Chapter 20 #2
hadn’t been stopped, would he have kept going? The thought alone makes my toes curl and I slide my own hand up my thigh the
way he did to me, just to feel the sensation of it again. I close my eyes, imagining it’s him until I get to the same place
where he stopped. I can’t do this to the thought of Asher, I just can’t.
Instead I get up to join Dani and Annica for the movie, telling them Asher fell asleep early. Annica gives Dani a look when
I say it, as if there’s an inside joke that I’m not aware of. But that’s not true, of course. I am so painfully aware of the
joke. I am the joke.
That familiar scent of cinnamon and pine fills the room and I know without opening my eyes that Asher is back.
I feel the bed move as he climbs in beside me, but my eyes are still heavy with sleep and the way he so carefully moves tells me it’s probably still the middle of the night.
So I let myself doze off again, savoring the warmth. I might even scoot a little closer.
When I start to wake on Saturday morning, I can feel his skin on mine and the way his chest rises and falls in his sleep.
Somewhere in the night we’ve become almost chest to chest with his arm draped over me. I start to stir and he does too, his
hand running down my side. It makes me wonder if he knows it’s me beside him. Perhaps he thinks I’m Brandy. I don’t wait around
to find out as I get out of the bed, careful not to wake him.
A stream of light comes through the shades as I dress for the day. The boys are planning on going back to the resort for more
snowboarding while Annica, Dani, and I go to the spa and shops. Tonight we have some nice dinner planned here at the house
with the whole McCavern family. I grab the book I brought with me, intent on reading in front of one of the large windows
with the view of the mountains, but when I come downstairs, I find I’m not alone. There’s an elderly man with a cane sitting
in a leather recliner by the fireplace. Asher and Wesley’s grandfather. I almost pivot and go back upstairs but he turns to
look at me.
“Charlotte?” he calls out to me, and I know that’s one of Wes’s older sisters. I continue down the stairs until I’m in view.
“My name is Sloane,” I say, walking closer to him. “I’m Asher’s . . . friend.”
The old man looks me up and down, not in the creepy way men do, but in an eyes-narrowed, assessing way.
“Hm,” he says. “I hope my grandson treats you well.” He looks to be in his late seventies if I had to guess.
Gray hair, but he still has a lot of it.
And the same green eyes both of his grandsons inherited.
I smile, thinking of the way Wes comforted me on the flight here. “He does.”
“There’s a fresh pot of coffee on the counter if you want any.” He waves a hand toward the kitchen.
I notice he doesn’t have a cup. “Would you like some coffee too?” I offer.
“I would, though I’m not supposed to have the stuff these days . . . but I’m sure a little won’t hurt.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” I smile at him and his lips turn up in return.
He points a frail finger at me. “I like you.”
I pour us each a cup of coffee, mine with vanilla creamer and his with a splash of milk and two sugars, and sit in front of
the fireplace with him while we drink it. I’m not usually nervous around strangers; in fact, I find that I’m pretty personable
with most people. There’s just something intimidating about being alone with the patriarch of the McCavern family. The man
responsible for generating all of their wealth. I almost feel like I should start taking notes, write down everything he says.
He asks how I like the resort and I admit to him that it’s been great but I don’t know how to ski or snowboard. He says surely
Asher must have taken the time yesterday to show me—after all, he used to teach lessons here when he was a teenager—but I
didn’t have the heart to tell him that the moment we stepped outside I didn’t see Asher again for almost five hours. Not to
mention wherever he goes at night.
Asher eventually comes down the stairs and joins us by the fireplace.
“Are you talking Sloane’s ear off, Grandpa?”
“She was nice enough to come down here and sit with me,” his grandpa says. “Lord knows my grandkids don’t visit anymore.”
“I literally live here with you when I’m not at school,” Asher says, and that’s news to me. Clearly I missed a few topics
when I questioned him. “What’s on your agenda for today, old man?”
“Preparing for tonight’s dinner and driving Elaine crazy,” he says. Assuming Elaine is the live-in nurse.
“Well, don’t do that, or one of these days she might poison your meds,” Asher jokes.
