Page 36 of The Season
We’re at my car now, and Matty reluctantly releases his hold on me so that I can rifle around in my coat pocket for the car keys.
“Four years.” The words come out rough, almost gravelly sounding, his blue eyes dulling before he drops his gaze to the muddy slush beneath our feet.
I gape, quickly swallowing back the exclamation of surprise.Four years? He was in the military for four years?
Before I can say anything to embarrass myself further, Matty plasters on a smile and gently pries the keys from my hands before opening the car door for me. “You good to drive, babe?” he asks, holding the door for me as I climb in.
Babe.
I bite back a smile and buckle my seatbelt. “Yah. I’m good,” I tell him, not daring to look up at him until he’s gently closing my door, then clambering over the snowdrifts to get to the other side of the car.
Matty is unusually quiet on the car ride home, his large hands gripping his knees as we rumble over lumps of ice and grit on the nearly-empty road. I can’t help darting the occasional glance toward him, wondering what he meant by calling mebabe, if it was an accident, or if that’s just something he calls all girls he’s friends with.
I also can’t stop thinking about what he told me—that he was in the military for four years.Four years.
A lot can happen to a person in the military in a shorter amount of time.
“Are you going on this ski day thing that Seth is organizing? To the Canyons?” Matty asks as we pull into the condo parking lot, the abruptness of his question catching me momentarily off guard.
“I’m thinking about it,” I reply, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel before putting the car into park. “I probably should, right?”
Seth created a group chat for all of us, and he’s been going on about how much fun it would be to have a “house ski day” at the neighboring ski resort.
As much as I like the idea of getting to know all the guys I’m living with a bit better, I’m also nervous about going riding with them. I get the feeling they’re all a lot more advanced than I am. I don’t want to be the tag-along little sister who they all have to wait for.
I unbuckle my seatbelt, then turn to face Matty. “Are you going?” At least he’s at my level, so if he goes, I’ll have someone to ride with. Someone who won’t be waiting at the bottom of each run tapping their foot impatiently for me to catch up. “If you go, I’ll go.”
His eyes widen in surprise, the blue momentarily brighter than the clear sky behind him, and then a smile stretches across his face. It’s a real, full smile, the kind that has his cheeks dimpling and the corners of his eyes creasing.
Something sparks behind my ribs at the sight of it, and I can’t help but lean just a little bit closer to him, like I’m some sort of moth attracted to the brilliance of his joy.
“Absolutely I’ll be going,” he says, beaming at me. “It’ll be nice to ride with you for fun. You know, instead of just training together.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, and my heart flutters stupidly for a moment—until I realize he’s probably just looking at my split lip. My tongue darts out, self-consciously tracing my cut and swollen lower lip before I can stop myself.
He leans forward, his fingertips twitching where they grip his knee. “I… I never did thank you for all the help you’ve given me this week. With training and… you know, helping me understand Liam’s instructions.”
His voice is low, almost breathy, and he’s close enough now that I can smell the hint of sweat from snowboarding all day, mingled with the cinnamon smell of his bodywash. It’s a nice smell, warm and comforting.
“You don’t need to thank me,” I say, waving one hand dismissively and giving him as much of a smile as my split lip will allow.
I don’t think I’ve done that much, not really. If anything, helping him has given me a chance to use the teaching techniques we’ve been learning. Techniques that we’ll be tested on in a week’s time.
“I think I do.”
With a suddenness that has my entire body stilling, he reaches up, one large palm coming to rest against my windburned cheek, his fingertips brushing under my tangled braid, his thumb stroking the unbruised part of my cheekbone. My breath hitches, and his own eyes widen in surprise, like even he wasn’t expecting to make this move.
The rapping of knuckles against the window has Matty’s cheeks flaming red, his hand flying back as if my skin burns him.
“Hey, what are you guys doing in there?” Tom’s gratingly familiar voice filters through the glass, and I turn to frown at him. “The windows are all steamed up,” he says by way of explanation, a lewd grin showcasing crooked teeth. “You guys getting it on?”
I turn back to Matty and give him a wide-eyed, incredulous look. “Getting it on,” I whisper loudly. “Who even says that?”
Matty chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I might have. Once or twice,” he admits sheepishly.
I snort out a laugh, then grimace when Tom raps on my window a second time.
“What do you want?” Matty asks, climbing out of the passenger side of the car. “We just finished training for the day.”
