Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Two months later…
“I’m lost.”
It needs to be said out loud. The situation is too ludicrous not to be shared.
So farfetched, you would think it was a movie instead of real life.
Scrappy social studies teacher leaves city to visit mountain resort for stupid reasons.
Accidentally freezes to death and probably won’t get paid.
A play within a play within a ski lodge.
If I survive this, Bex is really going to owe me.
“The movie will be an instant classic though,” I say, shivering as I shamble through the snow like a one-legged zombie. “They’ll call it Skinny Winnie and the Ski Lodge Mistake . Or maybe Secrets, Spies and Stupidity . Timothée Chalamet can play the lead. Tom Holland, if I’m lucky.”
I’m not that lucky.
I know this because I’m currently a limping cautionary tale of what can happen when you get tangled up in other people’s problems. I should never have agreed to this.
It’s a long story. But the next time I go for a walk to rethink my friend’s plan, it won’t be in a fancy topiary garden.
Seriously, the artistically shaped bushes had a creepy The Shining vibe that made me stupidly head for the tree line while I debated my next move.
I hadn’t been ready to go back to the lodge yet, and by the time I realized my mistake, it was too late.
Never head for the trees is my new motto.
I’m not used to walking through a world without recognizable markers and street signs. Without sidewalks and corner stores filled with impatient, occasionally helpful people who could point me in the right direction. So I panicked a little.
After trying to call Connor at the lodge and realizing I’d forgotten to charge my phone last night? I panicked a lot.
So, that’s where I’m at. Limping on a twisted ankle—don’t ask—with a dead phone and no idea how to find my way back. Because of creepy topiary.
It’s snowing so hard I couldn’t find my hand right now unless it slapped me in the face.
Is this a blizzard? A white out? I have no idea, but it isn’t like the sporadic snow we had back home this winter, or the barely-there layer that was already on the ground when we arrived.
It sure as hell isn’t the magical flurries that show up at the end of every winter romcom to someone’s delighted cry of “Oh look, it’s snowing because love! ”
This is not love snow. Instead, heavy flakes mixed with small ice bombs stick to everything like frozen burs, and this new and exciting temperature drop has me worrying about all kinds of things. Like hypothermia and hungry, sleepy bears who might be looking for a snack.
Worry about the fact that no one is looking for you because they don’t even know you’re gone.
I sag against a scruffy pine, it’s branches heavily laden with clumps of ice as I struggle to catch my breath after that mental sucker punch.
The band I’m supposed to sing with hadn’t arrived at the lodge yet, and Connor won’t be looking for me for at least a few hours because he’s too busy enjoying the amenities that were supposed to be mine this weekend.
The ones I bribed him with so I wouldn’t have to come up here by myself.
He's scheduled for a hot stone massage right now. And after that? A facial. I would be enjoying the idea of the rough-and-tumble football coach getting pampered like a princess if I weren’t so damn cold.
I groan, stepping out from under the tree and resuming my death march—maybe we should call it a slog—unwilling to give up on the possibility of finding my way back to civilization.
What I wouldn’t give to be curled up on Val’s couch with Bex again.
To go back in time and tell her, “No, thank you” when she asked me to come here.
Bex never asks for favors. Though after what she’s been through, I’d offer her a kidney or the blood of her enemies if it would make her smile again.
She hasn’t smiled in a while.
I’ve been spending the last two months keeping her company while she recovered, and finishing my college course.
She’s healing physically. Emotionally, I’m not so sure.
But this situation? It got her attention.
Sending me here got her brain working on something other than her injuries.
Even Val wanted me to follow her lead, and he’s been anti-Finn since the night everything went down.
Did I mention that this ski lodge is full of Shawn and Ellen Finn’s family?
That Kate the Calamity and most of her cousins are here celebrating the couple’s anniversary?
They hired me to be the entertainment, which was definitely something I could do.
Bex, however, had asked me to be her spy on the inside… Something I suck at.
