Page 69 of Twins For My Bestie's Brother

I don’t say anything, squinting up at the ceiling, willing the chandelier to stop moving. Carina’s face pops over me, concern evident on her made-up face. However, her forehead doesn’t move even a bit. When do people start getting Botox these days? “Poor thing. Let me get you some champagne.”

“No alcohol,” Jackson says. “Water.”

“Champagne is water,” Carina says flippantly before walking off.

Jackson sighs. He and Danforth exchange a few soft words I decide to ignore. This is so fucking embarrassing. I’m dressed stem to stern in ski clothes, laid out like a fucking invalid in the lounge because I can’t manage to stop this dizziness. It started on the plane and petered out partway through our first day here. The past two days I’ve been able to ski with no problem. But today, I got to the top of the mountain and felt like my legs were about to give out. I would have caused a disaster.

I’m starting to get worried.

I rub my forehead and let out a sigh of frustration as tears prick at my eyes.

Jackson sits at the edge of the chaise beside me. His ski goggles are propped up on his forehead and his face is still red, pricked with cold. “Baby . . . ”

“This is so embarrassing,” I mutter. Crying will only make it worse. I’m already cringing over how many people saw me in this state. From the ski lift to the hill to the walk of shame through the lobby and now the lounge. I don’t need to make anything worse with my emotions.

He unzips the front of my jacket. I didn’t realize how hot I was. “Let’s get this off.”

I sit up as best I can, wincing at the pressure in my head. Thankfully, Jackson is quick to free me from my tomb of heat. “I’m sorry,” I say as I collapse again.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I ruined the day. I—my stupid head.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he says, and I can tell he means it. And yet my silly little brain won’t believe it, even when he gives me the sweetest smile.

My lip wobbles, and a tear escapes. “Dammit.”

“Hey, Lil, it’s okay. I promise.” He caresses the side of my face with his big hand, his thumb tracing the fullness of my cheek.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” I say, trying to play it off. “I just wish I knew what the fuck was going on.”

“It will be okay,” he replies, but then purses his lips. I can tell he’s uneasy about it, too, which doesn’t make me feel any better.

I look at Danforth who is a few feet away, trying not to invade our privacy. “I’m so sorry about all this.”

“Nonsense. These things happen.”

I turn back to Jackson. “You should go back out there,” I tell him. “You two should have some time to ski and talk and—“

“I’m not going to leave you like this. Are you kidding?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll—“ Carina appears in view with not just a glass of champagne, but a whole bottle. “Carina can stay with me. Right? The boys should go back out, and we’ll stay in here.”

Carina smiles, sharp canines glinting unfathomably white. “Yes! We’ll be fine here.”

Danforth smiles. “That’s sweet of you, honey, but that depends on how Jackson feels.”

Jackson is ready to shake his head and deny my appeal, but I reach out and grab his hand. “Please, go. I want you to go. Otherwise, it’ll make me feel worse for all of this.”

His brow hardens.

“Please, Jackson,” I say with a smile, taking his hand. “I’ll feel so much worse if you don’t go.”

Jackson opens his mouth to speak, but Danforth interrupts him, clapping his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “You heard her. Let’s hit the slopes and let the ladies rest.”

Danforth’s way of speaking, of being is very . . . old school is a polite way of putting it. But in times like this, I’m grateful for his diversion.

“Yes, you two boys go, and we’ll drink champagne and talk about you behind your backs,” Carina says, shooing her hand toward Jackson to get him to get up from the chaise. “I need some company, anyway.”

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