Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“What do you think?” Danny asked.
“I think it’s freezing.” I wrapped my jacket tighter around myself.
He smiled and shook his head before slinging his arm around me.
“Okay, better now,” I said, snuggling into him.
The sun had floated to the edge of the mountain range. Soon it would be dark, and there were no lights on at the abandoned ski resort Danny had finally brought me to—the one where they’d been filming nearly every day since I’d arrived.
It was even more remote than I’d pictured.
The parking lot was only maintained by other backcountry skiers, so the road up here had been slightly terrifying.
It was kind of haunting. There were even chairs still strung up on a chairlift, as if everyone had just picked up one day out of nowhere and left.
“The owners went bankrupt,” Danny said, putting a hand on my hip to steady me as I slipped a little on the packed snow.
“And they just left everything?”
“Didn’t have much of a choice.” He helped me over a particularly large snow pile, and I landed with a soft thud on the other side.
There was a flat expanse in front of us, with the snow packed in steep hills collecting right at the base of the mountain.
It was harsh but kind of beautiful in the dim glow of sunset.
“No one else wanted to buy it?” I asked.
“It’s pretty remote out here. Expensive to operate compared to the ski hills closer to bigger cities. None of the big companies wanted it.”
“What was it like when it was open?” I asked, carefully watching my every step.
“I barely remember it. It officially closed when I was seven. But it’s where my dad taught me to ski.” Sadness plagued his voice. I looked back at him. He had a sort of melancholy look on his face as he stared up toward the top of the mountain.
I walked over and squeezed him around his waist. “Is it hard to be here?”
“The first time was. Not only being in a space I used to enjoy with him, but being surrounded by the place that took him…it was heavy.”
I held on tighter, waiting for him to share more. “But it’s not so bad anymore. As the years go by, it gets easier. I’ve had this idea to film here for years. Since high school.”
“And you’re finally doing it.” My chest swelled with pride.
“Finally.” He breathed.
We stood there for a minute, holding each other, taking in the dancing colors in the sky and the almost translucent glow-in-the-dark quality of the snow.
“Do you remember much about your dad?” I asked.
His jaw tensed ever so slightly. “I remember some big moments. Going skiing with him. Hiking. Coming to this cabin. They’re fuzzy.
Almost like a video I used to watch, but they’re still there.
” He hesitated, licking his lips. “The accident happened when I was only eight, but I still remember my mom’s scream when the police came to our door to bring her to the hospital. It haunts me.”
I gulped and held him tighter.
“And she’s never been back to the cabin since?”
He shook his head. “For her, it’s impossible. For me, it’s worth it. I’ve never been happier than when I’m up here in the mountains. I bought the place from my mom a few years back. Even though she couldn’t get herself to come here, she couldn’t bring herself to sell it to some stranger, either.”
I stared up at the steep cliffside in its blanket of snow.
It looked unforgiving. Jagged rocks poked out and broke the soft powder.
What was visible from the base wasn’t even the challenging part of the terrain.
It made me feel small, thinking about Danny skiing down that.
I couldn’t tell him that, though. Couldn’t tell him I was a little worried every time he went out for the day.
It wasn’t like it was a crushing fear…I just wanted my person to be safe.
But Danny wouldn’t take it that way. Any hint of worry I shared could overwhelm him again and cause him to panic. I was terrified I could lose him that way.
“How is the filming going so far?” I asked, breaking away.
He gripped my hand, not letting me walk ahead of him. “Fine so far. We’ve gotten most of the drone shots and videos of us exploring the place. I’ve skied down most of the front, but we need the back to fill in with more snow before we can tackle that.”
“Is that where…” My voice trailed off. I couldn’t quite get the words out. Where the accident happened.
A vein throbbed in his throat as he swallowed. “Yeah, one of the back runs. Not even the hardest terrain out here. His ski got stuck on a rock under some snow, he misjudged how much space he had and went right off a steep ledge. Landed hard in some trees.”
“I’m sorry.” I sounded small. It felt like such a stupid thing to offer him. It wasn’t enough, but I didn’t know what else to say.
