Page 54 of A Love That Broke Us
I exhale a laugh as I crouch to help her up. “Jesus, babe. You’re gonna take someone out. You okay?”
She takes my hand, groaning as she stands. “Yeah. But I think I bruised my ass.”
I click out of my skis, then bend down to unclip hers. “Maybe next time, don’t panic-flop.”
She lets out another laugh, brushing snow off her pants. “Oh, that’s what we’re calling it?”
I chuckle. She’s a disaster out here. She keeps forgetting how to stop, her turns are a lost cause, and after three hours, we’re no closer to getting off the bunny hill than we were ninety minutes ago. But she’s a damn good sport. And even though I’m itching to hit a tougher run, I’m having a blast.
Alley has a way of making everything fun. Shit, she could make knitting fun. (Not that I’d ever willingly do that. Jesus.)
She presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Thanks for sticking with me.”
“Always,” I say grinning.
She sighs dramatically. “I think I need a break. Wanna grab a beer? Then you can meet up with the guys and hit a few runs.”
“That sounds perfect.” I pause, frowning. “You sure you’re good with me ditching you for a bit?”
She waves me off. “Oh yeah. That fireplace in the lodge is calling my name. I’ll be fine, babe. I have my Kindle.”
We trudge toward the lodge, skis in tow. She’s still a little wobblyin her boots, but managing. And when she stumbles, laughing at herself, I can’t help but laugh with her.
She may suck at skiing. But she’s still my favorite person to do it with.
Outside the lodge, we prop our skis in the designated racks, then step inside. The blast of heat is instant, thawing my face.God, that feels good.
Matt’s already at the bar, beer in hand, looking gloomy as hell. This thing with Jordan is messing with his head, but I don’t know if it will ever be enough to make him change—make him want more.
As we approach, he exhales, rolls his shoulders, then plasters a smile on his face like nothing’s wrong. “Hey, you’re alive!” He stands, pulling Alley into a hug. Classic Matt—acting like he’s fine, drowning whatever he’s feeling in booze and jokes.
Within minutes, I’ve managed to pull him out of it—or at least, he’s letting me think I have. We’re all laughing, Matt and I reminiscing about past ski trips, dragging Alley into the stories.
My gaze locks on her as she laughs, the sound ringing out over the bar, her smile lighting up the whole damn room. I could watch her forever. The way her dimple pops when she laughs, how her eyes brighten when Matt teases her, how her voice is so effortlessly cheerful it could make the saddest person feel happy—even if only for a moment.
She’s not loving the skiing, I know that. But she’ll keep coming, year after year. Just like football. She’ll either pretend to love it, learn to love it, or push through. And that thought—the way she does these things for me—fuck. It makes my chest ache.
There’s not another woman in the world like Alley.
Not one.
And I’m so fucking grateful she chose me.
Chapter Eighteen
ALLEY
THEN
I drainthe last of the champagne in my plastic cup and turn to the mirror again, a laugh bursting out as I take myself in.
“Take that ugly-ass dress off, now!” Megan says, her laughter echoing through the store. The second we make eye contact, I completely lose it.
“Shh! You guys!” Amber scolds, though she’s fighting back her own laugh.
“She looks like she’s about to become a sister wife from the 1800s,” Megan snorts, doubling over.
I bend at the waist, tears stinging my eyes from laughing so hard.
