Ride Page 8

  Like a looming storm cloud, he sucks the joy out of everything.

  There’s a moment when everyone’s gone to get their gear on—we’re having a last fun run down the mountain together, right from the top—and he and I are left alone. The others have crowded the board racks, and we hang back until they’ve cleared the space.

  Chase doesn’t look at me, but I can feel the prickle of his presence beside me as if the air between us is electric.

  This is ridiculous. If he’s not saying anything, I will.

  “Is it going to keep being this weird? Do we need to talk about what happened?”

  Chase huffs a nearly voiceless laugh. For a heartbeat his side-cast glance meets mine, that aching blue keeping its secrets.

  “What do you mean?” His voice is a low rumble, indistinct enough not to reach the others. “Nothing happened.”

  Fine. Two can play that game. It’s not like I need anyone to like me.

  I hope that Chase will get better over the next two days, but he doesn’t. If anything he gets worse. Sure, he performs. He can be relied upon to do that. The video camera is filling up nicely with footage, and I can already see it all coming together in my mind. I know the tracks I want to use if the crew agree. I know what cuts I’ll keep, and how I’ll put it all together.

  But everywhere else, Chase is surly. It’s not the occasional exhausted snappiness of Hunter, who’s juggling filming with training for the competitions that begin in the New Year. It’s not Hanne’s hanger every time lunch is late—she always apologizes for that, shamefaced, around her next horse-sized portion of fries.

  Chase’s bad mood is grating, unavoidable, and more or less constant.

  It really kicks off on Tuesday, when the avalanche report comes in.

  The ripple goes around the Faceplant where we’ve come for an after-work beer.

  “Three of them,” JJ says, ashen-faced. “One of them’s just a teenager. Shit.”

  “No one died?” Hanne asks, pushing the boys out of the way of the screen so that she can peer around their looming heights.

  “Not yet,” Hunter grunts. It’s strange to see his usual cockiness gone, replaced with arms folded tight over his chest and a drawn look on his face. “One of them got beat up pretty bad.”

  Chase glances at the screen as he pushes past with a beer. “Mountain’s a bitch and then you die,” he says. He growls, and pushes past hard enough that his beer tips over JJ’s belly.

  “Watch yourself,” JJ snaps, giving his friend a check with the palm of his hand to Chase’s burly shoulder. “What is your fucking problem recently, man?”

  I don’t even think about doing it. When did I start feeling close enough to them to get involved? Well, not them maybe. Not Chase. But I know JJ well enough that I slip my shoulder between them, holding my hands up toward Chase who is looking disturbingly like he’s sizing up his friend.

  “Hey.”

  I flinch at the burn of Chase’s glare. His eyes narrowed, his jaw a rigid line, all that blue is transformed to fire. “This is none of your business,” he snaps. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

  “What the fuck is going on with you?” Hanne is happy to shove where I wasn’t. She pushes her way between us, planting her hands at Chase’s shoulders and forcing him backward. “Your attitude has been shit all week.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my attitude.” But Chase is stepping back, taking a deep breath despite the angry color over his cheeks. “I’m fine. I just take this fucking seriously.”

  And then he’s gone, stalking outside to find a table all of his own and leaving us there.

  Hunter snorts. “He sure can get his panties in a twist, can’t he.”

  Hanne has gone suddenly quiet. Her agreement is only the lowest hum. Over her forehead are little threads of … concern?

  JJ sighs, reaching one hand to scrub through his blond hair. “Shit. D’you think …?”

  What? But he’s looking to Hanne, not to me, and the glance they exchange crackles with unspoken words.

  JJ must find some sort of answer there. He nods though no one has said anything. “I’ll go. You guys grab a table in here. Drink one for me, yeah? I’m going to need it.”

  I keep peeking out, once we’ve found our own table. From my seat I can see the boys out there, occasionally obscured by people. JJ has tucked up close by Chase, and bit by bit Chase relaxes toward him. He’s not sitting how he usually does. This time he’s curled in on himself instead of arrogantly spread in claim of the space about him. He has one elbow on the table in front of him, and now and again he rests his forehead into his upturned palm. I can’t hear the tone of their voices, but I can see it on their faces: strained, occasionally harsh, JJ urging something and Chase arguing back.

