Her blue eyes slide to mine. “Yes, because of the accident.” She looks down again. “That day changed everything. My body, my confidence…me. I can’t go back to who I was, no matter how much everyone wishes I could. And I’m tired of trying. So I decided that maybe it’s time to figure out who I am now.”
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.
“And snowboarding is supposed to help with that?”
Her lips twitch, almost a smile but not quite. “It’s different enough to challenge me. But it’s still on the snow, still a mountain. It feels…familiar. Just not the same.”
I study her profile, the curve of her jaw, the stubborn set of her mouth. There’s something different about her that wasn’t there three years ago. It makes me want to reach for her, to say something—anything—that might ease the heaviness between us, but I grip my fork tighter instead.
Because no matter how much she’s changed, she’s still Maisy.
And Maisy will always be off-limits.
FOUR
MAISY
“I knowit’s been several years since I was a beginner at something, but I’m almost certain we should be on a bunny hill right now and not halfway up the fucking mountain, Sterling,” I shout over the whistle of the wind.
It’s my first day of snowboarding lessons and Sterling decided we’d start where the pros go. But I’m no pro.
Not at snowboarding at least.
“You’re too good for a bunny hill, Hart. You just need a crash course in technique, and you’ll be taking off down the slope just like everyone else.”
“You sound like you have a lot of confidence in me,” I say, looking at him now, but I can’t see his eyes hidden under his goggles.
“‘A lot’ is a bit of a reach,” he mutters, but I catch it.
Dick.
“Alright.” Sterling claps his hands together, but his thick gloves mute the sound. “Let’s start with figuring out which one of your feet is your front foot.”
I blink at him. “Don’t you already know that? You’ve seen me ski a thousand times.”
“Yeah, but snowboarding’s different.” He steps closer, boots slightly sinking into the packed snow. “So we’re gonna test it.”
I narrow my eyes. “Test it how?”
Sterling plants his big, gloved hands on my shoulders and gives me a sudden shove.
“Sterling!” I squeal, stumbling forward in the snow. My right foot shoots out instinctively to catch myself.
“Ah-ha.” He points, smug as hell. “Right foot goes forward. That’s your stance.”
I turn and glare at him. “You can’t just shove someone down a mountain to figure that out!”
He chuckles, the sound low and infuriating. “But it worked, didn’t it?”
“I should report you to my brother.”
“You do that, sweetheart. After this lesson.” He shoves his goggles up onto his helmet and kneels in front of my board, brushing snow off the bindings. “Okay, let’s get you strapped in.”
I awkwardly balance on one foot as he secures the first strap, his fingers moving with ease despite his thick gloves. He tugs on the second one, then frowns.
“What?” I ask, suddenly nervous.
He tugs again, harder this time, then sits back on his heels. “These bindings aren’t right.”