“If only,” his grandfather says back. “Hey.” He grabs onto Asher’s hand with his own weathered pair and says, “This one’s
a keeper, so don’t fuck it up.”
We both laugh, and I feel bad lying to their grandfather. “I’ll try not to,” Asher says.
“And teach the poor girl how to ski before you leave, would you?”
Asher looks over at me, then back to his grandpa. “I’m trying,” he lies. “She’s a slow learner.” I just shake my head. “Well,
Sawyer, go get your tight little snowsuit on. It’s early, so not a lot of people will be over there yet.”
“What, now?” He has to know I had plans today with the girls.
“Yes, now. You’ll be back by noon for the spa.” He gives me a look that says do it for my grandpa or I won’t hear the end of it.
I look between him and his grandpa and give a smile before getting up. “It was nice talking with you,” I say. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He gives me a smile and I turn to go back to the room and put on that monstrosity of a snowsuit.
The sun is bright this morning and the fresh snow glistens as Asher and I head out to the slopes.
“Did you have fun with Brandy last night?” I ask him.
“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” he says, looking down at me.
I look away. “Not really.” I follow him as we walk past the bunny hills, toward the lifts. “Wait, where are we going? The
bunny hills are over there.”
“I know, but you practiced on those yesterday.”
“And it didn’t go well. I don’t think I’m ready for a bigger hill.”
“You’ll be fine.”
We get on a lift, and as it takes us up, up, up, my hands start to shake at the thought of going down one of these hills.
I distract myself with the vast beauty of the empty mountain and the way the sunlight makes it glow.
“You probably shouldn’t have talked to my grandfather,” Asher says as we make our way to the top.
“Why? I was just trying to be nice.”
“Because when our fake relationship is over he’ll just be disappointed in me for dropping the ball.”
I don’t have any snarky remarks for that. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t say anything else as he helps me off the lift and we’re
at the top of a very steep hill. “Oh my god, Asher, no.”
“It’s a blue square; it’s intermediate.”
“What makes you think I’m an intermediate skier on literally day two?”
“Because on day two you’re with me.” I half think he’s going to set me up and give me a hard push down the mountain to see how it goes, but he stands in front of me.
“Okay, show me what Jacques taught you yesterday.” I stand with my feet hip-width apart and bend my knees slightly.
“Okay, not terrible.” He adjusts me slightly. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Perfect.” He puts my goggles down over my eyes and grabs my hands, pulling me to the edge. “Bend your knees. We’re going
to go down with me in front of you and you can practice just sliding and breaking. Did you learn that yesterday?”
“More like sliding and breaking my legs,” I mutter. But he takes my hands, which are gripped around the poles, as we start
down the hill.
“Bend your legs more,” he says. I do and immediately lose my balance, falling on my ass. He continues to slide backward until
he motions his skis into a backward V shape and comes to a halt. “This is going to be a long morning.”
“This was your idea,” I grumble, getting back up. He gets in front of me again, holding on to me as we slide down the mountain
a little farther, him keeping his skis in that V motion and using his arms to hold me out in front of him, keeping us from
going at a fast pace.
“Okay, I’m going to let go of your hands and you’re going to balance,” he says.
He lets go and I use the poles and my weight to balance like Jacques taught us yesterday, but I pick up too much speed and crash into Asher.
He holds on to me as he tries to bring us to a stop, but I lose my balance, once again landing on my ass as he lets go of me and moves out of the way.
“It’s okay, get up.” We still have a long way to go to get down this hill.
After about five more times of falling and one time bringing him down with me, both of our patience is wearing thin.
“Okay, there you go,” he says. “You’re doing it!” This is the longest I’ve been able to stay upright, and Asher takes his
skis out of the V formation to slide down backward ahead of me before turning to slide down next to me, and I realize there
is nothing in front of me to slow me down now if I need it.
“Whoa.” I start to pick up speed. “Okay, I want to slow down.”
“Pizza,” he says from beside me.
“Pizza?” I’m confused and panicking.
“Put the skis in a V, like a pizza!” He goes to show me the motion and I’ve been watching his backward V form all morning
and it’s the first thing that comes to mind, but that only sends me flying backward and spinning down the mountain. When I
stop moving I lie in the snow, staring up at the sky, trying to catch my breath. My entire backside hurts from falling on
it today and yesterday. Asher stops beside me and sighs. “I said pizza.”
