Shattered: An Extreme Risk Novel (15 page)

“Yeah,” Cam tells me. “We boarded it a dozen or so times the last time we were here and it was front.”

Ophelia’s looking at Z, though, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “Seriously? There aren’t enough other runs out there? You need to take an avalanche trail? That’s crazy! That’s—”

He pulls her face to his and kisses her quiet. Luc laughs and Ash just shakes his head, obviously amused. Cam, however, looks like she’s been run over by a semi. For just a second anyway, before her face and eyes go completely blank.

Yeah, there’s definitely something there.

The waitress stops by to take another order and I realize, a little surprised, that my glass is empty. I ask for another one and Luc looks pleased. “I’m glad you liked the wine,” he whispers in my ear, while the others give their orders. “I debated what to get you.”

“It was perfect,” I whisper back.

“Good.”

His mouth is only inches from mine now and I know he’s thinking about kissing me. Hell, I’m thinking about letting him. He’s a nice guy, not to mention smart, talented, and totally hot. Why shouldn’t I let him kiss me? I mean, he doesn’t affect me the way Ash does, but that’s probably a good thing. Less chance of me making a fool of myself.

And yet, I can’t quite bring myself to press my lips against Luc’s. I know he’s waiting for me to make the move—which I appreciate—but I just can’t do it. Not when my whole body is attuned to Ash, my nipples tight and skin hot just because I can feel him looking at me.

I kiss Luc’s cheek instead, a quick brush of my lips against the stubble lining his jaw. His arm squeezes tight around me for a second, then relaxes.

The conversation continues on around me. Talk of cornices and pistes and chutes and any number of other things I’m only a little familiar with. I’ve spent much of the last few days online trying to familiarize myself with snowboarding terms and while I thought I had an okay handle on them, listening to everyone talk makes me realize I really don’t have a clue.

I mean, I know what a cornice is, but I don’t get why the ones here are such a big deal. And I sure as hell don’t get why boarding a trail that warns of imminent avalanches is a good thing. Sure, I understand better than most the adrenaline that comes with cheating death. I’ve done it enough times myself. But still, I don’t understand why anyone would want to deliberately court it. Maybe because, for so long, it’s taken everything I have to fight it …

By the third round of drinks, I really have to pee. After a quick trip to the restroom I glance at the mirror above the sinks, then really wish I hadn’t. I’m a mess. My hair is standing on end, my mascara has pooled under my eyes and I look paler than I have in a long time.

Terrific. I’ve been sitting there the whole time thinking that Ash is watching me and he’s probably just been staring at me in horror. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I do a quick cleanup—a very quick cleanup as there isn’t much I can do with a little water and a paper towel, then head back to the table. I figure I’ll finish my wine and then make excuses to duck out of the dinner plans Z just suggested. I know Ash is going up to get Logan and I’d like to see him, but at the same time, I think it might be time for me to head back to my own room. I’m only about six weeks into remission and my stamina isn’t what it should be. I’m working on building it up, but it’s obviously not there yet. If it was, I wouldn’t currently look like a creature from
The Walking Dead
.

But when I step out of the bathroom, Ash is there, hands in pockets, shoulders slouched forward as he leans against the wall.

Startled, I give him a quick smile and then start to move past him, but he reaches out and grabs my arm in a gentle hold.

Now the electricity is back, sparks shooting along every nerve ending I have just because
of that simple touch. It makes me feel pathetic even as it turns me on.

“What’s up?” I ask, doing everything I can to keep my voice level. Normal.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He steps forward until he’s only a few inches away from me. I try to pretend like he doesn’t affect me, like I don’t feel the heat radiating off his long, lean body and ache to touch him. It’s hard, though, especially when he tilts his head down and those blue eyes of his seem to stare straight through me.

It’s not fair. After three glasses of wine and a few hits of weed, I’m a little tipsy, a little high. My defenses are down, my knees weak and it puts me at a severe disadvantage, especially considering that Ash is stone-cold sober, having spent the evening drinking nothing stronger than club soda.

He leans even closer, his head lowering until his mouth is only an inch or so from my jaw. I tell myself it’s no big deal, but I can feel his warm breath against my ear and I can’t help but shiver. I sat pressed against Luc and felt nothing, but just a breath from Ash and I’m all but a puddle of goo on the floor. It’s wrong. So wrong.

