Shattered: An Extreme Risk Novel (14 page)

Since this is my show, I take charge of getting everyone checked in, and then I take the elevator up to the suite Z insisted on for Timmy and his parents. He’d wanted them to have room to spread out, and now, as I watch Timmy’s parents unpacking his medication and getting settled, I can’t help agreeing with his decision. I have no idea how the bad boy of snowboarding got to be so sensitive, but I’m glad that he did.

Even if it means subjecting myself to eight days with Ash, it’s worth it just to see the way Timmy—sleepy, worn out and obviously in pain—is still beaming from the fact that he’s here. With Ash Lewis, Z Michaels, Luc Jennings and Cam Bradley. His mind is pretty much boggled and I don’t blame him. God knows, mine isn’t in much better of a state.

“When do we get to hit the slopes, Tansy?” he asks, his face eager as he pulls me down onto the sofa next to him.

I think longingly of my bed, but it wasn’t so long ago that I was eager for someone to talk to me, really talk
to
me, not about me or over me or around me. With that thought in mind, I shove the exhaustion down deep and smile at him. “After we all get about twenty hours of
sleep,” I tell him, ruffling his hair.

He rolls his eyes at me. “I don’t want to waste time sleeping. Not when there’s so much to see.”

Again, I get it. Timmy doesn’t have much longer, we all know that, and though he’s exhausted from the trip, I can imagine just how impatient he must be to just do something. To do everything. I remember those days, too. Remember lying in the stupid hospital bed while my parents hovered around me and all I wanted—all I wanted—was to be free. To run down the halls. To dance in the parking lot. To just
be
without someone poking me or asking me if I was okay or looking at me like they expected me to keel over at any second.

But just because I empathize doesn’t mean I don’t know that he needs to rest. He’s pale, his face drawn, and he looks like the softest touch would send him toppling over. Not that I intend to say that to him, especially when his mom just got through saying something very similar.

“Personally, I agree with you,” I tell him with a grin. “But Ash is a total wimp. He needs to get his beauty sleep or he’ll be useless out on that mountain.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s totally true. Did you not hear him whining to his brother? He wanted to hitch a ride up to his hotel room on Logan’s wheelchair.”

Timmy laughs at the image, exactly as I intend him to. “Fine,” he tells me after a minute. “I’ll sleep. But tomorrow I want to get out there!”

“Me, too. It’s going to be so much fun.”

“It’s going to be huge.”

“Bigger than huge.”

“You’re right. Epic.”

I shake my head. “Bigger than epic.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “There’s nothing bigger than epic.”

“Sure there is.”

“Oh, yeah? What?”

Oh, shit. Ummm … “Infinite. It’s going to be infinite.”

“Infinite?” Timmy repeats the word, and the way he says it—all soft corners and long drawn out syllables—makes me feel like he’s savoring it. “I like that. Infinite.”

He sighs, snuggles back into the sofa. “I used to want to be infinite.”

Unexpected tears burn the back of my throat. Before I know I’m going to do it, I reach a hand out and stroke it through his crazy blond ringlets. “You are infinite, Timmy.”

“No.” Though he’s tired, his gaze is steady on mine. “But I’m going to be. Soon, I think.”

“Timmy—”

“It’s okay, Tansy. I’m okay.” He leans over, rests his head on my shoulder. I put my hand on his knee, patting softly until his eyes drift closed and his breathing evens out.

It’s not much, but it’s all I can do right now. All anyone can do.

I’m on my way back to my room ten minutes later to get some sleep—blessed sleep—when I get a text from Luc.

Hey. Come have a drink with us
.

No way. Us certainly includes Ash and I feel like I’ve already been there and done that today.

Thanks, but I’m beat. Going to sleep
.

I don’t even make it to the elevator before my phone buzzes again.

Come on. Just 1 drink. It’ll b fun. We r in the main outside bar, with the fire pits
.

