Page 80 of Head Over Skis

I hear my name called but it’s muffled through the ringing in my ears. This is what I get for putting myself out there for once. For doing something out of my comfort zone, because I believed him when he said he cared for me. I was about to turn my whole life upside down. God, how could I be so stupid?

‘Lottie! Slow down!’

The sound is nearer now, but I don’t stop. I’m not sure where I’m going, only that I want to be alone. I run past the girls and Stephen, who are already waiting for class, run on through the trees that separate the ski resort from the wild slopes beyond. I’m thinking with my feet, one of which is throbbing from the exertion when it’s still not fully better. I’m following a direction only they know until I stumble upon a familiar hut. Only now, there isn’t a table laden with breakfast food, nor a picnic blanket laid out on the snow. I stand there, taking in the open space, not knowing how I remembered how to get here, only that for some reason this is where my body led me.

Maybe to torture me with the happy memories I have here. Make this day go from bad to worse. I realise that I’ve dropped my painting, but I don’t care. I should’ve let David have it. I turn to leave, the painting discarded on the snowy ground, and hope I’ll be able to find my way back to the slope and my friends who will take me home.

But when I turn, he’s there. His body emerges through the trees as he pushes their heavy branches aside like they’re made of nothing but air.

‘Lottie, let me explain.’

He’s blocking the way out, but I don’t let that stop me from rushing forwards as if I’ll be able to push past him. I should know better, so it’s hardly surprising when I shove my shoulder into his chest and he doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he gently takes hold of my shoulders to keep me in place. ‘Lottie, will you give me a second to talk to you, please?’

I laugh, tears that I’ve held back threatening to spill down my cheeks as I look up at him. ‘You know it’s a little ironic that you were so pissed off when you saw me leaving class with Adam yesterday when you ran back to your ex the next morning.’

He frowns, not looking pleased at my mention of Adam, and I don’t tell him that there’s nothing going on there. I don’t want to admit that while I was ending things with him for good, Rory was planning a late-night reunion with his own ex. He releases me and takes a step back, his biceps flexing as he crosses his arms over his chest. ‘You wouldn’t be thinking that if you’d stayed around for one more second and let me explain that nothing was happening.’

I mirror his position, but I’m crossing my arms in an attempt to hold myself together more than anything else. ‘Oh yeah, so why did she look all happy and giggly when you stepped out of the lift together? And why were you holding her hand like you were about to kiss it?’

I wait for him to finally admit it then, a man caught out in the act, but instead he looks at me with confusion. ‘Holding her hand? I wasn’t—’ He pauses, a realisation hitting him. ‘You mean when I was looking at her ring after she told me she’d gotten engaged to her boyfriend?’

I try not to let the surprise show on my face. I don’t want to believe it, but then I think back to that manicured hand of hers and I remember a sparkling ring on her finger that I overlooked in the moment. I realise he’s telling the truth about that part at least, but that doesn’t explain why she was there in the first place. ‘But why was she in your apartment?’

‘Because she hadn’t realised her dog had been playing with her ski gloves and left them outside in the snow all night. She couldn’t find any spares in the hut, so I brought her up to borrow a pair of mine. I’ve always kept spare kit up there, and I thought one of my older pairs might fit her. That’s all it was.’

I stare down at my boots, feeling even more stupid at how wrong my assumptions were. I’d been so mad at him for the assumption he’d made yesterday about me and Adam, and here I was doing the exact same thing. And besides, who am I to judge what he might’ve been getting up to anyway after the way I left yesterday?

‘What’s that?’

I follow where he’s pointing, and that’s when I remember the painting that I left on the ground behind me. Rory’s eyes are on it as he starts to move closer, but I leap quickly to get there before him. I pick it up and clutch it close to my chest. Now that I know nothing happened with his ex, I start to pluck up the courage to do what I planned since getting back from the hospital last night.

‘Before I show you, can I ask you something?’

He looks from the painting up to my face, regarding me cautiously before nodding.

‘Did you mean what you said yesterday? When you said you cared about me?’

His face pinches, and the world around me slows as I wait for his answer. The branches that blow in the light wind barely moving. The snowflakes nearly ceasing to fall.

Something in Rory deflates, and his arms fall down to his sides, his palms turned towards me as he shrugs. ‘Of course I care about you.’

I wonder if that’s all he’ll say. That admission alone has my chest breaking open with relief, wanting to tell him that I care for him too. To say the words I should’ve said yesterday but was too scared to vocalise. But before I have the chance to tell him my own feelings, he continues sharing his.

‘I barely slept last night, because lying in that room alone was torture after learning what it was like to wake up beside you. I know you don’t feel the same way, and maybe I shouldn’t admit quite how much I’m falling for you in the short time we’ve spent together, but I am. I’m falling harder for you than how you fell on your way to that first ski class.’

I laugh, although it comes out more like a croak as tears start to well up and flow down my cheeks, his words opening the floodgates as his admission echoes everything I planned to say. I remember that first day. How Kevin helped me to my feet, the old me who didn’t know who was waiting only a few metres away.

‘I saw you fall and I recognised you straight away. You’d never mentioned where you were going on your ski holiday, and I’d entertained the thought that you’d show up here. Only I never thought you actually would, and when I saw you there, I thought it might be my mind playing tricks on me. It wasn’t until you came over and I saw your name on the register that I realised it was real. I know you don’t feel the same, and things yesterday didn’t end the way I would’ve liked. But I want you to know I’m glad you showed up that day. I’m glad for even the short time I got to know you.’

I swallow back the lump that’s formed in my throat, needing to clear it so I can tell him the words I hope aren’t too late for him to hear. I planned out exactly what I wanted to say, but relief, hope, fear and excitement for what this all means battle in my stomach and jumble my prepared speech. In lieu of the right words, I begin to unravel the wrappings around my painting.

Rory’s eyes are fixated on my hands as they unfold the sheet I used to form a makeshift casing, then the clingfilm I loosely wrapped over the painting itself once it had dried. Once it’s free, I wait a minute before turning it around to face him.

‘I made this last night.’ My hands shake where they grip the edges of the canvas. ‘Someone very wise told me that the best way to fix something you’ve broken is with a grand gesture, and people say a picture is worth a thousand words. I’m not great with words, but I’m not bad with a brush, so I hope this sums up everything I want to say.’

I take a breath, knowing once I turn this around, I’m taking a step I won’t be able to take back. I count to three and slowly reveal the painting to him.

For a while, he just stares. His eyes roam over every inch of the canvas, and I feel more vulnerable than I ever have before. He takes a step closer, then another, until his hands are close enough to touch the surface of the painting. ‘May I?’