And still I lean toward him, still I press a hand to his chest—more for balance than because I want to feel the way his heart beats beneath my palm, I assure myself. I don’t believe it, though. How can I when there’s a part of me that wants nothing more than to stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his?

At least until he opens his mouth and whispers, “Luc’s in love with Cam, you know.”

Those are pretty much the last seven words I expect to hear in this situation, and it takes me a few seconds to process them. When they finally click in my brain, I drop my hand from his chest. Step back. “Okay. But why are you telling me this?”

“Seriously?” He arches a brow at me. “I saw the way you two were glued together out there and I wanted to make sure you didn’t misunderstand. He’s just using you to make Cam jealous.”

Anger whips through me. I’m not an idiot, after all. I did pick up on the undercurrents that were floating around out there. And what the hell? Does he really think I’m so desperate that I’d confuse flirting with genuine interest? I may be inexperienced, but I’m not totally stupid. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t seem to be working too well. Besides, what do you care if I misunderstand?”

He looks at me like I’m crazy. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Again. He doesn’t say it, but the word hangs there between us. He doesn’t want to see me get hurt
again
after I obviously made a total and complete fool of myself in his kitchen. The bastard. I mean, maybe I should feel grateful that he’s looking out for me, but all I really feel is
humiliated. Especially with the way my body responds to him every time I’m close to him.

A hot blush creeps up my cheeks, but I will it back. Force it down. No way am I going to give Ash the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’s embarrassing me. Just how much he affects me. Not now when he’s pretty much laying out just how unattractive he finds me. Luc couldn’t possibly be interested in kissing me, sleeping with me. No, he’s just using me to make Cam jealous. Even if that’s true, even if he is totally in love with her—which I completely buy after seeing the way he responds to her—is it so hard to imagine that he’d actually find me attractive?

Obviously, for Ash it is, and that just makes me angrier. He’s the most attractive guy I’ve ever met, the most attractive guy on the planet to me, probably, and he thinks I’m pathetic, unattractive. Not sexy at all.

The knowledge makes my blood boil, but I force myself to smile at him. To thank him for the warning. I even manage to keep my tone chill and my eyes steady as I do it.

I step around him, then head back out to the patio with every intention of excusing myself to go back up to my room. But with every step I take, I feel Ash right behind me, breathing down my neck. My anger multiplies until I’m fuming, so heated up that I’m sure I’d melt even the coldest snow around here if I came in contact with it. Which is why, when Luc smiles at me and holds a hand out to me, I don’t do what I planned.

I don’t make excuses.

I don’t head up to my room.

I don’t even grab my wine and drain it like I’ve been fantasizing about ever since Ash asked to talk to me.

No, I don’t do any of those things.

Instead, I walk straight up to Luc and take his hand. He tugs a little and I let him pull me down onto his lap. His arms go around me and I nuzzle my face into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. His hands clench a little where they’re holding me, and I glance up at him, see a cautious look in his eyes as he watches me. I smile at him, wink, and then slowly—slowly—press my lips against his jaw.

Behind me, I hear the sound of a glass hitting the stones of the fire pit and shattering. I don’t bother to turn and see who dropped the glass—Ash or Cam, it doesn’t really matter. Instead, I grin into Luc’s shoulder before pressing more kisses along his neck.

His arms tighten around me and when I look up and into his eyes, I see a wickedness there that appeals to me. Along with a whole lot of laughter as his eyes dart between me and Ash. Oh, yeah, Luc knows exactly what’s up. And as his hand comes to rest on my ass, it’s fairly obvious that he has no trouble playing along.

Which is exactly what I hoped for. After all, no better way than to convince Ash I’m not
interested in him than to hang all over one of his friends. Right?

“I want to go.”

Fuck. I stand up from shoving my gear into my bag to face Logan, who is sitting in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and face set in a mutinous expression.

“We went over this last night, man. It’s been two years since I’ve been up there. Let me go today, scout things out and then we’ll bring you and Timmy up in the snowcat tomorrow. I just need a little time to figure out—”

“I’m not dying.”

