Page 42 of The Route to You

Kyle hit the jump too fast.

She knew it instantly—the angle, the speed, the way his balance was just a hair off. He launched anyway, board lifting cleanly off the snow, body stretched out in a way that would have been beautiful if it weren’t so obviously a terrible idea.

For one second, he was airborne and grinning.

Then, he landed wrong.

His board slapped down crooked, his weight pitched forward, and he tried to recover and didn’t.

Kyle wiped out hard.

Snow exploded around him as he tumbled, rolling once, twice, before sliding to a stop in a sprawl of limbs and board.

Sloan’s heart lurched into her throat.

She dug in her edges and cut hard toward him, barely aware of Francesca following. By the time she reached him, Kyle was already pushing himself up, helmet dusted white, laughing like he’d just gotten off a roller coaster.

“Did you see that?” he called. “I totally had it . . . until I didn’t.”

“Are you insane?” Sloan snapped, skidding to a stop beside him. “You could have broken your neck!”

Kyle grinned up at her. “But I didn’t.”

She hated how relieved she felt.

Before she could stop herself, she dropped to a knee beside him, one hand grabbing his arm, the other bracing against his shoulder. “Are you actually okay?”

He went still at her touch.

For a split second, the noise of the mountain faded—no wind, no laughter, no scrape of skis. Just him looking up at her, something quieter and more serious flickering behind the grin.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m okay.”

Her hand was still on his arm.

She realized it and pulled back like she’d been burned.

“Good,” she said stiffly, standing. “Because that was stupid.”

Kyle’s grin came back, slower this time. “You say that like it’s new information.”

Dean slid up beside them, breathless and delighted. “That was amazing.”

Francesca arrived a second later and smacked Dean’s arm. “You’re both idiots.”

Kyle pushed himself fully upright, brushing snow off his jacket. “Hey, we prefer the term ‘adventurous.’”

Sloan crossed her arms. “You prefer the term ‘hospital bill.’”

Kyle laughed. Then, to her surprise, held his board out to her. “Your turn.”

She stared at it. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” he said. “You said today was about spite. This feels very on brand.”

“I am not strapping myself to a plank and throwing myself off a mountain to spite anyone.”

Francesca leaned in. “That’s the healthiest sentence anyone has said all day.”