Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
STERLING
“Look man, I’m going to have to cut you off,” the bartender says, his rag pausing mid-swipe on the counter. His voice is calm, and it pisses me right the hell off.
“For what fuckin’ reason?” I growl, gripping my glass like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. “I’m fine.”
He quirks a brow, unimpressed. “Look, I don’t know how you’re able to even string together more than two words right now, but if you keep this up, you’ll drink yourself to death.”
I scoff, the sound bitter in my throat. “Death would be a mercy.”
“You always were the dramatic type,” a familiar voice cuts in from behind me.
The stool next to me scrapes as someone sits down. I turn, blinking against the dim bar light, only to find Colton fuckin’ Harrison sitting there—snow still melting into his messy hair, jacket damp from the storm outside.
He’s one of the surfers on the Saltwater Shredders, but to me, he’ll always be the kid I used to play basketball with after school, before he packed up and left town on a surfing scholarship.
Whenever he’d come back to town to visit his family, we’d catch a game together for old times’ sake and he’d always drop Saltwater Springs into conversations, nudging me to consider moving there when I didn’t know where the hell I belonged.
By the time I made the move, he’d already left the team, but he hadn’t been wrong.
Gabriel, the team coach, had scooped me up into his orbit without hesitation.
Colton waves the bartender over, orders a beer, and then slouches comfortably against the bar.
“The fuck are you doing here?” I finally manage once my jaw finds its way off the floor. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Hawaii with the rest of the team? Don’t tell me you’re re-joining the Rip Raiders.”
Just over a year ago, Colton had run off from the Saltwater Shredders and joined the local surf team, the Rip Raiders. I don’t know why he did that, considering how shit that team is, but he’s back with the Shredders now, where he belongs.
“You couldn’t pay me enough to join those rich fucks again.” He snorts, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a long drink. “Nah. Gabriel gave me the week off to come visit my parents. My sister’s in town too.”
I arch a brow. “Your Hollywood-loving, popstar sister?”
“The one and only. World’s most beloved singer, and she’ll never let you forget it.” His laugh is dry, but his eyes are warm. He takes another pull of beer. “Anyway, what’s got you holed up in this shit bar, talking about dying? Thought you’d be somewhere hot, soaking in the break from work.”
If I were sober, I’d keep my mouth shut. Not because I don’t trust Colton, but because I hate spilling my problems on anyone.
Instead, I knock my knuckles against the bar and mutter, “I’ve been teaching Maisy how to snowboard up at Levi’s resort.”
Colton stills mid-drink. “Maisy?” His brows shoot up. “Olympic Skier Maisy? As in your ex? The one who sent you running from this place?”
“Alright, first of all,” I clear my throat, glaring at him, “I didn’t run. I just didn’t have anything worth staying for.”
“Ouch.”
“Oh, fuck off. Everyone knew you’d go back to the Shredders someday. You were never going to stay with this town’s bozo surf team forever.”
“True,” he admits, tipping his bottle toward me like it’s a toast. “But answer me this—why are you the one teaching her? Levi couldn’t find anyone else? Seems cruel of him to pair you two up.”
“I’m the only one he trusts not to make a move on his sister.”
Colton pauses, studying me for a moment, then his lips twist into a smirk. “Let me guess. You made a move on his sister.”
I groan, dragging a hand through my curls, frustration knotting in my chest. Even drunk, guilt for breaking Levi’s trust coils tight in my gut.
“That, and she finally told me the real reason she left me,” I mutter, wishing the bartender would take the hint and slide me one last drink.
Colton’s expression sharpens. “Which is?”
“Well not only does she blame me for the accident, but apparently she fell out of love with me too.”
“You’re fucking shitting me.” His bottle slams down on the counter. He swivels toward me fully, eyes blazing. “You don’t actually believe that, right?”
I laugh, humorless and hollow. “Doesn’t matter what I believe, Colt. It’s what she believes.”
“Come on. There’s no way in hell Maisy actually meant that.”
I frown, staring hard at him. “What do you mean?”
He leans in, voice lower. “You know Maisy. She’s always used words like a weapon. She’ll cut you deep just to build her wall higher. I think she said the one thing that she knew would wreck you—because if it hurt bad enough, you’d run again.”
“I told you, I didn’t run,” I growl.
Colton tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “And yet you’re here drinking the night away instead of talking this out with her, aren’t you?”
The truth hits me like a slap.
I study him, wondering how the hell he’s so damn good at reading people. “You should’ve been a therapist,” I mutter, shoving a fifty onto the counter and pushing to my feet.
He barks a laugh. “I’ll stick to surfing.”
Outside, snowflakes swirl under the yellow glow of the streetlights. Colton shoulders my weight when I stumble, staying with me until a cab pulls up.
“I’ll see you in a couple weeks, bud. Don’t let me catch you back in that bar while I’m here.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, sliding into the cab. His chuckle follows me, fading as the door shuts.
He’s right, though. Leaving Maisy behind when the ski patrol showed up was just another way of running. I should’ve stayed. I should've made sure she went to the medic myself. Should’ve made sure she wasn’t injured. Should’ve seen through the words she used to push me away.
But I didn’t.
I was too wrapped up in how her words made me feel. Too focused on my own pain. And maybe that’s always been the problem.
By the time the cab winds up the mountain road and stops in front of the chalet, it’s past midnight.
I tap my card against the payment terminal, stagger out into the biting cold, and fix my blurry eyes on the front door that feels a mile away.
Each step is clumsy and heavy, but I finally shove it open, only to collapse face first on the welcome mat inside.
“Sterling,” Maisy gasps, bolting off the couch. She kneels beside me, eyes wide, voice panicked. “Are you okay?”
“I am now that you’re here.” I smirk with my eyes closed.
“You’re drunk.”
It’s not a question.
She hooks my arm over her shoulder, kicks the door shut behind us, and half-carries me down the hall. The world sways, but she steadies me, stubborn as ever.
“I know what you did earlier,” I rasp when my bedroom door comes into sight.
Her grip tightens. “What did I do?”
“You fed me some bullshit.”
She glances up, brow furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
A crooked smirk tugs at my lips as I fix my gaze on the door ahead. “I don’t believe you blame me for the accident, and I don’t believe you ever fell out of love with me. I think you did what you always do when you’re scared—push me away.”
She stops walking, the air between us stilling. I brace for her sharp words, the argument that always comes next, but she stays quiet.
“What, you’re not going to fight me on it? Try to prove me wro—”
“You’re right.” The words punch the breath out of me. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m starting to feel like you’ll never tell me the real reason you left,” I whisper moments later, finally looking down at her.
She keeps her eyes on the floor, sadness dimming the spark in them. “Maybe, maybe not. It wouldn’t change anything.”
“It’d give me closure, Mais.” My laugh is hollow. “I’m still hung up on you because I can’t stop trying to figure out what I did to lose you.”
“You didn’t do anything.” She finally meets my gaze, her eyes glassy.
“Yeah, well…maybe that’s the problem.”
She exhales, the sound shaky, and starts walking again. “Let’s get you to bed. This isn’t a conversation for tonight.”