On the Slopes of Tahoe (Love Along the Way #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Breck

O ne more week. We have just one more week before we board a plane back to Sydney, and I’m dreading it with every passing minute. The positive attitude I wear like a second skin is waning, and unfortunately Willow’s picking up on it.

What other option do we have though? We’ve been living in ignorant bliss, ignoring every bit of the chaos and heartbreak we left behind, but we have to pay the piper eventually.

“Let’s go snowboarding today, just you and me,” I say to Willow across the breakfast bar. She’s been scarfing down the pancakes I made with a scowl in place of her usual smile.

She shrugs and pushes her food around the plate.

“Come on, Bear, it’ll be fun.”

“Fine. Can we invite Rory?”

I button down the hurt, reminding myself she’s a young girl who, maybe, would rather hang out with another girl. Not that I don’t love hanging with Rory, but we need to talk about going home, and I don’t think that should happen with an audience or while we’re trapped in the house.

“She’s working today, but I bet we can see her later.”

“Fine.” She huffs again, her stomping footsteps reverberating all the way up the stairs.

“Dress warm!” I shout after her.

I hang my head and run my hands into my hair. I really need to get it cut. It’s nearly long enough I could pull it up, and that’s never been my vibe.

My phone vibrates against my leg and I’m greeted by a text from Wes.

Wes

Rory just sent me a couple of pictures from Sunday. They’re incredible. Thanks for giving her a hand.

I groan at the unbidden thought about how I gave her more than a hand that night. I want to punch myself. Keeping my relationship—well, friendship with benefits—with Rory separate from the one I have with Wes hasn’t been difficult with the seven thousand miles between us. When thrown together in this way though, I’m very much aware of what I’m doing. Sleeping with my best friend’s sister. Fuck . I hit my head against the counter a couple times before typing out a reply.

Me

It was my pleasure.

Willow has been talking about it nonstop for five days. She wants to be Rory’s permanent assistant.

Wes

Well, I appreciate it. I know she did too.

Are you guys all set to come back next week? Joss is home and will pick you up. I’ll be in training.

Me

Yeah. Everything is set with the tickets. I just wish we felt ready to go back.

My phone rings in my hand. Expecting this, I swipe my finger across the screen and hit the speakerphone button.

“Hey.” I keep my voice even, steady.

“Hey.” There’s concern in his voice. “What’s going on?”

I sigh. “I thought I’d feel ready to deal with everything back home by now, but I just… don’t.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I know, I just feel lost.” I squeeze my eyes shut, vulnerability oppressing my senses. It’s the first time I’ve said that aloud. “It feels like all we have left there is you and Joss. It’s just hard to imagine walking back into our lives like nothing’s changed.”

“I understand that. You know I do,” he says, and he’s right. I watched him rebuild his entire life after the crash. “Do what you need to do, brother. Even if it means staying longer.”

I shake my head, though he can’t see it. “We can’t. Willow starts school the first week of February. That’s only two weeks away and I want us to have a week to get settled before that.”

But, god, I wish we could.

“You’re a smart man,” he says. “I bet you could workshop a solution.”

I scoff. “Like what? Her school’s in Australia. I can’t exactly put her in school here. They’re mid-year.”

“I know. What about remote school? After Covid, you can’t tell me there isn’t some way she could do school from afar for a bit.”

That’s an idea, but… “I don’t know. I’d need to talk to the school and her teacher. And Willow. I don’t know if she’d even want to stay.”

“Well, like I said, do what you guys need to do. We’ll support you.”

I wish I could hug him. I had no idea the friend he would become when we first met as two stupid kids in college, but I’m so grateful for him now.

“Yeah. I’ll think about it. Thanks, mate,” I say, and I can hear Willow coming downstairs. “We’re about to head up the mountain. Talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah. Enjoy the snow, and say hi to my sister for me if you see her.”

“I will. Later, Wes.”

I’ll definitely be seeing Rory—if not on the slopes, then ideally in my bed. I’m so screwed. The more we hook up, the less I want to stop, and it’s going to end up as another thing I have to let go of when we leave.

The slopes are pristine, covered with fresh snow that sparkles like diamonds in the morning light. Willow has moved on from the beginner runs and is pretty comfortable on the intermediate slopes now. She rarely takes me out when we get off the chair anymore either, which is a bonus. I breathe a sigh of relief when today’s first exit from the chair is perfect.

Willow straps into her bindings like an expert—she’s got a knack for this sport and it makes my heart soar every time I watch her. There’s also a pang of longing that goes with it. Longing for my parents to see her like this, for them to help me figure out what on earth to do—with her, with us, with our new, smaller family… With my life. I miss them all the time, but I’ve lived without them for so long now, and I manage that grief by putting on a brave face and suffering mostly in silence. Just like I did when I was thirteen. And again at twenty when I lost my aunt and uncle.

My parents would know what to do to help me navigate this whole situation. The only other time I felt their loss so acutely was when I found out Talia was pregnant. I wanted to share that news with them more than anything—tell them they were going to be grandparents, ask for their advice. I didn’t get that opportunity, and it left a little hole in my heart for what they lost when they died too.

“Daddy, let’s go!” Willow bellows from where she stands at the top of the run. I’m not even clipped into my second binding yet.

“Sorry, Willow Bear, I’m coming.” I make quick work of it and slide in her direction. Instead of stopping, I pass her and flip one-hundred-and-eighty degrees so we’re facing each other. “Wanna race?”

I can’t see her eyebrow raise under her goggles and helmet, but I can picture it. Her smile dazzles me and she nods before flying past me. This was probably a bad idea. I take off after her, the wind tickling my neck beneath my helmet.

