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Addisyn reeled.No.Never had she thought about the possibility of Brian and Darius finding out about each other. What in the world had happened? “How did you—”
“Never mind how I found out.” Darius’s eyes were like stone. “Interestingly, I learned that you two are a serious item—and have been for years. Even live together, as I understand.”
Like a raw cowhide whip, his words sliced into Addisyn’s soul. She felt as if she might crash onto the cement floor. Now the tears sprang to the surface.
Of all the things she’d ever done, giving in to Brian was her worst regret, her most egregious mistake. Looking back, she couldn’t imagine why she’d ever done it. Now, to hear the dirty details spilling from the mouth of the man she truly loved was too much.
Suddenly all she wanted was to get out of this conversation. Get out and leave, crawl away like a wounded animal hiding from daylight. If only she could run out the door of the climbing center and keep on running until she ceased to exist.
There was no point in staying there. No wonder Darius was so furious. No wonder he wouldn’t listen to her. What could she say? Certainly Brian had probably talked their relationship up to heaven without once mentioning that she had broken up with him. The filthy creep.
But she had to try, had to say something to fill the void. “Darius, I am not that person any—”
“Oh, so you’ve changed?” Darius widened his stance. “Then why is your boyfriend here in town? Cause he’s ready to sweep you away to Chicago so all your dreams can come true.” His tone dripped with sarcasm. “Yeah, I heard all about it. He gave me all the details. Guess he was jealous of me or something.” He gave that sharp bark of a laugh again. “Imagine that.”
“Please, Darius, just talk to me!” Addisyn took a step toward him, but he turned and shook his head.
“Like I said, there’s nothing to say.” He took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face. When he met her eyes again, his own were wet. “Look, Addisyn. When I met Brian, I was pretty mad.” He sucked in a breath. “But—you don’t owe me any explanations. I thought—I thought we had something, maybe, but—” His voice broke off. “I’m glad you’re going to the Olympics.” He had put up his armor. She could tell, could almost hear the gates of his soul thudding closed. His tone was as flat and expressionless as if he’d been talking to a stranger. “Go to Chicago with Brian and skate your heart out. You deserve somebody better than me anyway.”
“Darius, please listen to me!” Addisyn was sobbing now, the pain too brutal to withstand. She reached out to Darius, willing him to listen. To just listen. “Yes, I have made some bad mistakes.” She tried to get control of her voice and failed. “But Brian is no longer my boyfriend and I am not who—”
Darius turned away, cutting off her words. He grabbed another box off the floor and heaved it onto a high shelf effortlessly. Clearly the conversation was over. “Not who I thought you were? Clearly.” He reached for another box. “You’re a fake. And you had me fooled, Addisyn Miles. Big time.”
Addisyn went numb all over. His words reverberated in her mind.
There was nothing else to say. Nothing to do. Because he was right. She turned as if on autopilot and stumbled out of the center. Made her way automatically to the bus stop. Boarded the first bus that came.
She felt as if her soul had been gouged out of her and left bleeding for all the world to see. She spent much of the bus ride with her head lowered, her mind whirling around the horrible thing that was true. The reason she could never face Avery—and now Darius.
She was a fake.
It wasn’t until they’d gone fifteen minutes down the road that her mind started working again, enough to realize that she’d boarded the bus going out of town by mistake. She got off at the next station and caught the one heading toward the Whistler Village. It was twelve forty-five. She needed to be back to the hotel in time to see Brian.
Because she was going with him. What else could a fake do?
ADDISYN CRANED HERneck to see out of the small porthole in the side of the plane. There it was—Whistler, spread out below her like a beautiful painting framed on a wall.
It felt weird, seeing it from this high up. The peaks that had seemed so insulating when she first arrived looked like molehills now. And in the end, they hadn’t been able to protect her anyway.
Well, that was it. Her last glimpse of Whistler. She resolutely dragged her eyes from the window and stared straight ahead.
Her heart felt as leaden and unresponsive as a chunk of stone. As if everything in her had been frozen. She couldn’t feel, couldn’t think, couldn’t even be afraid. She was far too numb for any emotion.
That was the only reason she’d been able to come with Brian at all. If she hadn’t been shell-shocked, she would have told him to get on the next plane to NYC—alone.
After she’d gotten off the bus, she’d gone quietly and determinedly back to her hotel room and met Brian at the appointed hour. She’d told him calmly and briefly that she would go with him. He’d been unsurprised, she could tell, from his smirks and lifted eyebrows. He’d been expecting her submission. At any other time, that alone would have been enough to get her fighting spirit up.
But now she felt only a wearied frustration that was beyond any resistance. She couldn’t find an ounce of fight left in her. Really, what was the use?
She’d already failed Avery, Darius, God, and herself. Who was left?
“Ahh, thank you.” Reclining next to her, Brian regally accepted a tray from the flight attendant. On it were two glasses of red wine. He smiled winningly at her. “Care for a drink?”
She took the wine glass, held it daintily by the stem the way Brian had taught her to. “To your new life.” He smiled and clinked his glass to hers. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Addisyn mumbled. The word was bitterly ironic. She took a tiny sip of the wine, her mouth crinkling from the spicy-fruity taste. She swallowed quickly and tried to keep a straight face. She’d forgotten how weird wine tasted when you weren’t used to it.
Brian, in contrast, was sipping his drink calmly. He swirled the liquid with the air of aristocracy and peered into the bowl. “I don’t like that wood-smoke flavor.” He frowned. “I’ve noticed it comes when they use hickory for the barrels. Then, during the maturation process, the wine—”