  What on earth is this about? It’s not like Chase knew any of the guys in the avalanche. It was over in the next valley. Maybe they took risks? Anyway—we all know the deal. Boarders die. It happens. We wouldn’t be here if we couldn’t deal with a bit of risk. And Chase has been in avalanches. I’ve seen his crash reels. Like most pro snowboarders he has that cocky embrace of risk, the yeah, so what? comeback to the winter’s deadly threat.

  Hanne’s nudge to my elbow brings me back to the real world, where Hunter’s started dealing cards for a game called Asshole and I’m behind on my beer.

  “Brooke.” Hanne’s voice is firm. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just a prick.”

  “I’m not,” I protest.

  “I like you,” Hanne says. “I like you too much for you to get hung up on Chase.”

  I should protest that I’m not hung up on him at all. Instead the words that come out of my mouth are: “But you like Chase, don’t you?”

  Hanne laughs. “As a friend, yeah. I love him to pieces. As anything else …” She sighs.

  Why do I ask it now? It’s been on my mind. But this moment … I guess it’s because when I look out I see that JJ has laid his hand over that tattoo, gripping at Chase’s wrist.

  “What’s the tattoo about? Felicity. Did they have a thing?”

  Hanne’s eyes widen just a fraction. For a moment a word trembles on her lips. “I, uh.” It’s probably not what she wanted to say. I’m on tenterhooks. Hanne still has to fish for words, resettling herself on her seat and taking a mouthful of beer.

  “It’s not my story to tell you,” she says finally. “I don’t think he’d want you to know. Chase is a private person.”

  It’s not personal, he said. When he said he didn’t date. Maybe he just doesn’t date since …

  It’s hard to imagine the girl who could get under all that armor to leave a mark on a man like Chase.

  Why does it feel crushing? It’s stupid. I swallow down the bad taste in the back of my throat and put together a smile. “You’re right. It’s none of my business.”

  Hanne huffs a little sound I can’t quite identify. “Right.” It has the very faintest edge of a question. “I dunno. Maybe in a few years. When you guys are friends.” Her smile is a little rueful but more affectionate. “I think it takes a while for him to trust someone. Since—”

  Hunter breaks off our conversation by abruptly leaning into it, his thigh pressing tighter against mine and his grin suddenly close.

  “Maybe that piece of ass will fix him. She’s not bad, is she? I’d tap that.”

  JJ’s on his way back in. It’s only once he’s back at the table and reassembling his smile that I can see past him to where Chase is in the center of a group of women, his arm casually slung about one of them for a photo. He’s leaning close to her, easy possession in the loop of his arm. His hand is at her hip, edging toward her—

  I down my beer.

  “Jesus,” Hunter remarks with a new respect.

  I shrug. What does any of it matter, anyway? I’m here for work. So what if Chase is just like other guys? It’s not like it’s a surprise. He didn’t catch my eye because of his face, let alone his personality. He caught my eye because he’s my ticke
t to the big time.

  What does it matter if he’s an asshole?

  “Chase is not going to be joining us,” JJ remarks drily. “Anyone else feel like getting hammered?”

  I definitely do.

  10

  I don’t know what Chase does that night, and I don’t care.

  The next morning he arrives late for the shoot. It’s not a big deal. There’s plenty for me to do with the others. Hunter and Hanne are in a playful mood, tossing snowballs at each other between takes while JJ acts as referee. When I do catch sight of Chase boarding down to us I ignore him. It’s none of my business what kept him up late.

  Hunter clearly doesn’t think the same way. He relaxes his guard after fending away one of Hanne’s snowballs, turning a cheeky grin to Chase.

  “Heard you struck out last night. Sorry, man.”

  Chase gives him a look that would make a tree wither. “You can only strike out if you were trying to score.”

