Page 80 of The Mountain
“Honestly. After that first turn, I thought about sitting down and having ski patrol come get me,” she admits. The smile stretched across her face softens, and she adds: “I can’t believe I just did that.”
“I can,” I say without hesitation.
And I mean it. For all the doubts I might have had at the start, after that first day, I knew Jackie wasn’t the sort to back down from a challenge. Not when she decided she wanted to do this.
“I couldn’t have done this without you.” Her expression grows serious, and she takes off her gloves, then unzips her jacket pocket, frowning slightly as she rifles around for whatever it is she’s looking for.
I wait, ignoring the sound of skis scraping past behind me, several feet away, not minding the snow against my knees, cold even through my thermals and snowboard pants. We’re in a safe-enough spot to stop—off to the side of the run, tucked in the dark shade of looming pines but still visible to oncoming skiers.
“Here.” She pulls out an envelope from her pocket, folded in half and thick, and thrusts it toward me. “This is for you. It’s your tip. I know we still have a few days left, but I wanted you to have it.” She gives me a wry smile. “It’s Christmas, after all.”
My gloves close around the envelope before her words fully register. “My… my tip?”
Of course I’d hoped for a tip. I’d heard the stories from other instructors—some of them practically myth, really—about tips they’d gotten. Everyone’s heard the story of the instructor who got a car gifted to her at the end of the season—that one is more urban legend than anything—but I know from Liam that what he earns in tips is enough to pay his rent, buy his groceries, and still have enough to save. His wage—a pittance, in comparison—is really just a bonus now.
I stare at the envelope for a long moment, terrified to open it in the snow, with the fluttering wind wrapping around us. I tuck it into my inside pocket, zip it tight, aware of the extra bulk against my chest.
“It’s two thousand dollars.” Jackie announces lightly, and I choke on my saliva, my eyes going wide as I stare up at her inhorror. “I wasn’t sure what percentage I was meant to do. They say fifteen or twenty percent, but I know how poorly you must be paid. I’ve asked around and… well, let’s just say with what I’m paying for lessons, you really should be making more than you probably are.”
I open my mouth to protest, but no words come out, and she lifts one hand, silencing anything I might have said.
“Besides, you mentioned you were thinking of going to go train in the off-season. To go and get a higher-level certification or something?” Her forehead dips beneath her helmet, eyes narrowing.
I give a wordless nod, my mouth feeling dry.
“Well, think of this as a scholarship then. I mean, I know it won’t be enough to cover everything, but if you feel uncomfortable, use it for that.” She gives a bright smile, clearly feeling pleased with herself.
“Okay.” The word comes out breathless, my lungs constricting as my heart races, a pounding, franticly hopeful rhythm in my chest. “Thank you.”
Because what else can I say? If there are more eloquent ways of expressing my gratitude, they’re lost in the swirling snowstorm of my thoughts, dancing like sparkling snowflakes, beautiful but impossible to capture.
Jackie rises to her feet, her expression softening, going almost pensive, vulnerable. “After what you’ve given me, it’s the least I could do.”
I blink up at her, shoving against snow as I push to my feet.What I’ve given her?I’ve taught her to snowboard, sure, but anyone could have done that.
Then with a flash, all traces of vulnerability are gone, and Jackie is smirking at me, eyes dancing teasingly before she lowers her goggles. “Now, let’s go get some lunch and you can tell me all about how you ended up with five boyfriends.”
Chapter 29
Lily
I’ve never been nervous to talk to my guys, but I’m nervous now.
Before, going anywhere but home with my tail between my legs after this season had been nothing more than an impossible dream. Now, with two thousand dollars in my pocket and Grandpa’s promise echoing in my thoughts, that’s changed.
Now, there’s nothing between me and a season training in New Zealand, except my own fears and self-doubts.
It’s exhilarating—and terrifying. Terrifying because I could very well end up going on my own. Because everything I have with the guys could end after the season finishes anyway—only, instead of it being me leaving, going home out of necessity, it could be them saying goodbye to me.
They’d have every right not to follow me to New Zealand, or not to want to continue what we have once we’re there. We haven’t made any promises to each other. And while I know Eddie andLiam are going back to New Zealand for the off-season, I have no idea what Matty, Seth, or Antoine plan on doing.
Maybe, like me, they’d like to go, but don’t have the money to make their dreams a reality.
These thoughts have me staying silent the whole ride home, letting Eddie’s and Matty’s easy chatter fill the cramped space of my car, alongside the tired grumbling of the engine. If Liam looks at me with narrow-eyed suspicion, or Seth frowns at my silence, I wouldn’t know. I’m too busy watching the snowflakes falling lazily on the freshly plowed road, my hands gripping the wheel tighter than they need to, given the easy road conditions.
“You’re very quiet,” Antoine observes, his voice dipping low as he brushes his shoulder against mine in the kitchen. We’re making spaghetti and meatballs, and a bottle of merlot sits on the counter between us, already half-empty.
My stomach twists around the half glass of wine I’ve consumed and I wonder if maybe I should have eaten something first.
