Chapter Seventeen #2
Matt’s parents come here often and keep this place stocked like they’re prepping for the apocalypse. There’s neatly stacked logs beside the sleek black fireplace, and I know the cabinets will be full of snacks and supplies.
Kevin’s already sprawled in the armchair, one leg hooked over the side like he owns the place. Amber’s curled up on the couch with a book, Jeff’s in the kitchen mixing a drink, and Megan scrolls through her phone. It’s the same setup as always.
Same scene. Same people. Same weekend tradition. Except now, I’m walking in with Alley—my future wife.
“Hey guys!” I call across the room.
Amber looks up, smiling as she echoes, “Hey guys.” She starts to get up, while Jeff shouts from the kitchen, asking what we want to drink. Megan and Kev mumble half-hearted greetings from their spots.
“Anything with tequila,” I call back to Jeff as I shrug off my coat, shaking out the cold. I turn to Alley, reaching for hers, only to find her still standing there, mouth gaping as she takes it all in.
“Holy crap. This place is phenomenal.” Her grin spreads wide, eyes going big as she turns to meet my gaze. “I’m so excited to be here!”
I guess it does have a bit of a shock factor for a first-timer. Huge open space, floor-to-ceiling windows framing nothing but trees covered in snow. And I’m not one to get all in my feels about scenery, but damn—it’s beautiful.
Megan finally peels herself off the couch, coming over to hug us after Amber. “How was the drive?” she asks.
“It was good,” Alley and I say at the same time.
“Went by fast,” I add.
Alley kicks off her boots and steps onto the wood floor. “Holy shit. The floors are heated.”
“Just wait till you take a shit,” Kevin calls from across the room.
I chuckle, catching Alley’s gaze.
Megan shoots Kevin a look of disgust. “Get your ass off the couch and come say hello.”
“All the toilets have bidets with heated seats and warm water,” I tell Alley.
Megan turns back to her with a deadpan expression. “It’s like a day spa for your ass.”
“Can’t wait,” Alley says with a laugh, her one dimple sinking deep into her cheek. Swear to God, my heart fucking bursts.
“I’m gonna grab my drink. What can I get you?” I ask, kicking off my shoes.
Her gaze sweeps over the kitchen counter, lighting up when she spots the espresso machine.
“Can you make me a coffee?”
“Sure thing, babe.” I press a quick kiss to her lips and turn toward the kitchen—
Megan grabs my arm, yanking me back. “Will you make me an espresso martini?”
I arch a brow. “Do we have the stuff for that?”
“Of course we do. You know how I love your espresso martinis. You make them the best.” She flashes me a grin. “I brought everything. It’s all on the counter.”
“Matt makes them better,” I say, matter-of-fact.
“I know, but he’s not here.” Megan gives me a sweet, pleading smile before pressing her hands together in fake prayer. “Pleeeease.”
I chuckle, giving in. “Sure. Whatever.” I pull free from her grasp and head into the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later we’re all gathered in the living room, drinks in hand, catching up. Megan’s mid-rant about a woman at her work having an affair with a coworker when Matt’s car finally pulls up.
He steps out, grabbing his bag, and I do a double take. No Jordan?
I watch the passenger door, waiting, expecting her to emerge. But she doesn’t.
Megan notices instantly. “Where the hell is Jordan?”
I shrug, catching her eye—a look passes between us, saying everything we’re thinking but not saying.
I exhale. “Who fucking knows?”
The door swings open, and Matt’s voice booms through the cabin. “Hey, guys.”
He steps in, stomping the snow off his boots as he pulls off his coat. He kicks off his shoes, barely pausing before heading straight for the kitchen.
We all greet him, but he’s already reaching for the whiskey, practically pouring before he even grabs a glass.
Yeah. Something’s up.
I make my way over as everyone else falls back into conversation. Sensing something off, I tread carefully. “Hey, man. How was the drive?”
“Good,” he says, voice neutral. “Peaceful.”
Too neutral.
I study him, but he keeps his gaze locked on his drink, swirling the amber liquid. “Yeah? What happened to Jordan?”
He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Bailed last minute. Something about a new guy she’s seeing.”
I raise a brow. “Really? Damn.”
He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Told her she could have her own room. We’re just friends. But I don’t know, man… some guys just aren’t secure enough to let their girl have guy friends.”
“Yeah. Hard to say where the line is with that.” I don’t really know what to say. We all know if Jordan came, they’d sleep together. It’s just what they do. And honestly? If she’s finally putting her foot down because she’s seeing someone, good for her.
But I still feel for Matt. It’s not just about sex. He loves hanging out with her, too.
Matt mutters something under his breath in disagreement.
“Sorry, man. Hopefully, you guys can work things out when you get back,” I say, taking a sip of my drink.
He scoffs. “Yeah, I’m not holding my breath. She’ll push me out of her life—like she always does when she’s seeing someone.”
I get it. But I can’t blame her, either. “Well, you’ll deal with it like you always do. But for now, just try to forget about it and enjoy the weekend.”
Matt nods, letting out a slow breath. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll deal with it later. So, what’s the plan?”
“For tonight? Drinking, games… just shooting the shit.”
He takes a sip of his Old Fashioned. “Sounds exactly like the kind of night I need.”
I clap Matt on the back, then head for the living room. Sinking onto the couch, I wrap an arm around Alley, pulling her close. She leans into me without hesitation, like she belongs there.
The fire crackles, drinks are flowing, Megan’s laugh carries through the wide open space—it’s the same weekend tradition I’ve known for years. But it hits different this time.
I give Alley’s shoulder a squeeze, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. Yeah. This is gonna be one to remember.
“Snowplow, babe! Plow! Plow!”
Too late.
Alley flies straight for me, arms crossed over her face like she’s bracing for impact. I plant my skis, ready to take the hit—but at the last second, she flings herself backward, landing hard on her ass.
A puff of powder explodes around her as she skids to a stop just inches from my feet.
She blinks up at me, dazed. Then bursts out laughing. “Oh my God. That could’ve been so bad.”
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 wobbly in 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.