Page 37 of The Mountain
“Thanks,” I tell her, smiling around the lump in my throat. “Appreciate it.”
She snorts, the look of concern quickly replaced by haughty satisfaction. “Thank you for proving me right.”
And then she’s turning on her heel, her snowboard boots thudding on the cement floor of the locker room. There’s an uncomfortable stretch of silence left in her wake, and I can feel Pete’s eyes on me as I pull on my boots.
Finally, he clears his throat, then says: “Heard you were off sick on Tuesday.”
I almost smile to myself at his blatant question. At his obvious fishing for information. At least, until John chimes in from his other side, his voice muffled as he pulls on a thick wool sweater.
“Can’t believe they let you have time off during the busy season,” he grumbles. “Pretty unfair if you ask me.”
Anger rushes through me, a searing heat like fire in my blood.
Unfair. Yes, it is unfair. It’s unfair that I couldn’t trust my own roommate to make me a drink. It’s unfair that if Eddie hadn’t found me, if the rest of the guys hadn’t intervened, Sunday night would have had a very different outcome for me.
“And I heard Stephanie put you and a bunch of other women instructors on private lessons. We have a ranking system for a reason, you know. It’s discrimination against men. I’ve been teaching for twenty years, and you still see me at the lineup on group lessons.” His voice is rising in volume now, and I feel a few eyes turning to look at us, the weight of their gazes prickling against my skin.
I swallow, mouth dry, stomach twisting with uncertainty at his words. At how they echo my own thoughts, the constant mantra of self-doubt that’s always whispering at the back of my mind.You’re not a real instructor. You don’t deserve to be here. You don’t ride well enough. You haven’t trained enough.
But Stephanie doesn’t think so. And Jackie doesn’t either.
It hits me then, with sudden clarity, like when the clouds part over the mountains, turning the whiteout to a bluebird day, and suddenly you can see every glistening detail sparkling in vivid relief.
I don’t think John or Pete would have been able to teach Jackie. I’m not even sure if Liam would have been able to teach her like I did, to get her to face her fear, to slowly build her confidence, one painstakingly slow turn at a time.
Yesterday, I held her hands for the first five runs. I kept my voice gentle and low, carefully guiding her through each movement, our heads bent close together as we moved in sync over the snow. And in between runs, she sat beside me on the lift and opened up her heart, told me about her ex-husband and the pressures of being the first female partner at her law firm and the difficulties of raising a twelve-year-old girl.
She wouldn’t have done that with a male instructor, no matter how well qualified he was, no matter how many years of experience he had.
And at the end of the day, she requestedme. Not any of them.
Pride rushes through me, steadying my shaking hands, filling the ache behind my ribs with a calming warmth. I lift my chin, holding John’s gaze like my grandfather taught me.
Act like you’re a man who has just as much right to sit at the table as they do, he’d said. Well, there’s no table on the snow, no table in the locker room. But I have just as much right to be here as John and Pete. As any instructor.
“Someone roofied my drink on Sunday night,” I tell him baldly, keeping my voice low enough so that only he and Pete will hear. “Stephanie found out and decided it wouldn’t be safe for me to teach on Monday.”
John’s face pales, lips twisting, and he sits hard on the bench, the wood creaking under his sudden weight. His throat bobs, drylips opening and closing again as he looks between me and Pete with horror.
“Thankfully, my roommates found me before anything happened,” I tell him quickly, because he honestly looks like he’s about to be sick, right here on the locker room floor. “They took care of me. And I don’t think the guy will be trying something like that again anytime soon.”
John and Pete both stare at me, twin expressions of shock slackening their weathered features.
“I was there when Stephanie met with Chris to talk about the roster. Stephanie’s decision to make more women instructors available for private lessons was not a spur-of-the-moment thing, from what I understand. She’d been under pressure from the board, because the mountain has been getting requests from customers for female instructors to teach private lessons, and they hadn’t been able to meet those requests. It’s not about who’s been teaching the longest. It’s about who the customers want.”
I lift my chin, that bubble of confidence pushing me forward, sending a rush of strength down my limbs, wrapping around my heart.I deserve to be here. I’m a real instructor.
“And my student—a forty-something-year-old woman who’s never been on the snow in her life—she didn’t want someone like you to teach her. She wanted someone like me.”
Without waiting for them to reply, I rise to my feet, pull on my black instructor’s coat, and give them my back—letting out a small gasp of surprise when I see Liam standing there, a smirk curving his lips, his eyes narrowed with amusement. Tessa isat his side, biting back a grin, her blue eyes sparkling with unabashed delight.
Still, neither of them says a word, not until we’re out of the locker room, the icy morning air cutting through the thick layers of our uniforms, the early sun casting the looming peaks in pinks and purples.
“I think I might be in love with you,” Tessa says, a broad smile splitting her face as she wraps one arm around my shoulders. “That was the most incredible thing I ever heard. Did you see their faces? Epic. Absolutely epic.”
I duck my head, my cheeks burning with embarrassment against the icy air.
When I catch Liam’s eye, he’s staring at me with a mixture of warmth and respect. His gloved hand lifts, then falls at his side, like he wanted to reach out and touch me, maybe grab my hand with his own, but then remembered where we are. He settles for knocking his shoulder against my own and giving me a small smile.