  Hunter laughs. “As if you weren’t. I know what you’re like, Austin. You can’t tell me you’re getting sick of easy puss—”

  It’s lucky that Hanne hits Hunter with a fistful of snow. Chase is looking like he might have hit his friend with something else.

  “What?”

  The force of Chase’s snap makes me blink, breaking the stare I didn't really know I had. Not that I want to give him the pleasure of seeing me startle. So what if he didn’t fuck that snowbunny? I don’t care what he does. Who he does. All that matters is that he performs as well on the mountain as he does in bed.

  Not that I give a single shit how Chase Austin performs in bed.

  I pull together a professional smile. “Nothing. Are you ready to shoot?”

  Chase stares at me for a long moment, as Hunter begins to laugh and JJ tells him off for being an ass.

  “I’m always ready,” Chase says.

  We spread out after lunch. The socked-in clouds obscure the sun, making it bad weather for filming. Hanne and JJ have agreed to go spend time with one of the ski schools, anyway. It’s cute seeing them getting mobbed by excited seven-year-olds. Hunter decides to hit the bar, since apparently being constantly buzzed only ups his game.

  Chase? I don’t know and I don’t care.

  I take the lifts as high as I can and check the avalanche forecast before picking one of the harder routes down. It’s relatively empty up here, few snowboarders this afternoon fancying a challenge. Snow has begun to fall, and though we’re far from a whiteout it’s not the best weather.

  It’s beautiful. Maybe it’s not what people want on a postcard. But I love it when it’s like this—when winter softens the world, obscuring its hard edges. When there’s only me alone, the snow rushing under my board like water, all of my body a perfect tool for doing the things that I want. My instrument, and this ride the most beautiful piece of music I’ve ever heard.

  When I’m up here, embraced by the mountains, nothing else matters.

  Eventually I find a place to rest, cutting sideways off-piste to a snow-covered rock. I kick off my board and clamber up so I can enjoy the view. The snow, the clouds, the endless white being eaten by the pines below. It’s so cold I nuzzle my face further into my neck warmer, wrapping my arms about myself.

  I feel so at peace out here. So free.

  “Hey.”

  I almost don’t realize it’s Chase. I’ve never heard him sounding unsure before. There’s a question light at the edge of his voice.

  “I’m aware I seem like a stalker right now.” A tight smile twists at the corner of his mouth. “I promise I’m not here to murder you with an axe.”

  How did he even know I was here? Did he follow me? And yet it’s a ridiculous thing to say. So ridiculous that it loosens the tense banding of my shoulders as I push myself up to better see him. He’s so tall that even standing before the rock he doesn’t have to look very far up at me.

  He’s left his helmet somewhere, and his goggles are pushed up onto his forehead. Snowflakes cling to the revealed ends of his hair and slowly filter over his face. He doesn’t look relaxed, but there is an openness to his upward look which catches me.

  Those bright blue eyes tick between mine, asking a question without words. As if he there’s something he needs to know, and I’m the only one in the world who could tell him.

  He went, yesterday. And now he’s come back.

  “Do you mind?”

  I shake my head slowly. Chase has no such caution. He’s just as graceful on his feet as he is in the air, propelling himself up the side of the ledge with a forceful push and swing. His legs buffet against mine as he settles himself down beside me, and …

  Nothing. He just looks out at the world, and the moments unspool around us. The questions I have loosen their grip. It’s a little like that morning last week, when we rode together and nothing else seemed to matter very much.

  There’s only us, alone in the winter.

  “It’s beautiful,” Chase finally says. His voice is such a low hum that I feel it as much as hear it, rumbling against my side where we’re pressed lightly together. The feeling is strong despite all the layers of fabric between us.

  My mouth is suddenly dry, and I have no idea what to say. It’s like I’m seeing another part of him, a part usually kept hidden.

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “It is.”

  Again there’s only silence. The snow quietly shushes us. A light breeze tugs at the strands of hair where they escape Chase’s hat. He just looks out over the mountain, his back bent and his forearms resting light across his thighs as he stares out over the winter world.

