Great… I’m on speaker.
"Because being vulnerable makes you mean," my sister says.
I don't answer. There's nothing to say that won't prove her point.
"Just... try, okay?" Kat's voice softens. "Try trusting someone. It's not as terrifying as you think."
We both know that's a lie.
After we hang up, I stand there longer than I should, Kat’s words linger.
Try trusting someone.
I shove my phone back into my pocket and push off toward the lift.
That’s when I see them.
Natalia and Zack.
Side by side in the loading line. He's leaning toward her, saying something that makes her laugh—a real laugh, not the polished PR version. His hand hovers near the small of her back as they shuffle forward.
Too close.
Before I can think better of it, I'm moving.
I slide into the loading lane just as the chair swings around, edging between two tourists and cutting past Zack, planting myself directly at Natalia's side. The chair bumps the backs of our knees.
Zack throws up his arms. "What are you—"
We're already lifting off.
I meet his eyes and send him an easy smile, though it's fake as fuck. "Don't worry, bud," I call over my shoulder. "I've got her this time. Charge your time to my chalet."
Natalia turns, finally realizing I'm sitting next to her instead of Zack. Her focus had been on making it onto the lift safely—exactly the distraction I needed.
"What are you—" she started.
Below us, Zack slides back out of line, boots scraping against packed snow as the operator waves him toward the next chair.
I don't look back, but in my periphery, I see her turn over her shoulder and lift her hands up as if to tell Zack,"I have no idea what just happened."
"Sorry, Zack," she calls out.
Then she turns back to me. I can feel the heat of her stare radiating toward me. She angry.
"You didn't have to be cruel to him," she says finally, her hand gripping the back of the lift and turning sideways to lay into me.
"I wasn't cruel. I just gave him an hour off with pay. He should be thanking me."
"You dismissed him as if he were nothing."
"He was wasting your time," I say, my eyes on pulling on my gloves instead of at her.
It’s fucked up how cute I find her when she’s mad, but I can’t tell her that.
"He was teaching me to ski," she argues.
"Sure, badly."
