Page 97 of The Lodge

Chloe doesn’t pick up, but a text lights my screen almost immediately.

Finishing up a meeting right now, can I call you back in five?

Oh, right. It’s a regular weekday down in New York; of course she’s at work. They’re only getting rain today and not record-breaking amounts of snow.

Outside my own bedroom windows, it’s a gorgeous wonderland, a blanket of white as far as I can see. The Yeti continues to dump thick, puffy snowflakes over everything, and I have thestrangest sensation that time has actually stopped—especially since Chloe’s five minutes turn into ten, and each feels eternal.

I pace my bedroom, anxious energy shadowing me with every step. An email alert on my phone makes me jump: it’s not Chloe calling me back, but it’s something to do while I wait.

When I check it out, I freeze.

It’s Aspen Underwood again, reaching out on behalf of Gloss—but it’s not just an innocuous follow-up.

It’s my worst nightmare.

To:Alix Morgan ([email protected])

From:Aspen Underwood ([email protected])

Subject:RE: Open Invitation

Hi again, Alix—

I hope this email finds you well! Just wanted to circle back in light of the posts that are popping up today on social.

There’s a fair bit of speculation going on aboutthis photo posted by u/AnicaWithTheHotTeaover on Dewdrops—seeing as you’re writing about Sebastian Green, I was wondering if you had any insight into the identity of the man on the far right? Everyone thinks he resembles Jett Beckett—and tbh, I agree—but we have a strict policy about verifying rumors before posting (unlike some of the tabloid outlets like Moondazzle), and I thought you might be my best hope of confirming them.

If you know anything and are willing to go on record about it and give us an exclusive interview, please reach out ASAP.Feel free to text or call—my number is below. We can pay you more than generously.

Best,

Aspen

Wait. What?

What photo is she talking about?

I tap on the link in her email, and my stomach turns to lead. I’ve just started reading the comments when Chloe finally calls me back. She’s at her office desk, using her work laptop.

“Whoa, Alix, are you okay?” she asks.

I blink, dazed.

“I… am not. No. Hold on just a second—”

I grab my own laptop so I can send her the post Aspen sent without leaving the call.

Her eyes shift away from the camera as she pulls up the link. I watch as she scans the post, her face morphing from perplexed to concerned in a heartbeat.

A minute later, she gasps—

Presumably, she’s just gotten to the comment I was reading when her call interrupted:Friend of a friend took the shot at some resort up in Vermont. Said this guy’s going by Tyler, so I did a deep dive… I found a review that mentions a ski instructor named Tyler Fox at Black Maple Lodge up in Stowe!

That isn’t even the thing that’s making me feel like I might throw up.

There’s only one person who could have taken this picture. Only one person who could havesharedthis picture.

“Hang on just a second, let me close my door.” Chloe disappears from the screen, then flops back into her desk chair a momentlater. “So, uh—Alix—is there something you’ve been meaning to tell me?”

---