  This has to be one of the weirder encounters of my life. Is he going to say anything? Am I? What even is there to say?

  Somehow I feel less pushed away from him, less held out, even though he doesn’t look at me or say a thing.

  It’s forever before he speaks again, and I surprise myself by feeling a tug of something in my stomach as he braces his gloved hands against the snow to push down.

  “I should go. I just wanted to say …” He tests the plump of his lip with his tongue, those bright eyes looking out over the valley. When he turns his face back to me his gaze is erratic, unable to fix properly on mine. “Sorry about yesterday. You didn’t deserve how I treated you.”

  Chase Austin, apologizing. Wonders never cease.

  I swallow dryly. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Tension flickers over Chase’s face. His easy shrug feels like a lie. “Yeah, well.” Well what? He doesn’t clarify. He’s pushing off from the ledge, hitting the snow with a thump and easily transferring the momentum into a lean for his board. Once he’s clipped in he looks back up to me, sliding his goggles down to obscure whatever look is in his eyes.

  “Stay safe, yeah?”

  “I will.”

  Why am I promising Chase Austin anything?

  But it is a promise.

  “He what?”

  JJ and I have spent the late afternoon getting some shots together. He’s a good subject—professional, calm, endlessly patient. A bad accident a few years ago has left him slightly more wary of the park than Chase, let alone the younger Hunter, so we’re up on the mountain together. Currently we’re taking a break in front of the huge ledge JJ has thrown himself over and then climbed back up at least ten times in the last two hours.

  I keep my face turned down to my camera, flicking through the images. “I didn’t imagine that was the kind of thing he did. Apologizing.”

  JJ snorts. “It’s not.” But he sounds pensive, and when I peek upward he’s rubbing his hand over his jaw.

  “It’s not like it was a big deal,” I say with a shrug, finally allowing the camera down to rest on its strap about my neck. “Yesterday. I mean, clearly something upset him …”

  “I guess you could say that.” JJ knows it’s not an answer. I know it’s not an answer. At least he has the decency to hold my gaze before with a sigh he flops down onto his ass, digging the heelside of his board into the
snow in front of him with his legs at a lazy half bend. He squints up at me against the sun, clearly considering what he’s going to say. When he does speak it’s slow and deliberate. Careful.

  “Chase is seriously fucked up. One apology … I mean yeah, the guy’s a brother to me. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be an asshole.”

  I worry at the edge of my camera for a moment, looking down as I trace my nails over the edge of the viewfinder. My hands are so cold I can hardly feel them. Still, that’s the job I signed up for.

  I find a smile. “I mean it. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  JJ grunts. It’s uncomfortable, how intently he’s looking at me. I’m not used to people other than Chase making me feel so awkward, leaving me shifting strangely on my feet.

  When JJ moves it’s sudden. He pushes up to his feet with easy strength, fishing one hand back for the bottle in his pack. “Anyway.” He pours some water into his mouth without properly fixing his mouth at the nozzle, swallowing before he turns his face back to mine. “You should know that Chase’s interest ends when the sex does.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but JJ’s going on.

  “Not saying that you’re intending to give him any. But if you were … Chase has a lot of shit going on.”

  I don’t get time to argue. For a second there’s a smile on JJ’s face that isn’t a smile at all. A fake, half-snarled tightening of his lips that reminds me of Chase’s crooked grin.

  “I mean, who am I to judge,” he says. “It’s not like I don’t fuck up my own relationships.”

  The bitterness surprises me, coming from bright, smiling JJ. I’m so used to him being the warmest, friendliest man in the group. Not effusive like Hanne, or wild like Hunter. Just kind and gentle.

  But I recognize it, too. The bitterness. I’ve had my own since Peter walked out.

  I’m not going to ask who made JJ bitter. Instead I tilt my head toward the slope with a grin, and this time it’s real. “You hitting it again?”

  JJ flashes me a more familiar grin, twisting one arm around his torso to slip the bottle into the side webbing of his bag. “You better believe it.”