10. Jaxon
CHAPTER TEN
Jaxon
The cabin was quiet, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to snap.
We’d been here for a night already, and yet it felt like we were still in the eye of a storm. Lila was still here, still within arm’s reach, and the ache in my chest hadn’t gone away.
It had only grown worse.
I had spent the last few hours watching her, every glance, every laugh, each one only deepening the frustration gnawing at me.
Colt was already sprawled on the couch, grinning like an idiot ready to go in his ski gear, while Ryan moved around the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast with that quiet, steady presence that made my blood boil in a different way.
It was like they were both claiming little pieces of her, and I hated myself for not being able to stop it.
But I knew I couldn’t.
Loyalty to Nate.
That was the only thing that kept me from stepping in and making sure she knew where I stood… knew what I felt.
But that would mean crossing a line I didn’t want to cross, especially with Nate just a cabin away. So, I kept my distance and buried it all beneath a wall of cold professionalism.
The night before had been brutal. I’d tried to sleep on the couch, but it felt like the tension in the room was too much for me to escape.
Every time I closed my eyes, I’d hear her laughter, the way her voice softened when she spoke to Colt or Ryan. I wasn’t sure if she was aware of it, but it hurt.
Watching her slip so easily into this little bubble of friendship with them only made me feel like an outsider.
I shouldn’t be an outsider.
Not with the connection we’d had on that plane.
And damn it, I knew she felt it too.
The sound of the front door opening broke my reverie. I didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. Nate’s heavy boots against the porch steps were unmistakable.
The tension in the room tightened, like a string pulled too taut.
“You guys still sitting around?” Nate’s voice rang out. “It’s time to go, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah, come on.” Colt jumped up. “Let’s get out there before the snow gets slushy!”
I followed Colt’s lead, reluctantly gathering my jacket and gloves. I glanced at Lila again, and her eyes met mine for a brief, heated second. It was like the world stopped.
She was there, and so was I, stuck in the same room with a dozen unspoken words hanging between us.
But this was no time to unravel it.
At the lift, we all grabbed our skis, and I felt the familiar thrill of the slopes begin to take over, pushing aside the chaos in my head. But Lila, standing next to me as we waited for the chairlift, was a different story.
She was nervous, I could tell.
Her hands kept shifting on her poles, and she kept glancing down the slope, as though unsure of herself.
“You good?” I asked, my voice low, knowing it would be lost in the noise of the other skiers if she didn’t hear it.
Lila blinked, startled at my question. Her lips parted for a moment, like she was about to say something, but then she closed them again, nodding quickly.
“Yeah, just not sure I’m ready for these runs,” she admitted.
I chuckled, unable to help myself. “We’ll go easy on you. Don’t worry.”
Her eyes flicked to me, and I saw that hint of vulnerability she usually tried so hard to hide. But for a split second, she let it slip.
She didn’t even know how beautiful she looked in that moment. It made the ache in my chest burn even harder.
The chairlift came, and we all loaded up. I found myself seated next to Lila, the space between us no longer an easy distance. Her leg brushed against mine, and I held my breath, trying not to let the touch send my pulse into overdrive.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and thick with everything we hadn’t said.
Then, almost too casually, Lila broke it.
“Why were you teasing me last night?” Her voice was soft, but it held a sharp edge, like she was looking for something more.
I blinked at her, surprised by the question. My pulse sped up, my chest tightening.
She wasn’t just asking out of curiosity—there was something more in her eyes. That spark. A challenge, maybe. Or was she waiting for me to admit something?
“Teasing you?” I repeated. “I wasn’t teasing.”
“Don’t lie,” she shot back with a raised eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. But there was something else in her gaze, something I couldn’t quite place. “You were talking about the Mile-High Club. It felt like you were… trying to get under my skin.”
I could feel the heat rising in my chest, and my hands clenched around the ski poles.
I was on the edge, teetering between saying something, doing something that would break the fragile control I’d been holding onto.
“I wasn’t trying to get under your skin,” I said, my voice lower now. But there was no hiding the tension that clung to each word. “I was just having some fun.”
But I knew she wasn’t buying it.
Not fully.
She knew what I meant.
She leaned in slightly, her breath warm against my ear, and her next words came in a near whisper.
“Were you?”
That was it.
That single question shattered whatever fragile distance we had left. Her lips were so close to mine, her scent overwhelming.
My heart slammed against my ribs, and my mind screamed at me to pull back, to stay away—but I didn’t.
I didn’t pull away.
Instead, I let the storm inside me rage, everything in me wanting nothing more than to close that final inch between us.
My breath came faster, heavier, as I turned my head just slightly, enough to feel the rush of her presence, the intoxicating pull of it.