A flat section is coming up in the terrain ahead, so I holler at Willow to keep up her speed. If she doesn’t, she won’t make it up the small hill at the end. My focus is on her, gauging whether she’s going to have enough oomph to crest the hill, so I don’t see the person standing just at the top until it’s too late. I slide my board perpendicular to the slope to slow my speed and attempt to maneuver around them, but I clip the edge of their board with mine.

Using every bit of skill in my arsenal, I flip around, hoping I can catch them before they fall. I register only one thing before we tumble together into the snow—turquoise eyes.

I take the brunt of it, falling onto my back and losing my breath as she lands on top of me. We slide a few feet down the slope and her eyes go wide—which I can only see because she’s not wearing her goggles.

“Hi,” I croak, unable to take a full breath. My hands work fine though, and I push her strawberry-blonde braid back over her shoulder.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Rory attempts to clamber off me, but I hold tight, enjoying the unexpected press of her body against mine. She pushes some of her weight into her hands though, and air rushes into my lungs.

“I’m fine. Are you?” I let go of her braid and swipe my thumb across her freckled cheek.

“Yeah.” She puffs out a breath then inhales another big one. “You just surprised me is all.”

“You and me both. I’m sorry, I was focused on Willow.” The reminder has me moving again, trying to dislodge myself while Rory moves with equal urgency, or as much as we can while still strapped to our boards and tangled in the snow.

Once I’m up, I take several large bunny hops up the slope until I can see Willow. She has one foot unstrapped and is skating her way toward us slowly. She clearly didn’t carry her speed enough and got stuck. I’m just glad she didn’t come flying up to add to the dogpile I created. I offer a wave and she waves back, her face a little grumpier than it was a few minutes ago. No one likes getting stuck in the flats.

Rory hops up next to me, a grin playing around her lips. “I can’t believe you crashed into me.”

“I can’t believe you were just standing at the top of the hill,” I retort, incredulous.

“You have me there, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to take in the view of home for a minute.” She turns to face the lake below, where the sun glitters on the blue water that, despite the low temperatures, never freezes over. The shoreline turns icy, but the center of the lake is always like this.

“I’m going to miss this place,” I admit, mostly to myself, but she turns to look at me.

“It’s going to miss you too,” she says, and I hear what she doesn’t say. I’m going to miss you too .

“Rory!” Willow calls, finally making it up the little hill to us. “You’re here! Daddy told me you were working today.” She glares at me like I lied to her.

Rory, picking up on the tone too, comes to my aid. “I was… well, I am. I needed some fresh shots of the mountain, so I came up for a couple runs. I can finish this one with you if you want, but then I have to go back to the office.”

Willow’s face falls but she rallies a small smile and nods. “Okay.”

“Maybe you can tell your dad not to crash into me this time.”

The race to the bottom is much less exciting than the first half, at least in terms of collisions, and we’re all a mess of smiles and laughs, standing off to the side of the growing lift line.

“Time for me to get back to work. Thanks for letting me ride with you, Willow. See you guys for dinner later?” she asks, eyebrow raised. That look holds more promise than the possibility of a meal.

“Absolutely.” I wink, though I’m not sure she can see it behind my goggles.

She pats Willow on the top of her helmet. “Give your dad a run for his money, okay?”

“I will,” she responds in her sing-song voice.

Rory slides away with a wave and a backward glance, and we join the lift line to make our way back up the mountain.

“Willow?” I ask, and she turns to face me on the chair.

“How’re you feeling about going home next week?” It’s time to stop dancing around the subject.

She shrugs, but when her shoulders drop, they slump in a little. “I don’t know. Mom won’t be there, will she?” I hate the tiny bit of hope in the question. It cuts like a knife. We haven’t talked much about Talia, and something about Willow calling her “mom” right now breaks my heart. I’ve lost a mom, now she has too, and I understand just how painful that is.

“No, sweetheart, she won’t be there.”

She sniffles and grabs my gloved hand in hers, tilting her helmet-encased head up. I wish I could see her face more fully.

“I thought I’d miss being home for the summer, miss my friends. But I’m glad we came here. I like it here.”

“I like it here too.” I squeeze her hand.

“I keep thinking… will everyone still be talking about Mom leaving? Like, when I go back to school?”

“I don’t know. I wish I could say they won’t be, but I just don’t know.”

“Why did she leave?”

The question crushes me like a ton of bricks and I choke on the silence that ensues. I don’t know how to answer. She hasn’t asked the question that directly before. After Talia left, we talked about how she was gone, that she wasn’t going to come back, but I think the shock overtook a lot of the deeper, more painful questions. Then we came here and we’ve kind of lived in la-la land ever since.

“I think—” I swallow thickly. My heart is in my throat. “She decided she wanted a life that looked different than ours. She couldn’t see how incredible the life we had was and chose to go after something else. It was selfish, and I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve made her stay—for you, for us.” I wrap my arm around her, her snowsuit sliding across the leather seat as I pull her close. “I will always stay. I will always be here. I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, praying I can be enough for her.

She nods but doesn’t speak. The chair nears the top of the hill, signaling it’s our turn to get off. We don’t fall, so that’s something. We’re standing at the precipice of the mountain once again, looking down at the place we’ve called home for six weeks.

“I wish we could stay,” she says, breaking the silence, and then she takes off down the hill.

“Me too,” I mutter. “Me too.” Then I take off after her, my mind moving faster than we are, trying to figure out how I can make that wish come true for both of us.