Like I said. Long, complicated story.
So far, my sabbatical is a huge fail. Hanging out with that pervy vice principal would be safer than this. Because I’m definitely screwed at the moment. And not in a good way.
On the other hand, there are a few firefighters and police officers at the lodge right now.
All of them attractive and every one of them named Finn.
I take a moment to imagine a gorgeous group of mostly gay rescuers driving up on a snowcat to save the day.
They fall instantly in love with me and become my new harem.
Then they whisk me back to civilization and pamper me for at least a week to help me recover from my trauma.
It's a distracting daydream. But since most of them are blissfully off the relationship market now, I’d be turned off and disappointed in their life choices if one of them did agree to join my sexy harem.
And honestly, experimenting with multiples sounds like a lot more trouble than it’s worth.
A few of the Finns are in committed poly relationships, which just sounds crowded to me.
Not to mention physically demanding. It really seems like it would spoil the mood, having to stop and think about who goes where with what, you know?
Like a bad game of Dirty Jenga or Twister. Like math.
Are you listing the reasons you can’t have a harem right now? That’s not how this works.
Because my brain is a vindictive dick, my rescue fantasy fail is swapped out for a highlight reel of my life flashing in front of my eyes. Laughing with friends. Celebrating with students. Singing on stage.
Meeting that ponytailed, sweet-assed sexy beast at the pub. The one who brought me to my knees in a very literal way.
I guess I’m not too cold to fantasize after all, because my blood starts heating as I think about picking up where we left off mid-hookup.
I didn’t get his name or number because of what happened to Bex that night.
He disappeared somewhere between the screaming and the arrival of the ambulance.
All I know is, by the time I thought to look for him before I drove to the hospital, he was gone.
Maybe he’s a criminal. Or just a mildly insensitive jerk who wanted to get off but not deal with drama.
Either possibility should have been enough to wipe him off my fantasy roster, but he’s still in my head more than I’m comfortable admitting.
In fact, he’s the only one I’ve been thinking about for a while.
I tell myself it’s because I hate leaving things unfinished.
Like good books and trays of brownies. And orgasms. Something neither of us got to have.
But it’s more than that. There was something about him I can’t seem to shake.
The way I felt when he looked at me. The way I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.
You are in actual physical danger, Winnie. Your pathetic love life isn’t important right now.
Now I’m lost and depressed.
A loud crack echoes through the trees and I hop-spin in a jerky half-circle with both hands and one leg lifted up for a fight.
I’m the damn Karate Kid. Instead of looking badass, the fear-fueled maneuver throws me off balance and I fall face first into the nearest tree, scraping my cheek against rough bark. “ Shit.”
You can’t unsee that, can you?
My Skinny Winnie movie is a slapstick tragicomedy instead of a hero’s journey. Raise your hand if you’re surprised.
I hug the tree that so rudely broke my fall and think about my friends again.
Val would have built a shelter by now, and the only thing Connor knows more about than coaching is camping.
Bex could probably MacGyver an emergency beacon from sticks and snow pellets—not that she’d need to, since she never forgets to charge her phone and her boss is always on speed dial.
Or he was, until Bex took a leave of absence from her job and her apartment, asking for space.
I’m sure Tanaka’s checked in with her doctor, but I haven’t seen him again until today, when I caught him whisper-arguing near the front desk with his fiancé Brady.
I tried to listen in, so I could tell Bex I was doing what she asked without having to lie.
But I found myself glaring at him instead of paying attention to what they were saying.
I’ve lowkey hero-worshipped the man for years, but there have been times over these last few weeks when I admit I’ve thought about punching him in the face.
Okay, enough of that. Back to my current emergency.
Out of all of our friends, I’m the only one unprepared to survive something like this.
I’m the musical entertainment, the shoulder to cry on and the only friend to phone when the topic is American history, song lyrics or eighth grade tween problems. Invaluable at social gatherings and emotional interventions. Absolutely hopeless in the wild.