I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I have to admit, all the attention Luc is paying me is a little flattering. Especially after the way Ash was so obviously repulsed by me at his house.

Refusing to let myself think better of it, I push the down elevator button instead of the up one and before I know it, I’m standing at the door to the back patio, trying to decide if I’m really going to do this.

It’s just turned dark, so the bar isn’t very busy—I guess people are still making their way back from the runs or going to dinner or whatever—and I spot them easily. Z, Ophelia, Luc, Cam and Ash, bundled up and sitting next to one of the big fire pits, laughing and drinking and having what looks to be a really great time.

I shouldn’t go over there. I shouldn’t. I mean, the last thing I want is for Ash to think I’m chasing him. But they’re having so much fun and I want to be over there with them. Want to be sitting with them, talking and laughing and telling outrageous stories. I’ve never gotten to do that before. Never gotten to hang out in a bar—or anywhere else for that matter—and crack jokes with my friends. Not a lot of time, or strength, for that when you’re battling one of the most aggressive forms of cancer there is.

But I’m not cancer girl anymore and there’s no time like the present to change things up. It’s the rule I’ve been living by from the minute the doctor told me I was in remission. That I was going to live.

I’m still debating what I want to do when Ash glances my way. He does a double take, his eyes locking with mine. There’s an entire room between us and yet, somehow, I feel the weight of his gaze like he’s right next to me. Like he’s touching me.

Heat pools in my belly at the thought. It doesn’t slam through me, doesn’t tear along my nerve endings like it did that first day in the storage room. No, this time it takes its time, spreading slowly through me like sweet, thick syrup. Somehow, that’s even worse because I have time to think about it, time to wonder what the hell is happening to me, even as I start to catch fire.

A flurry of wind sweeps through the door but I barely feel the cold. I’m too caught up in the look in Ash’s eyes and the warmth moving through me.

He raises a hand in a gesture that’s half wave and half a request for me to come closer. My feet move of their own accord, like I’d been waiting for the acknowledgment all along without knowing it, and I’m walking toward him. Walking toward
them
, I remind myself viciously. Luc is the one who invited me to join them. Z is the one who made the trip possible. Ash … Ash is just the talent. Just along for the ride.

I’m halfway to the table when Luc spots me. He jumps up, rushes over and pulls me into the shelter of his embrace—like it’s been days instead of minutes since he last saw me. Like we didn’t just meet today. Still, his response makes me feel so much better, so much less alone.

I cuddle closer to him in relief, burrowing under his arm and absorbing his warm, spicy smell and the comfort of his presence. There’s no heat, no zing, nothing like what I’ve felt the few times Ash has touched me, but I’m okay with that. More than okay. As long as my brain is fully engaged, I won’t be making a fool of myself in front of anyone else.

“Hey, everyone good?” he asks as he pulls me over to the fire pit the others have claimed as their own.

“Yeah, great. Timmy’s wiped and so are his parents, I think.”

“Logan, too,” Luc tells me. “Ash wanted to stay with him but he shoved him out of the room, told him he couldn’t think with him hovering over him.”

“Yeah,” I say without thinking. “No matter how much your family loves you, sometimes it just feels stifling and you need a few minutes to breathe.”

“You saying I’m stifling my brother?” Ash sounds really confrontational, surprisingly confrontational considering the fact that the air around us is rife with the smell of weed.

“I’m saying you’re a little high-strung,” I tell him, plucking the joint out of his hand since he’s not doing anything with it and taking a long drag myself. The smoke burning through my lungs is a familiar feeling, a relaxing one, and every muscle I have turns to butter as it works its way through my system. I take another drag before passing it on to Luc, who’s grinning at me like I’ve just done something totally surprising.

Little do they know that I’ve probably smoked more weed than all of them put together. The fact that mine came with a doctor’s note, to battle the effects of chemotherapy and help me keep food—any food—down, is completely irrelevant.

