but the door is a pain in the ass and I’m not operating with their handicaps.
Oops—I mean their disabilities.
Look at me being all politically correct and shit.