My throat clenches up at just the mention of the word, and I have to clear it a couple times before I can speak. “Of course you’re not. Why are you even saying that?”

“Because I want to make sure you get it. Timmy’s dying. He’s the one you have to be careful of. I’m fine. I’m in this wheelchair, but I’m fine.”

I turn back to my gear so he can’t see my face—and the guilt that I know is written all over it. He isn’t fine. He’s alive. He’s healthy. But he’ll never be fine again and that’s my fault. Just like my parents’ deaths are my fault. Just like this whole clusterfuck is my fault.

I still can’t believe I’m here, can’t believe I’m about to go boarding for the first time in over six months. And maybe it’s selfish of me, maybe I’m an even bigger prick than I think I am, because I don’t want Logan to watch these first couple of runs. Don’t want anyone to watch them.

I don’t even know how I feel about getting back on the powder again. Just the thought has me freaking out deep inside, even though I won’t admit it to anyone. The idea of boarding again in front of Logan—who once loved snowboarding as much as I did, who once had his sights set on the 2018 Olympics as surely as mine had been set on Sochi—makes me more than a little ill. It makes me crazy.

“I just need to do this alone, dude,” I say after a minute of staring at my gear and doing absolutely nothing with it.

“Yeah,” he says a little bitterly. “These days you want to do everything alone.”

“Seriously?” I demand. “That’s where you want to go with this?”

“Where am I supposed to go, Ash? You—” He breaks off, looks away.

“I what?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, turns his chair away from me. “It doesn’t matter, right? It’s not like you’re going to change your mind.”

“Come on, Logan. You want to talk, let’s talk.”

“Why should I? It never changes. Nothing ever changes.”

And here I thought everything had changed. I can’t say that to him, though, can’t say so much of what I’m thinking to him because I don’t want him to take it the wrong way. The last thing I want to do is to hurt him, ever again. He’s already been hurt more than enough because of me.

Still, something’s eating at him. I start to push a little more, but before I can get out anything more than his name, there’s a knock on the door.

“Come on, you guys! Let’s go!” Z’s voice—loud and happy and boisterous—drifts through the door. “Conditions are going off!”

Logan throws the door open. “Yeah, Ash,” he says with a smirk in my direction. “Hurry up so
we
can get going.”

Z’s dressed in his snowboarding clothes, a backpack slung over one shoulder and his board under his other arm. Ophelia’s next to him, also dressed for the weather, which is pretty surprising considering how much Z’s girl hates the cold.

“You’re coming, too?” I ask, as my plans for a quiet day on the slopes disintegrate right in front of me.

“Fuck, yeah, she is. We all are. Dude, it’s been seven months since we got to really board with you.” He clasps my shoulder with his free hand, squeezes in a way I know he means to be supportive but that kind of just makes me queasy.

I love my friends, I really do. Can’t imagine how the fuck I would have gotten through most of my life—let alone the last six months—without them. But shit. It’d be nice if they’d be less supportive sometimes. Not a lot, just a little. Just enough so that I could breathe without them documenting it.

Across the hall, another door closes and then Luc is stepping past Z and Ophelia and into the room. “Hey, little man!” he says, holding his hand out to Logan for the complicated shake/fist bump combo the two of them have been doing for years. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Because Ash says I can’t go.”

I freeze as the three of them look at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind. And while I might be able to hold out against Logan’s pleas, I can’t fight them all. Especially not when Cam eases into the room and starts packing Logan’s backpack with extra gloves, water and some high energy snacks. Looks like I’m totally outvoted.

“I’ve already got a snowcat reserved for us,” Z tells me as Ophelia helps Logan into his
jacket. “It seats twelve, so it’ll be a tight squeeze with everyone plus our gear, but it’ll work.”

“Everyone? Tansy and Timmy are going, too?”

Cam gives me a knowing look, then puts a soft hand on my shoulder. “That’s what we’re here for, right?”

“Yeah. Right.” Except I’m not ready for it. Not ready for any of it. I need more time to think, to get my head on straight. I need time to get ready to board, without worrying about Tansy and the way she looks at me. Or the way she cuddled up to Luc last night and how at home she seemed on his lap. I need—