How many names blur together for him now?
I swallow them down.
What if I’m just one more?
The warm water suddenly doesn’t feel quite as soothing.I force a smile when Dana says something to me that I barely catch. I answer on instinct. Laugh when everyone else laughs. Keep my expression light.
Inside, though, something small and stupid has started to ache.
I already know sex with Grayson means more to me than it should, more than is smart, more than is safe.But hearing them joke about all the women that came before me leaves this ugly little feeling under my ribs, one I can’t quite shake loose. I don't care about his body count, not really, but what it actually means forme.
By the time we all drift back upstairs, pruny and warm and smelling faintly of chlorine, Mandy is clinging to Jackson’s arm, Dana is sleepy, and Wade is still arguing with Cole about some ancient ski story no one else cares about.
Grayson walks beside me for part of the way, quiet. When we break off from the rest at the door to our room, he steps aside and lets me go in first.
It's dim and quiet when we step inside, the only light coming from the bedside lamp I left on earlier. But the tension from our argument lingers like smoke in the air.
Grayson moves past me without a word, grabs one of the spare blankets from the closet, and tosses it over the back of the couch like this was always the plan.He doesn’t even look particularly put out by it.
It should be a relief.Instead, watching him settle himself onto the admittedly too-small couch with zero complaint makes me feel like I've made the wrong choice here. Guilt gnaws at the back of my throat.
I stand there for a beat too long before going to the bathroom to change and take my makeup off, then climb onto the mattress and pull the covers up.
The room goes quiet after the lamp clicks off.
The faint hum of the heating system and the wind beyond the windows are the only sounds that remain. Grayson shifts once on the couch, then goes still.
I stare into the dark until it drags me under.
Chapter 23
Carly
Eight Weeks
I knowI’m in trouble the second we get to the slopes.
Not because I fall getting off the shuttle from the lodge, though that should probably be my first clue.Not because every single person in our group looks disgustingly competent in ski gear either.
No. It’s because the second we stop near the racks and Wade starts talking about which run they should warm up on, everyone nods like he is speaking English, and I smile along like I’m not about three seconds away from being exposed as a fraud.
There are people everywhere. Skiers sliding straight down bright white slopes, kids no older than seven weaving around adults like tiny winter Olympians, snowboarders gliding over packed snow. The cold air bites at every inch of my uncovered skin, sharp and clean in my lungs.
I should be excited.Iamexcited.
But I'm also increasingly aware that I may have made a terrible mistake.
Mandy adjusts her goggles on top of her head and grins at me. “This is going to be so fun.”
“Totally,” I say, trying not to let my voice wobble.
Dana at least has the grace to look a little less aggressively athletic than the others. “You good?”
“Mhm.”The lie comes out way too fast.
Grayson glances over at me, one brow cocked like he canhearthe lie in my voice.
He’s got on a black jacket and black snow pants, his face hidden partly behind the mask over his mouth. There is something deeply offensive about a man being this attractive while also clicking into skis like he was born doing it.
