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Chapter One
Take Life by the Balls
Try on something new.
When Milly Smartt decided to walk a mile in her sister’s shoes, she had no idea just how badly her feet would ache. She considered it a win that she’d been able to make it up the tiny slope and snap on her skis without breaking her neck. Or falling on her face. Or the other million ways a person might die when they decide to go skiing for the first time in twenty years. So she wasn’t surprised when, standing on the iced-over powder, staring down the ten-foot slope, her legs began to wobble.
To clarify, she hadn’t actually made it to one of the big-people slopes—that would require a ski lift, and the only way Milly’s feet would ever leave the ground would be for a pedicure.
No, she’d opted for the bunny slopes.
“Shins out, hands forward, shoulders in front of your hips,” the instructor, Kelly, called out.
Kelly had blue-streaked hair, enough body ink to fill a dictionary, and the patience of a kindergarten teacher on a field trip. Which was fitting since Milly was the only student over three feet tall. Yup, she was standing in the middle of a group of elementary schoolers, struggling to keep up.
Milly looked around at the snow-blanketed Sierras, the forest of deadly icicles hanging from the sequoias, and was surprised by how everyone hadn’t keeled over and died of hypothermia. The big flakes that were coming down were hindering visibility, and the winds coming off the white-capped mountains had turned her nose Rudolph-red. In fact, she would sell her soul for a hot cup of cocoa—spiked of course.
Except Milly wasn’t a quitter. Something she’d learned growing up with an independent, impulsive, don’t-take-crap-from-anyone older sister, who never walked away from an adventure and never gave up when things seemed impossible. Zoe was the outdoorsy and outspoken sister with this bold look on life, which was how she’d lived—spontaneous. On the other hand, Milly was more introverted and bookish, and god, did she love a good plan—color-coded with itemized checklists.
But today wasn’t about Milly’s lists, it was about reconnecting with her sister’s memory in the only way she was ready for. And that meant spending an afternoon in her sister’s skis. No matter how ridiculous she looked in Zoe’s Barbie-pink snowsuit and white snow cap.
She only had another couple of weeks to pack up her sister’s belongings before her parents showed up on the doorstep and insisted on helping. Sorting through her sister’s personal items was like sorting through her sister’s life—which always brought on an acute sense of loss. But it was time to stop grieving and move on with her own life. It had been nearly nine months since Milly had walked away from her dream life in New York and returned to Sierra Vista to become Zoe’s caretaker. Four months since cancer took her sister. And four months since Milly promised her sister that she’d live a full life—a life big enough for the both of them.
Then last week her dad had a heart attack and had to be airlifted to a bigger hospital in Reno. After spending three nights by his side, Milly was sent home at her parents’ insistence. Milly would have argued but she’d landed a contract job to help plan an event in town. Still, after only a few days home, she needed a distraction from the stress of everything.
“Chase happy,” Zoe had always said, and Milly was ready for some happy in her life.
“Using your poles, push yourself forward to get a little momentum going. As you pick up some speed, remember to use wedge turns for better control as you glide over the snow,” Kelly instructed.
Nerves rioting in her stomach, Milly did as instructed. She gave a little push, a snail-pace push, and slowed to a stop less than three feet from where she’d begun, while the rest of the class zigged and zagged down the hill that, from Milly’s angle, suddenly appeared to be a hundred-foot drop.
“Give it a little more elbow grease,” Kelly said. “The goal is to make it to the bottom.”
Milly glanced around and realized she was the only student still standing at the start of the run. Zoe would have laughed her ass off if she could see Milly now, scared shitless of a little adventure. Then she would’ve shoved Milly down the mountain, screaming for her to take life by the balls.
A twisting heartache knotted in her belly at the reminder of her sister. God, she missed her wit and brazen take on life. She also missed her over-the-top encouragement—which Milly could use a dose of right then.
Channeling her inner ballbuster, Milly took a deep breath, leaned her shoulders over her hips, and pushed forward with her poles. No longer at a snail’s pace—she’d managed to upgrade to sloth mode—Milly watched as three fellow classmates passed her while taking their second run down the mountain.
“Remember to make a triangle with your feet, turning your toes in. The wider your stance, the slower you’ll go,” Kelly instructed from beside her.
Milly made a tight triangle—Pythagorean theorem tight—then dug her poles twelve inches into the powder, scooching herself forward ten feet and stopping with the front of her skis sticking out over the ledge of the hill.
She closed her eyes and blew out a nervous breath. “Baby steps,” she whispered.
“Baby steps are for babies,” the little girl next to her sang as she walked back up the hill. She was barely taller than Milly’s ski poles but had the ’tude of a teenager.
“I am not a baby but a beginner, like you,” Milly said primly.
“Then how come you haven’t moved?”
“I’ve moved.” Nowhere near as much at the others, but she’d moved just enough to remain upright.
“Not enough to zig or zag like Miss Kelly told us to,” her powderpuff of a bully said.
Milly gave a little hop and landed with her skis slightly to the right. “Zig.” She hopped angling them to the left. “Zag. Happy?”
Powderpuff rolled her eyes and said, “Baby,” then took off down the slope, zigging and zagging like she was an Olympian.
