Page 1 of Since Always

CHAPTER 1

Cassidy

The smell of this house instantly reminds me of my father. It's the fireplaces—all eight of them—burning throughout the 20,000-foot residence. My dad would insist on each one being lit the entire time we were here in Aspen. I asked him once why we didn't put the gas logs in this house that we used in our main house in Denver.

"Because I want this place to feel special," he told me, his warm face smiling. "I want it to always feel like magic here."

I head away from the foyer to my bedroom, passing my brother Chris’s open door and noting his unmade bed and the clothes he has already scattered across the floor. He's been here twelve hours. The world knows Chris only as a titan of industry—handsome and put together and always dressed to the nines.

If only they knew the tornado he actually is.

I turn down the hallway I share with only one other room—one I fight the urge to stop and peer inside just to make sure it's actually being used this trip. I know it is, though, since I casually verified its occupant was on the plane with my mom and brother last night. My breathing quickens at the thought.

Whether it is with dread or excitement, I'm still not sure.

Inside my room, I strip out of my wet clothes and glance with longing at my bed. I stayed in Denver an extra night to attend the post-Christmas party of an old high school friend, and then tagged along on another friend's plane that was coming up here this morning. All-in-all, I got three still partially drunk hours of sleep last night before a bumpy plane ride over the Rockies.

I am still exhausted and queasy.

I turn away from the bed, though, knowing I should go and meet my family. I'm also itching to get on the slopes.

A shower would help me feel more alive.

After finishing undressing in my bathroom, I reach in to turn the water on when the faucet breaks off into my hand.

"Shit,” I say, setting it on the counter. I groan, making a mental note to let our caretaker know, and then wrap my towel around me so I can use one of the other six bathrooms in the house.

I head straight for Owen's en suite. I know I should probably use one of the guest baths, but I also know he is out with my mom and brother and his is the closest one to my room.

And, let's be honest, his smells like him.

I note his open toiletry bag on the counter as I turn on the water, and fight the urge to rifle through it. Using his shower might be borderline creepy, but I'm not quite to the “I wanted to smell your cologne and taste your toothpaste” level of stalker just yet.

As I step into the shower, I can feel my nerves bubbling up. He’s avoided these trips with my family and had zero contact with me for two years, but in the next couple of hours, I will finally be face-to-face with him. I take deep breaths of the steam-filled air to calm myself. All I can do is hope that it has been long enough for him to forgive me. I doubt it has, though. After all, it hasn’t been long enough for me to forgive myself.

With one towel wrapped around my body and another around my hair, I step out of the bathroom and his firm body collides with mine.

He jumps back, startled. "Jesus, Cass. You scared me."

"I'm...I'm so sorry. My shower broke. The knob came off when I turned it. I thought you'd be out there. On the mountain. I didn't think..."

I will myself to stop my awkward stammering.

He shuffles from one foot to the other, his eyes pointedly avoiding mine as he glances into the bathroom behind me.

"No problem."

The air feels cold on my exposed skin and reminds me of how little of my body is covered. I clasp my hand hard over the towel. I knew it would be strange the first time we saw each other, but I hadn't expected to be naked for it, and right now my skin feels very aware of his presence. I watch his eyes as they finally scan over me, spotting the wet cleavage spilling over the top of the towel.

He jerks his attention up to my face, and I know this isn't quite how he envisioned this moment, either.

"You aren't on the slopes?" I say, trying to control my breathing.

"I had to come back for a conference call. Just grabbing some papers for it." He sounds off-kilter, which is strange for the most unremittingly composed person I've ever known.

Silence again. I trail my eyes over the face I see on TV and online all the time. It is different, seeing him here like this. He clenches his strong, angular jaw; his deep brown eyes are wide and still startled. There is the hint of scruff growing across his skin, which is something I only ever get to see here, away from work. This familiarity warms me, despite the unease of the moment. But there is something else in his face as well—something I've never seen before when he looked at me.

He is uncomfortable with me, and the reality of that is something that almost buckles my knees.

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