He looked down at me, eyes dark, before kissing me on the forehead. “I’m glad I’m finally doing this. It feels cathartic in a way. Like I’m facing my demons or something.”
“How’s your mom taking it?” I asked.
He gave a dark chuckle. “She’s completely horrified. Cried a lot. She must have known I ski out here, but we never talked about it. But with the documentary, I couldn’t hide it. She just wants me to be safe.”
What a novel idea.
“Want to see something cool?” He jerked his gloved hand over his shoulder. The sky had deepened to a dark shade of blue, and it would be completely dark soon. I glanced nervously back to the truck that was parked at the end of the service road.
“Don’t worry.” Danny clicked on his head lamp. “I’ve got a backup flashlight and everything.”
I put my hand in his and let him lead me along the base of the mountain. He’d made me wear a pair of snow boots that he’d found in a closet, ones that had more traction than the flimsy boots I’d brought. They were an older style—his mom’s, I assumed, but didn’t ask.
This old ski hill obviously wasn’t professionally maintained, but it was a destination for people like Danny—men and women who did backcountry terrain.
He said the local government did their best to dissuade people from coming up here, but there were a number of other tracks showing they weren’t doing too great of a job.
After following him for a little while, we ended up at a lodge. The entire thing was made of giant logs, with a massive wraparound deck facing the mountain. He led me up the steps that were slick with packed-down snow. The front door had fallen completely off its hinges, hanging to the side.
The sky was still bright enough that I could make out the interior.
Wood panels ended in an arched ceiling, and deer heads still hung on the wall.
A surprising amount of furniture had been left behind, tables and chairs still staged like the resort was just waiting to be opened for another season.
Like someone left them behind not knowing the place would be shut down.
“This is the old lodge. Been abandoned for over twenty years now.”
“Wow,” I breathed, taking it in. I swiped my gloved hand over the windowsill, inspecting the layer of dust before wiping it off on the snowpants Danny had given me.
“Seeing this in its prime was probably a sight,” I said, thinking about how stunning the views must have been, staring out these huge windows at all the people barreling down the hill.
He nodded. “Simpler times, from what I remember. No one was recording on their smart phones. They were just here for memories.”
“Sounds nice, not having a device in my pocket at all times that connects me to everyone,” I joked. I hadn’t even bothered to bring my phone tonight. I’d almost grown used to it just sitting silently in a drawer.
“It’s kind of like you’ve been pretending your real life doesn’t exist,” he said, watching me as I walked around the room, weaving between chairs and tables.
I tipped my head back and groaned. “Is it bad that I’ve been loving pretending my life doesn’t exist?”
He was quiet for a moment, staring at me. “It’s your life, Trace.”
“Tell that to my mother,” I said with a snort. “She’s horrified that I’m here right now. She’s probably trying to convince my label she’s me, so she can sign any contracts they offer in my absence.”
“She’s too hard on you,” he said simply.
“She always has been.” Funny. Danny was the only person I felt like I could say that to.
He was quiet for a moment, staring out the giant window which had cracks spidering the length of it. “Just because you think you got your dream, doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to change your mind.”
“I feel so unappreciative, though. I think about all of those nights in bars where no one knew who I was, and all of those posts to social media with me and a guitar, praying on everything that I might go viral…I wanted it so badly. It was all I could think about. Now that I have it, I shouldn’t be feeling this way. ”
“But is it on your terms?” he asked.
Damnit.
Danny had this way of saying the simplest things in ways that turned my world upside down. He saw me so easily—the person I really was, not the person I pretended to be. He made hiding impossible.
“I mean, I thought so at first. I was so happy that people wanted to work with me that I let them talk me into anything. I said no to nothing. But now, it feels like I can’t get away. I’ve turned myself into a yes man who they expect to grin, suck it up, and always bear it.”
“Fuck them,” Danny said, stepping closer so he could stare down at me. “You’ve given them your first album. You’re about to give them their tour. Then you can leave. Be done with them.”
