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My cell rings. I know it’s probably Emily, so I tug it out of a pocket as we slow down, hittingAccept.
“Winter?”
“Yeah,” I say wearily. I’m not going to tell her what happened yet, but I will. “I’m fine. So are my guests.”
How did they find me?
“Oh thank god.” I listen to her breathe out grateful, relieved sighs. “Thank fuck for that. Find me soon.”
And then she’s gone.
We ski directly to the cabin. We remove our boots, using the bench under the porch before padding inside on socked feet. I strip off until I’m in my stolen thermals, standing in the hallway as Brecken comes in, then Reuben, then Luca.
Carefully they eye me, wondering how to proceed. The last words I spoke in the cabin were unkind, angry, and shocked. So I reach for the nearest—Brecken—and fold into his arms, my cheek against his heart. The study thump of it is grounding.
“I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time, though we’re probably sorry for different things. And it’s a collective apology said to Brecken but meant for them all, just as he’s the spokesman for his brothers.
Reuben is next to wrap his arms around me. He kisses the top of my head as I hold him tight, so grateful that each one of them is okay.
And then I fall into Luca’s arms, the feel of them a tight band around my back, crushing. We pull apart and he takes my hand, leading me to his bedroom. He directs me to the ensuite with a hand on my back. “I’ll find you some clothes. Get clean and….and better.”
He spins to leave but I say, “Don’t leave me.”
Somehow, I’ve regressed to a younger version of myself, inconsolable, distraught, and grieving. Still lacking a functioning compass.
Understanding, he comes to stand in front of me, lifting my thermal shirt over my head and pulling it off my arms. I skim the pants off my legs, and then my panties as he warms up the water. He guides me inside, and I watch through the open door as he shrugs off his underlayers. Under the comfort of the warm water, we hold each other.
It’s difficult to avoid the direction of my thoughts, stuck down a one-way street. The brutality of the avalanche, followed by the eerie, deafening silence as it swallowed me years ago is haunting. Today’s experience was still shocking, still hard to process, even if I survived it.
I hope those people are okay.
I lift my face, kissing a blade-sharp jaw and the short, black beard that covers it. Luca drops his mouth to take mine in a blistering kiss, but that’s where we’ll stop. There’s too much to work through, to get past, but a kiss renews our connection when words are too difficult.
His mouth drugs mine. It has my bones hot when all I’d felt was cold. It has my muscles limp for a different reason. Our tongues drive against each other, a hand sliding down my stomach. When I don’t object, I’m spun so that my back meets his chest, his searching hand still traveling south. I twist my neck and kiss him as he slides his fingers through my slit. His other arm circles my body, a hand covering a round breast, massaging it, my body yearning for his touch.
“Luca,” I whisper into his mouth.
“I’ve got you. We’re all here for you.”
Assured fingers circle my clit in a small, repeated motion. I lift on my toes, chasing more friction as my free hand wraps around his neck, our kiss deepening. It’s hard to find breath, his touch setting me ablaze, every cell I possess hungry for him to be inside. But he coaxes an orgasm from me nonetheless, my breast pushing into his hand. When my orgasm abates, I have to rip my mouth away from his to catch my breath. I lean against him, the water hot and soothing, my body relaxed.
I wash his body, envious of the way the soapy water clings to his marble-hewn build. Luxuriantly, the bubbles slide down his chest to his gently defined abdominals, and on, over his hard, long erection.
Debating it for all of a minute, I sink to my knees before sinking his stiff, swollen cock into my mouth. I suck on him like it’s my only job in the world, Luca gritting out curses a few minutes later as he comes roughly in my mouth.
With a final wash, we turn off the shower and dry off, Luca dressing me in some loose boxers, a pair of ridiculously long sweatpants, and a flannel shirt. Brecken and Roo are nowhere to be seen when I enter the kitchen, but I can hear the shower running upstairs.
I check my cell before looking for updates on the other skiers.
Relief, bright and sharp invades my chest when I read that they’re safe.
Oh, thank god.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. Together, we eat a semblance of lunch, picking at our meal. The mood is strange. We’re jubilant because we’re alive, but low in spirits because of the day’s events. For the reminders and flashbacks that attack me. But that compass needle that constantly flickers within my soul settles some.
Brecken holds me securely against him as we stretch out on the sofa. We’re watching a classic Christmas film, drinking coffee, Reuben and Luca on the opposite couch.
“I’m still coming to Aspen,” I announce quietly.
