A sharp ache twists in my chest. That wasours. Our secret. The one fragile thread that had tethered us across time and silence, like being trapped together in a snow globe.
Now he’s shattered it.
“I see the way you look at him,” she adds with asweet, pitying smile. “It must be hard to see him with someone else.”
I smile. I’m a Rousseau. Whatever happens inside me, outside, Margot Rousseau has taught us to be regal. “I think you’re mistaken, Calypso.”
“I am not.” She leans in just a touch, voice dropping an octave, her jaw clenching. “But I’m not going anywhere. And he’s not coming anywhere near you, either. So, stop batting your eyelashes at him. He’s not interested. Are we clear?”
For someone who says she’s so confident about her man, she’s insecure enough to have a throwdown with me. I feel the harshness of her words, but mostly I feel bad that I’ve caused her to wonder about Ransom.
I meet her gaze, letting the cold quiet settle between us. “Like I said, you’re mistaken.”
Ransom joins us then, and she loops her arm through his like she’s claiming prize property.
“All good?” I hear him ask her as they walk.
“Yes. Just…you know, clearing the air with Ember after what happened.”
The slope ahead of us is a wide red run—technically intermediate, but fast and steep, built to thrill.
It’s groomed to near perfection, corduroy lines still fresh beneath the morning sun. Pine trees edge the slope like spectators, their branches heavy with last night’s snowfall.
Aksel checks the map at the trail marker, though heknows these mountains better than the back of his hand.
Freja is already moving, poles in motion, her movement graceful and confident.
Ransom shifts beside me.
Calypso glides over to where Aksel and Freja are waiting by the trail map. Her hands fly into animated gesturing. Freja’s face is a study in restraint, polite but distant. Aksel, who can be super diplomatic, says something that makes Calypso toss back her head and laugh, her ponytail swinging.
Good! They’re making an effort.
Before I can turn away, Ransom moves in beside me, his voice low but firm. “I didn’t like how you talked to Calypso.”
I blink. “What?”
“You don’t have to be best friends, but at least try not to make her feel like she’s auditioning.”
Hurt courses through me. “I wasn’t auditioning her for anything.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t, Ransom.”
“Don’t you?” he challenges.
I close my eyes for a beat and then open them, hold his gaze, and smile. “I know you’re serious about her,andyou are family. So, yes, you’re right, we’ll do better with her. She must feel like we’re getting a little territorial on home snow.”
He nods.
“And…she said she knows about us. That…you told her.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“I…so I know she’s important to you. Being new here must be difficult for her. I promise I’ll be friendly.”
He frowns, his eyes narrowed. He studies me like he’s trying to unravel something, but I don’t give him the time to express his epiphanies.