I sink down onto the bench next to Luc, and try not to freak out at the way Ash is staring at me. Like he doesn’t know who I am or what I’m doing here. I concentrate on Luc instead, on the false sense of security the weed has given me.

Luc holds the joint up to me and I know I should pass—two hits is enough for now—but Ash is too close and I still feel too much. I take the cigarette, take one more hit before passing it to Ophelia, who’s sitting on my other side, curled into Z’s lap.

She takes it, holds it up to his lips, but he shakes his head and buries his face in her wild curls. She grins a little as she passes the joint on to Cam.

“I love boarding Arpa,” Luc tells me. He tugs at me a little, until my knees are curled up to my chest and my back rests against his side. “Good call, Tansy.”

“It was all Z. I was pretty much along for the ride on this one. He had it all planned out.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Ash mutters, and he sounds more than a little bitter. Not that I really blame him. We did all but bully him into this trip.

“Get over it already, man.” Cam shoves at his shoulder. “There are way worse things to be doing right now than hanging in the Andes, getting ready to board some of the sickest mountains in existence.”

“I’m over it,” he answers, but even all the way over here, across the fire pit from him, I can see the way his jaw clenches. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Before anyone can answer, the waitress comes with a second round of drinks. “I ordered you a glass of wine,” Luc tells me. “But if you want something else—”

“No, this is great.” I reach for the pink wine gratefully. I’ve never ordered a drink anywhere before and this gives me a little bit of a breather. A chance to figure things out without making an even bigger ass of myself.

I take a sip, and am pleasantly surprised at how sweet and smooth it is. My parents are dry red wine drinkers and it always burns the back of my throat when I have a glass of it at home. This is so much better.

“So, where are we starting tomorrow?” Cam asks after the waitress leaves. “I want to do a couple runs before hitting the half-pipe—”

“No half-pipe,” Z tells her, his hand absently stroking Ophelia’s inner thigh. For the first time, I notice the way Cam is watching them, the little twist of her lips as Z gently rubs his thumb back and forth.

What is it with these guys, I can’t help wondering. It’s taking every ounce of self-control I have to keep my eyes off Ash and Cam seems to be having the same problem with Z—even though he’s obviously completely gone over Ophelia. Of course, the second Cam catches me looking, she jerks her eyes away, takes a long swig of her beer straight from the bottle.

Behind me, I feel Luc tense a little, his arm tightening around my shoulders. But when I
glance up at him, he looks totally chill. Totally cool, despite the fact that his body is like a rock against mine.

God, the group dynamics here are more than a little messed up. I mean, I’ve only been around them a day or so and even I can tell they’d take a bullet for each other. Their friendship and loyalty is obvious in the easy camaraderie, in the way they can communicate with each other without saying a word. In the way they’ve all rallied around Ash and Logan like there’s nowhere else they’d rather be than right here, with them.

But there’s more here. A weird tension that snakes through it all, so subtle that I’m not even sure they’re aware of it. But I’m on the outside looking in and I can’t help but see it. Especially since I’ve spent so much of my life sitting in a hospital bed or on a park bench or at a table in the mall, just watching people. Just watching as the world passed me by.

“It’s been almost two years since we boarded the Andes,” Z continues. “The cornices here are fucking amazing. I want to lay down some sick lines tomorrow on Tarapaca and Concho y Toro—”

“Fuck, yeah,” Luc says before taking a sip of his beer. “I’m all about Saracorchos. That fucking avalanche run is sick. I talked to the guide a little while ago—he says conditions are going off.”

“Avalanche?” My stomach turns at the thought. “They have a run that causes avalanches?”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Luc says with a laugh, pulling me closer. His fingers are rubbing gently against my shoulder and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I mean, I’m not uncomfortable, but it’s nothing special. Luc could be my brother for all the heat I’m feeling.

At least until Ash looks at me, with heavy-lidded eyes and a frown on his face. Then I nearly burn up as electricity rips along every nerve ending I’ve got.