“I got it,” I push at him as I step again and trip.
I’m about to yell at him some more when I’m suddenly weightless and in Ty’s arms. He’s carrying me up the stairs.
“Ty!” I yelp as he sets me down and helps me get my coat off.
“OK, I’m out of here. Go lie down. I’ll bring you both some water, lord knows you’ll need it later.” I lie down on my bed and sigh. My bed feels so good. And that’s the last thought that passes through my head as I fall fast asleep.
Five
Tyson
I toss and turn all night. I can’t want her. I don’t have the right to want her. I lost that right when I left her.
And then there’s the guilt. The way Jim had given me a pointed look as we brought a very drunk Harley and Brittany into the cabin. It was the worst, disappointed parental look ever. I know he probably hates me for breaking her heart. What father wouldn’t?
Oh, and I can’t forget about Cole fucking Bradford. I saw him sizing up Brit. He was a cocky high school quarterback last time I saw him. And the way he undressed Brit with his eyes last night had me wanting to pummel his ass.
After getting two hours of sleep, my alarm goes off, and I roll out of bed. It’s my turn to open the ski shop. I make myself a coffee and put it in a thermos before heading out to my car to scrape off the ice that’s formed on the windshield overnight.
The icy air wakes me up as I toss the ice scraper into the back of my car and head to the office. The sky tells me that we are going to get some fresh powder today. I love fresh powder. It means later, after work, I’m going to get some runs in before I head home.
I miss competitive skiing, but I’m thankful that my injury doesn’t prevent me from still enjoying the only sport that I have ever loved. As if on cue, my knee twinges. It happens when storms come in, a reminder of the trauma my body suffered at the hands of the sport I love.
Memories flash across my mind as I pull into the parking lot at the main lodge. Losing control on a jump, my body sailing through the air, the pop of my knee as I hit the ground, knowing I was done before the paramedics even got to me. That moment changed the course of my whole life. I couch-surfed amongst my friends for the past year, after recovering at my parents’ home. And for the past few weeks, I’ve been back here, trying to figure out what to do. After six months of therapy following my surgery, I’m able to ski well enough to give lessons to the tourists on the bunny slope. And I, of course, go out on my own, against my doctor’s wishes, but the body wants what it wants, and mine wants to sail down a mountain on skis. I have given up the moguls though, which sucks, but the one time I tried it my knee felt like it was going to give out.
I walk to the ski shop and open up; it’s a slow start, but pretty soon the rentals are picking up, and I get busy helping fit people with ski gear. Parker is giving lessons today, so once the early morning rush wears down, I’m left to my own devices.
I pull out my phone and text a number that I haven’t texted, according to my screen, for three years, eight months, and six days.
Me: How are you feeling today?
I hit send and stare at my phone like a fucking loser. How is she back for only a few days and I’m already pussy-whipped?
I shake my head at myself and go to set the phone down when it pings with an incoming message. I turn it over.
Brit: I’ve been better. Still in bed.
I look at the time and laugh. It’s almost eleven.
Me: Want to grab lunch?
Brit: The mere idea of food makes me (throwing up emoji)
Me: OK, well, let me know if you change your mind.
Brit: I will. And thanks for getting us home last night.
Me: Is Harley still there?
Brit: Remember a minute ago when I said I hadn’t gotten out of bed? So, yeah, no idea.
Me: Touché
Brit: Later, Ty
I set my phone down, a shit-eating grin spreading across my face.
“Uh, what’s so great about working the counter?” Parker asks as he walks into the shop.
“Nothing, just a slow morning. How are the slopes?”
“No powder yet, but those clouds are looking promising.”
“Sweet. I might close up early then and get a run in if it hits us.”
Parker gives me a pointed look. “Dude, just watch the knee, OK?”
I flip him off. “Parks, I’m fine. I’m not going to the Olympics, but I’m fine.”
“Hey, man, it’s your funeral, but I’m not climbing up a mountainside to pull your ass off it if you crash and bust up that knee again.”
“Noted.”
“Is Hillary coming in to help this afternoon?” Parker asks.
“Yeah, she’s working the evening shift. I get off at four.”
“Cool. I got one group class at three, and then I’m done for today. We should grab a bite to eat.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I hear Harley is still passed out at the cabin,” he adds with a laugh as he grabs a cup of coffee from the office.
“Oh?” I feign innocence.
“You didn’t check on them yet?” He pokes his head out of the office and gives me a stare that says I’m full of shit.
I shrug. “I texted Brit, but she was still in bed, so she didn’t know if Harley was still there.”
“Right.”
“I did. You want to check my phone?”
“Whatever, this isn’t a marriage. Christ, you are still fucking looney over that one, aren’t you?”
“Piss off, Parker.”
“Ding, ding, ding. I hit a nerve. You do still like her. I knew it!”
I shake my head, but I’m saved by a customer who walks in to rent a pair of skis.
Brittany
“I’m never drinking again,” I groan as I slowly get out of bed. I have to give it to Ty; he is good at babysitting drunk people. I took the painkiller he left on my bedside table and drank the glass of water. It’s about all I can stomach at the moment.
“Me either,” Harley’s voice comes from downstairs. I lean over the wall of the loft and see her sprawled out in a most un-ladylike fashion.
“Why did you let me drink so much?”
“Fuck you, you were the one saying we should have a drinking game... I think you were...” She trails off frowning as she tries to remember.
I grab a pillow and throw it at her. Niko jumps up and starts licking her face.
“Niko! Ewww!” she cries as she sits up. She promptly turns green and runs to the bathroom.
I sigh and climb down the steps. “You OK?” I yell through the door.
“Yeah, fuck, I hate getting sick from drinking,” she admits before throwing up again.
I look around and see my dad has already left for the day. I let Niko out to pee and then rummage through the fridge and find a sports drink. I set it down next to the sofa for her.
Harley comes out of the bathroom a minute later and plops down the sofa. I point to the drink.
“Thanks,” she says meekly as she takes it.
“So, what are your plans today?”
“Besides getting sick from drinking too much, oh I don’t know, maybe a little hair of the dog.”