Page 43 of The Proximity Effect

Thirty minutes later, I found myself in my snowboarding gear and sitting next to Liam on the chairlift. The cold mountain air bit at the exposed part of my face, a sharp reminder that I’d rather be in my warm office right now, dealing with things I could control. Flying down a mountain was not my idea of control.

“You’re rusty as hell,” Liam commented as we ascended, the lift swaying slightly. “Your stance was all wrong during the practice run.”

“Thanks for the critique.” The boots were foreign on my feet, and the board dangling below us seemed to mock me with its presence, but it was hard not to think about how this felt like old times.

“You remember how to get off the lift without eating snow?”

“Fuck off.” But there was no heat in it. The crisp mountain air was already working its magic, making my stress, including certain desk-related incidents, feel distant.

“There he is.” Liam grinned, the expression transforming his usually serious face. “I was starting to think Corporate Archer had completely taken over.”

“Corporate Archer pays the bills.” I adjusted my gloves, wanting to focus on something else other than how much I’d let work become me instead of it just being part of my life.

“Yeah, but he’s kind of an asshole.” Liam squinted against the sun that transformed the snow into a sea of diamonds. “Remember that time when you convinced that ski patrol guy you were a professional snowboarder shooting a documentary?”

Despite myself, I laughed, the sound foreign to my own ears. “Nearly got us arrested.” The memory was crystal clear—Liam playing cameraman while I spouted ridiculous technical terms I’d made up on the spot.

Our conversation flowed easier than it had in years, memories bubbling up like spring water through ice. For a moment, it was like nothing had changed—like we were still those reckless college kids with more ambition than sense, before real life and real consequences had driven wedges between us.

“When you tried to teach Gavin that snowboard trick...” Liam’s laugh was tinged with nostalgia. “He face-planted so many times we started calling him the Snowplow.”

“And he kept getting up, determined to master it.”

“That was Gavin, though. Never knew when to quit. Kind of like how he never gave up on us, even after everything.” His words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning.

“We’ve lost a lot of time. Time we can never get back.” The words scraped against my throat like sandpaper, and I had to force them past the unfamiliar tightness. Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten how to do this—how to be real with people. “Maybe we all need to put in more effort.”

“Wow. If I had known strapping your board to your feet would finally get you to show some emotion, I would have done it sooner.” He sighed. “It's hard being here without him. Especially when we’re always bickering.”

“We’ve always bickered.” But I knew what he meant. Our once-playful jabs had grown sharp edges, designed to wound rather than tease. The ghost of who we used to be haunted every interaction.

“Speaking of bickering...” Liam said as we approached the top, “I think I’m going to ask Tessa out. Like, on a real date.”

The world tilted sideways. My board snagged on the off-ramp, and I stumbled like a first-timer, barely managing to stay vertical as we dismounted. The perfect metaphor for how those words had knocked me completely off balance.

“Whoa, you okay there?” Liam steadied me, his gloved hand gripping my arm. “We should check your bindings again.”

“I’m fine.” I shrugged him off with more force than necessary. “I lost my balance for a second.”

The roar in my ears had nothing to do with altitude and everything to do with the vivid memory of Tessa—the soft sounds she’d made, the way she’d melted against me, the taste of her lips.

“Right.” Liam’s eyes narrowed before he snapped his goggles down. “Nothing to do with me mentioning Tessa?”

“Why would that affect me?” I aimed for casual and missed by a mile.

“I don’t know.” His voice dripped with false innocence as we positioned ourselves at the starting point. “Maybe because you had your tongue down her throat a few days ago, and now you’re acting weird anytime she’s mentioned or anytime you see her.”

Was I really that obvious? I’d spent years perfecting my poker face, and here I was, being read like a picture book.

“I’m not acting weird.” The words came out strained, like they’d been squeezed through a vice. “She’s our employee. I’m maintaining professional boundaries.”

“Is that what we’re calling it? Because from where I’m standing, those went out the—” He paused, and I could practically see the pieces clicking together behind his goggles. “Hold up. Did something else happen between you two?”

“We should focus on the run.” I cursed myself for leaving the safe haven of my office. “Unless you’re scared I’ll show you up even if I’m a bit rusty.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” Liam’s grin turned predatory, reminding me of countless competitions in the past. “Game on, Blackwell. But this conversation isn’t over.”

Chapter 16

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