“It’s not that easy.” I gnawed at my lower lip. “If I turn them down, I’ll probably be snubbed by most of the other big labels. They’re all connected.”
“So, go smaller. Go independent. Who cares? It’s not worth going this route if you’re miserable.”
These were all the thoughts I constantly pushed to the back of my brain, but Danny didn’t let me run from things.
“You know, talking with you—being here this week—it’s the first time I’ve felt like maybe I can do all that. Maybe I am brave enough to say no and do something on my own.”
My obligations were done after this tour. My mom had been fighting tooth and nail to get me a new contract, but…
But maybe I’d just blow it all up. Start fresh. Just the thought made me feel like I could breathe again.
He placed a finger underneath my chin and brushed my jaw lightly with his thumb.
“Trace, you’re special. I hate that they’re trying to take that shine out of your eyes.
Seeing you turn up at my doorstep was the best night of my life, but it also gutted me.
I hadn’t seen hurt like that in your eyes since… ”
His voice trailed off.
“Since you put it there?” I finished, meeting his gaze.
He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand along his tense jaw. “Fuck. I hate that I did that to you. I hate that it’s immortalized forever. I’ve regretted it every day since I left you. But it’s hard for me. I don’t know how to be the guy that you need.”
“You already are.”
He took a step back, stalking across to the window and staring out it.
“No, not really. I’m the guy who puts himself first. Who ignores my terrified family when they just want me to be safe.
Who pushes you away, because I’m a damn coward.
You deserve someone who would never do anything to hurt you. ”
I walked over to him and stood in front of him, forcing him to see me.
“You living your life and pursuing your dreams is not the same as you setting out to hurt me, okay? There’s a difference.
I mean, do I wish I could bubble-wrap you?
Kind of. But then you wouldn’t be you. The guy who I fell for.
The guy who’s unafraid and wants an adventure.
Who truly lives like this is his only shot. ”
He carefully tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I saw what it did to my mom,” he whispered. “I can’t put someone through that.”
“I’m already in this, Danny. I fell for you.
Hard. When you told me you refused to try, it broke me a little.
Now, after spending all this time with you, I can’t just turn off how I feel.
These are take-your-breath-away, once-in-a-lifetime kind of feelings.
The worst thing you could do to me would be to leave me to only wonder what it would be like to be with you. ”
“I wish I could believe that was true.” He squeezed his eyes shut.
“But it doesn’t matter whether I believe it or not.
At this point, I can’t let you go, Trace.
I’m in deep, too. You might think I’m strong and unafraid, but I’m scared shitless of losing you.
I tried to let you go already. But thinking about your life…
about you moving on, finding someone else…
I’m probably a selfish bastard because that’s what finally got me to call you.
Some picture online of you and another musician. ”
My brow furrowed as my brain scrolled through every picture of me I could think of that had ended up online. “Who? John Berkley?”
“I don’t remember who the fucker was. I just remember seeing his hand on your waist and I knew I was done for. I almost booked a flight to you immediately, but then I realized I didn’t know where you were. And I hated that.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. Stupid, jealous, perfect man. “We were writing a song together,” I said.
He gave a jerky nod. “That’s what the article said. But there was no calming my brain once I had the thought.”
I sighed and wrapped my arms around him, settling into his chest.
It was hard to move on after a great love, but from my limited experience, it was even more impossible to move on from a great “what if.” There were all these possibilities and promises of an amazing love story whirling around in front of you, making you so deliriously happy you could drown in the feeling.
And then the promises got snatched away, right out from under your feet, and you were falling fast.
It was impossible to move on. Every moment with someone else, you’d be comparing it to what could have been. The potential of the unknown.
That’s what Danny was for me. The big “what if.” The biggest what if.
I could never just let it go.
Later that night, back at the cabin, we started a fire in the bedroom and curled up around each other. And we talked. About his life. About my life. About our mothers.
It felt like we were a part of something. A team. Like I could face anything with his support. Like we both made each other stronger. And that I made him softer, in a good way.
It was blissful.
Pretty soon I’d have to turn my phone back on and face reality, but I knew that with him by my side, I could do it.