Page 51 of The Mountain
I want it. I want it so bad it hurts, fracturing down the heart of me, bitter as the ice-coated wind. I was a fool to ever think I’d be able to go home after a season, that I could leave them behind. That I could leavethisbehind.
“They’re not just my roommates,” I rasp, staring down at the blank screen of my phone. As if I can make it light up with one of their numbers by sheer force of will. “They’re… more than that.”
The admission tapers off, swallowed up in the sound of skis scraping around us, and I realize with no small amount of shame that I haven’t told anyone about me and the guys. Not my friends back home, not Tessa. No one.
Jackie is silent for a long moment, and I swear I can hear her mind whirring as she processes what I’ve told her.
“Well. That’s…” She gives an audible swallow, her boots and board scuffling against the snow as she scoots closer to wrap one arm awkwardly around my shoulders. “Um…”
It’s possibly the most awkward hug I’ve ever received in my entire life.
Any other time, and I would have laughed. Now, that glimmer of affection hammers through me, echoing against the longing that I’ve been ignoring for weeks. The ache of homesickness every time I’ve sent a text to my parents, or smelled the warm scent of cinnamon at the café, or been bombarded with images of happy family Christmases…
It’s Christmas tomorrow.
A sob bursts out, harsh and choking, and I press my face against my shoulder, holding my breath in an effort to stop it. I don’t want to cry. Not here, with the icy wind stripping me bare, with Jackie beside me, with all these strangers skiing past.
“Hey.” Another squeeze, this one slightly less awkward, and certainly more forceful than comforting. “That’s enough.” There’s a sharp edge to her voice, more of that lawyer from the first day I met her. “You don’t know that they were caught up in the avalanche. And even if they were, people can survive that sort of thing, right? I mean, it’s right outside the resort. Surely, they’ll send ski patrol or something over there.” She gives me a little shake. “There’s no point in crying right now, not until you know. Right now, you need to focus. Gather your facts. Find out what’s going on.”
I gulp in a shuddering breath, swiping at my face with the back of my glove. She’s right. I know she’s right. It’s exactly what I would have told someone if I was in her place.
But I’m not in her place. I’m in my place, with my heart shattering like cracked ice down the center of my soul.
“Okay.” The word comes out breathy, raw. I give a short nod. “You’re right.”
I press my lips together and swallow against the painful lump in my throat. I’ve always hated crying, hated how vulnerable it makes me feel, the way it sends everything rushing forth, like water through a burst dam. The way you can never quite put yourself back together after. I turn to give her a weak smile. “Let’s go talk to ski patrol and find out what’s happening.”
Chapter 18
Matty
I blink against the glare of the rising sun as we trudge up the ridgeline toward Backyards, the distant neighboring canyon snaking along to our right, swaths of untouched powder to our left.
“Mon dieu, c’est incroyable,” Antoine pants, pausing to catch his breath, then turning to throw me a wide smile over his shoulder.
The sight of him has me pulling up short—that bright and cheerful smile, beautiful against his dark skin. His green eyes sparkling in the newly risen sunlight, his goggles resting on his helmet. The soft scarf peeking out from the collar of his ski coat, the fabric catching on the faint stubble along his jaw.
And last night… his cock, uncut and so different from my own. Lily’s tongue sliding over the weeping head. Her mouth, still dripping with his cum, opening to engulf my own throbbing length…
Seth knocks against my back, mumbling out an apology and gripping my shoulders to keep me upright.
“No worries, buddy,” I say with a dry chuckle, patting his gloved hand. I scuff my feet in the snow, sending a few small clumps careening over the cornice to our left, then clear my throat and adjust my hold on my board.
“Hey! This isn’t a fucking sight-seeing tour,” Eddie gripes from the front, shooting the three of us a glare from around Liam’s shoulder. “We’re going to miss getting fresh tracks.”
Sure enough, another group of guys is coming up behind us, their faces set with identical expressions of grim determination as they jog up the ridgeline.
Jogging. At ten-thousand-feet altitude.
I shake my head, lungs burning in protest at just the thought of trying that. Even at my fittest, even when I was training every day, I doubt any amount of fresh snow would have inspired me to run at this altitude.
“There’s plenty of snow for everyone,” Liam says, rolling his eyes at Eddie’s antics, but even he picks up the pace, not quite jogging, but definitely walking faster. I huff in disbelief and continue my steady plodding.
A couple minutes later, the other guys are passing us anyway.
“Oh. Hey, there.” Behind me, Seth steps to one side of the ridge to make way for the group, and I follow his example. “Great day for it, aye? Have a good run, guys!”
A couple of the guys grunt out a reply, the rest settling for a chin lift or nod as they jog past us, faces red and eyes glazed from lack of oxygen.