“I heard you.”
“Then why didn’t you do it?”
“Because this is my second time ever skiing and I don’t know what I’m doing.” I stay on the ground, afraid that if I get up
I’ll have to start again. My thighs are burning, and my feet are throbbing.
“If you would just listen to what I’m telling you to do, this would get done quicker. You’re hardheaded and you never listen,”
he says, and it makes me feel like he’s talking about more than just skiing.
I sit up. “I never listen? You’re the one who is constantly pushing me into things I don’t want to do, even when I say no.”
“Because I’m trying to help you!”
“Help me? No, you’re trying to help you! And you’re so mean.”
“Mean? What is this, third grade?”
“You are the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. I don’t know why we’re doing this at all. I never wanted this,” I yell back.
“And you think I did?” he yells back at me, and now we’re definitely not talking about skiing.
“It was your idea!” He doesn’t say anything back. “I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore.” I look down, realizing we’re
only halfway down this damn mountain.
“Don’t want to do what anymore?” he asks.
I bite the inside of my cheeks.
“Just . . . help me get down the rest of the way so I can go to the spa.” I sigh. He helps me up and I get back into position
as he holds on to me the remainder of the way down. This time we manage to stay upright the entire time.
“Be ready for dinner by five,” Asher says to me before walking back into the resort, leaving me standing out here alone.
“That was nice of him to take you out for lessons,” Dani says when the three of us are lying face down on three massage tables.
“Yeah, a real gentleman,” I sarcastically mumble with my face in the small hole of the table. I needed this after today and
yesterday. If it wasn’t $200 an hour I’d book five more hours.
“We heard you talked to Vernon this morning,” Annica chimes in.
Vernon? Was that someone at the resort? “Who?”
“Asher and Wesley’s grandpa,” Dani clarifies.
“Oh, yeah, we had coffee together.”
“We heard: That’s all he talked about this morning,” Annica says.
“I think he likes me,” I say.
“Asher has something good going for him, then.”
I think about Asher’s comment on the lift this morning, about disappointing his grandpa. I should’ve asked, so instead I ask
Annica. “What do you mean?”
She scoffs in that snarky way she does when she can’t believe we don’t know something that she knows. “Has he not said anything
to you about his dad? They had to, like, cut him off because he lost half a million of the resort money gambling. Now their
grandpa pays for Asher’s school and stuff and is apparently really hard on him. Worried he’ll be like his dad. I don’t blame
him either—I’m sure he will be.”
“He’s not,” I snap back. I don’t even know why I feel the need to defend him when he’s been nothing but rude to me for four
years now, but I do.
“Isn’t he? I mean, where do you think he’s going every night? Yeah, our bathroom window faces the driveway. I saw him leave
the past two nights and not come back.”
My face grows red from under the table. “He’s doing business at the resort.” And I feel so stupid for having to give that
as an answer when we all know what he’s really doing.
“Is that what he’s telling you? He’s lying to you, Sloane. He can’t be trusted.”
Deep down I know Annica is looking out for me, that she’s trying to warn me that the man she thinks I’m seeing is not being honest with me, and in any other situation I’d be grateful. But we aren’t a couple, I know exactly what he’s up to, and I can’t do anything but defend him.
“I trust him,” I say, and leave it at that.
The masseuse moves around the table and adjusts the towel to massage my neck. That’s when something star-shaped falls from
her pocket.
“Oh, you dropped something,” I tell her. But when I get a better look I realize it’s dollar bills crafted into a star. Like
the money origami Miles used to do when he left me tips at Cantine.
“Whoops, fell out of my pocket,” the girl says. “Sorry about that.”
“Did you make that?” I ask.
“A customer this morning left it as a tip. He said he couldn’t make a snowflake so a star would have to do. I thought it was
cute either way.”
I sit up. “Who was the customer? What was his name?”
“Um, sorry, but I can’t give out that information. Can you lie back down so we can continue, please?”
“I’m getting lightheaded actually. I’m going to go.” I get up from the table and rush out of there before my friends can protest.