"I’m not," I reply, my attention not leaving Natalia.
The truth is sitting in my chest like a stone. A sensation heavier than I’d like and unmoveable at this point. I chose Natalia over routine, over escape, over the woman standing in front of me offering exactly what I usually take. Over the possibility of an injury that could cost me and my team the playoffs. That’s the one that hits the hardest.
Deep down, I don't want this. It only leads to false hope, disappointment, and heartbreak. People can’t be trusted, especially if they want something from you.
I don't want the way my pulse is still hammering, the way my hands are clenched into fists, the way every instinct in my body is screaming to stay close to Natalia even though she's fine, she'ssafe, Zack is perfectly capable and I have no right. I have no claim on her. Nor do I want one. At least that’s what I tell myself.
"Come on, Luka," Annabella's voice pulls me back. She's smiling now, easy and confident. "You won fair and square on the last slope. I'm ready to pay up with a massage. My place or yours?"
She pushes off, heading back toward the lift.
I should take the ‘out’ Annabella is offering. It’s far simpler than staying on this mountain with Natalia and Zack.
But my feet don't move. Not until Natalia speaks.
"You'd better go," she says, her tone light, almost casual. "Sounds like you have plans."
I look at her. She's standing there, brushing snow off her jacket, not meeting my eyes. Her expression is carefully neutral,but there's something underneath. Something that I recognize because I've used it myself… Armor.
"I won't wait up tonight," she adds, assuming she knows what’s going to happen with Annabella.
I leave. Not because Annabella is waiting, but because I can't justify staying. I can't explain it to myself without crossing a line I refuse to cross.
So I turn and ski back down the hill the same way Annabella did, my legs moving on autopilot, my mind still back on that bunny hill with Natalia's heartbeat against my chest and the look in her eyes.
Behind me, I hear Zack ask if she wants to try again.
I don't hear her answering.
I don't look back.
Chapter Twelve
NATALIA
I'm still on the bunny hill after Luka saved my life and then skied off after a snow bunny, like it was nothing. All in a day’s work for a brooding hockey winger with a hot Russian scowl. I’m trying not to think about the fact that fifteen minutes ago, I nearly became a tree ornament.
The bunny hill is supposed to bring some level of comfort in comparison to the scary slopes all around me. All named something unsavory that should scare any normal, reasonable human being. Like, "The Devil’s Thong," or "Hell’s Pleasure Chute," or something like that.
This hill is supposed to be designed for beginners wobbling down like baby deer learning their legs. A safe little trainingwheels situation for adults who have no business strapping planks to their feet and trusting gravity not to kill them.
Except gravitydidtry to kill me. And Luka launched himself off a moving chairlift to stop it from happening. Then he disappeared down the mountain with Annabella before I could even catch my breath.
Now my thighs are screaming, my shoulders ache from tensing every muscle in my body, and Zack is making me practice stopping. Again.
"Weight on your downhill ski," Zack calls out a few feet away, angled toward me with the kind of relaxed posture that makes me want to throw a snowball at his face.
How is he so calm? How is anyone this calm when I'm one wrong edge away from round two with the forest?
I grit my teeth and force myself through the motions of pizza wedges, odd movement that feels wrong, and trying to get down a full stop. My skis shudder beneath me, but they hold.
"You're doing great," Zack says, like he isn't a liar.
"I almost died," I remind him.
Zack grins. "But you didn’t. That's progress."
I huff out a laugh through the ache in my thighs. My calves feel as though they’ve been bruised from the inside. And I can still feel Luka’s arm around my waist, the way he yanked me sideways like I weighed nothing, the spray of snow, the stop so sharp my teeth clicked.