I could taste the tension between us.
Her lips, they were so close.
My body hummed with the need to touch her, kiss her, claim that moment we’d been dancing around since that damn plane ride.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Instead, I leaned back, forcing my voice to steady itself.
“You’re right,” I said, the words barely a whisper. “I was.”
I could see her pulse quicken, her breath hitching as she glanced up at me, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
But I couldn’t read her. Not fully.
She wanted me to cross the line; I could feel it in the way she was looking at me. But that would be a mistake. A dangerous one.
The chairlift jolted, and for a split second, I thought I was going to lose control. But the moment passed, and I let out a slow breath, focusing on the slopes ahead.
“I’m not gonna play games with you, Lila,” I said, my tone low and firm, but there was still an edge of heat in it.
“Then stop teasing me,” she said softly, her voice shaking as she looked away, her eyes falling to the snow below us.
I didn’t answer.
The words I wanted to say were stuck in my throat—things I couldn’t afford to say. Not yet. Not when the weight of everything between us felt so heavy.
* * *
Skiing was supposed to be a release.
The crisp mountain air, the snow underfoot, and the promise of adrenaline as we flew down the trails should’ve been enough to clear my head.
But all it did was magnify everything.
This day was impossible, and everything seemed to be making it worse.
Especially him .
I couldn’t stop watching Colt.
Every time he was near Lila, cracking some joke or flashing that cocky grin of his, it lit a fire in my chest that no amount of snow could extinguish.
He was relentless.
And she was eating it up.
Not that I blamed her.
Colt had that easy charm that made people want to be around him. But it didn’t make it any less infuriating to watch.
By midday, the group had split up, everyone scattering across the slopes to take on different trails.
Nate had taken off with a few friends, Lila had gone back to the lodge for a break, and Ryan was helping some kid fix a binding on his snowboard.
It was just me and Colt, standing at the top of the hill, the view of the valley stretching out beneath us.
It was the first time we’d been alone since this whole mess started, and the tension between us was thick enough to cut.
“You’ve been real quiet today, Jaxon,” Colt said as he adjusted his goggles. His voice had that familiar teasing edge, but there was an undercurrent of something sharper. “Something on your mind?”
I strapped my boots into my board, refusing to look at him. “Not really.”
“Yeah? Funny, ‘cause you’ve been looking at me like you want to throw me off the mountain. And this isn’t the first time I’ve felt you looking at me that way.”
I tightened the strap on my boot, finally meeting his gaze. “Maybe I do.”
Colt’s grin widened, like he was enjoying this way too much. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little competition?”
That did it.
I stood up, the snowboard digging into the snow beneath me.
“This isn’t a game, Colt.”
“Isn’t it?” He tilted his head, his grin softening into something more serious. “Because it sure feels like you’re keeping score.”
“You’re damn right I’m keeping score,” I snapped, my voice low but sharp. “I see what you’re doing, with the jokes and the flirting. You’re trying to get under my skin.”
“Get under your skin?” Colt laughed, but it wasn’t his usual easy laugh. It was sharp, almost bitter. “Jaxon, you’ve been walking around like you’ve got some claim on her. Newsflash: Lila’s not yours.”
The words hit me harder than I expected, but I refused to back down. “And she’s not yours, either.”
Colt shrugged, his tone maddeningly casual. “Never said she was. But at least I’m not pretending I don’t want her.”
I clenched my fists, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “You think this is funny? Playing games with her?”
He stepped closer, his snowboard crunching against the snow. “No, I don’t. But I also don’t think it’s fair for you to act like you’re above it all when you’re just as into her as I am.”
My jaw tightened, the truth of his words cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. “This isn’t about me.”
“Isn’t it?” Colt’s voice dropped, his tone more serious now. “Look, I get it. She’s Nate’s sister. You’ve got your whole ‘loyalty to the brotherhood’ thing going on. But don’t stand there and act like you don’t want her, because we both know that’s a lie.”
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
Because he was right. I did want her—more than I’d ever wanted anyone. But admitting that felt like crossing a line I couldn’t uncross.
Especially since I’d already crossed that line once.
Colt shook his head, his frustration evident. “You know what your problem is, Jaxon? You’re so busy trying to do the ‘right’ thing that you’re gonna lose her. And when that happens, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”
Before I could respond, he turned and strapped into his board, his movements sharp and deliberate.
“I’m heading down. You can stand up here and brood all you want, but I’m not wasting my day.”
He pushed off, carving through the snow with effortless precision.
I stood there, watching him disappear down the slope, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy blanket.
He was right about one thing. I was going to lose her.
But not because I didn’t want her. Because I was too much of a coward to admit it.