I sat on the bench opposite the free-weights, looking up at the clock for the fifty-sixth time in the past twenty-eight minutes. That’s right, I couldn’t stop my gaze from straying to the clock on the wall, on my wrist, on my cell, or on my iPad, every thirty seconds from the moment that Chance should have been here but wasn’t.
Kyle had already checked on me twice in the middle of his own appointment and Monroe… well, I just ignored her; I didn’t have time for her petty little smirks and effusive negativity.
I had the front desk call him when he was ten minutes late. I broke down and called him at the twenty-minute mark. Neither had produced any appreciable result.
After what happened earlier in the week, this—not showing up for his appointment today—was the last thing I expected. I expected him to show up gloating and teasing me like every day since, tempting me to beg for more—which I, of course, returned with every rebuttal in the book. But no, he was a no-show.
The worst part was that way, way, way deep down inside, I was mostly upset because I wouldn’t have the chance to give in again. All week he’d worn me down, my desire dissolving my denial. And today of all days, I wanted to give in. And that’s what made me the most annoyed.
Maybe he knew this. Maybe this was all part of his grand scheme to have me begging for him back.
Asshole.
So, I sat there and worked on my notes and then my exercise plan for Betty; at least she was doing phenomenally. I was also afraid that the second I left, that gorgeous asshole would stroll through the door, complain about why I wasn’t there, and then have one more thing to taunt me about.
“Hear anything?” My head darted up, Kyle standing in front looking down intently at me.
I shook my head, realizing that it was the end of the hour. Chance had officially missed his therapy appointment. “Not a word.”
“Wonder what happened. Hope he’s ok.”
I rolled my eyes. I hoped he’d zipped his dick trying to put on his pants and was currently crying like a baby in a doctor’s office somewhere.
Think that’s a little much there, Jessa?
Smilingly tightly, I said, “He probably overslept or oversmoked; he’s not a compliant patient.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow at me. “I don’t know about that.”
“Why?” I stood, not wanting to linger too long; I’d taken a car-full of my stuff from Tammy’s this morning and had a few last things to grab.
Kyle walked next to me as I made for the door exiting the gym. “Just seems like he’s been working his ass off to impress you all week.”
I laughed out loud. Literally. “Yeah… I don’t think that’s what’s going on.” More like working his ass off in an attempt to work me over.
“If you say so. Just telling you what I see.” He shrugged and I really had to appreciate what nice shoulders… and chest… he had. I cursed the lower parts of me for not giving a shit.
“Thanks,” I responded, wryly. “I gotta head out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Have a good night.” His smile beamed at me. He was so nice, so thoughtful.
Why couldn’t I want him again?
Why did I have to want the asshole who explicitly told me that he was determined to break my heart? The asshole who’d blown off our session today after enjoying his victory over my nether regions yesterday. What was the purpose? Why disappear now after I’d just—foolishly—given into him? There had to be something else going on.
I turned in my iPad and took the stairs two-at-a-time to grab my purse from the lounge area upstairs.
What had happened today? That was a better question to focus on rather than why I wanted a man who hated me.
It was also an easier question to get the answer to. Why I wanted Chance… that question I didn’t like the answer to; as the saying goes, the truth hurts.
Six of Cups: A card of nostalgia and generosity, you return to a familiar environment or nostalgic place where a friend or past lover may turn up again. In the midst of change and crisis, the Six of Cups suggests that looking back at what you have endured is a good way to assure yourself that whatever trials lay ahead, you will meet them and you will overcome them as you overcame others.
JESSA
I think I grabbed the rest of my stuff from your apartment. If you come across anything else just let me know and I can swing by to get it.
TAMMY
Ok! Sorry I couldn’t be there to help you today.
JESSA
Don’t worry about it. Everything going ok at the doctor’s?
TAMMY
Still in the waiting room.
JESSA
The worst.
TAMMY
I brought a book; it’s not so bad.
JESSA
Was Lila at daycare today?
TAMMY
No. I tried to call. No answer.
JESSA
It’s only one day. I’m sure she’s ok.
TAMMY
I’m going to give it to the end of the week. Well, I’m going to try to.
JESSA
Let me know if I can do anything. Love you.
TAMMY
Thanks. Love you, too.
JESSA
Left you some La Croix in the fridge FYI. A little parting gift to remind you of me ☺
TAMMY
How can they remind me of you if they are in the fridge instead of strewn half-empty around the apartment? ;)
JESSA
Rude.
TAMMY
☺
I laughed to myself as I clicked off my phone. Arm around the back of the passenger headrest, I backed out of the spot in front of Tammy’s apartment, hearing my numerous candles clank in the box I’d loaded in the back seat. I should have gotten all of this stuff earlier in the week—like the day after Ally told me I could move into her vacant house, but by the time I got to work each day I was physically and emotionally exhausted.
Every day had been the same—a great morning working and chatting with Betty followed by afternoons from hell. Working with Chance was like having a chocolate bar put in front of you, only you’re never allowed to eat it. A chocolate bar that unwraps itself no less.
If there was one thing to be said about me—beside that I was a spirit-searching hippie—it was that I was determined. Right now, I was determined to not let things go any farther with Chance. But it was so. Fucking. Exhaustingly. Hard.
First, I kept the sessions in the huge gym thinking more people and less nudity would be involved compared to the pool. I hadn’t thought about the fact that sweat dripped just the same as water off every cut of his muscles. I hadn’t thought that the crowd of people only made my wanting him even more forbidden and hence even more potent. I hadn’t thought about the fact that the room was lined with mirrors that now seemed to be there for the sole purpose of making sure that no matter where my gaze tried to escape from him, it would still always find him. That, for the entire hour, his image was literally reflected back to me from every angle.
It was torture.
I contemplated moving back to emphasizing Hydroworx exercises, but the way my mind replayed the sexy snapshot of the past few times in the pool room made it crystal clear that that was not a good idea for me. I already found my way back to those images every night this week.
It was all his fault.
The road before Ally’s street was poorly paved from all the snowfall and salt trauma to it. It had been this way for eight years and I doubted they’d done anything to try and patch it. Each bump was not entirely muted by the suspension in my truck, instead rolling through the familiar melodic beat to the song of anticipation strumming through me; I felt this every time I made this drive. My body hadn’t yet realized that I wasn’t in high school anymore and that Chance wasn’t going to be waiting for me when I finally got there.
Bummer.
I rubbed my thighs together because, down there, it was more than a bummer. But up here, in my head, I drowned out the
whining from my lower parts and focused on the anger that I still felt over the fact that he’d missed his appointment with me without so much as a text.
It angered me indescribably—not because of the insult to me (ok, maybe partially that)—but because he was treating his future this way. Carelessly. A future that I’d broken both of our hearts to try to preserve.
Hitting the Bluetooth button on the steering wheel, I called Ally for the distraction. “Hey, Jess! What’s up?”
“Hey—“ I broke off hearing her giggle in the background. Oh God. “Please tell me you did not answer the phone in the middle of having sex with, Emmett.”
She gasped, “Of course not!” And then laughed. “But I can’t make any promises if you don’t talk quickly.”
She was teasing—I think. I hope.
“Just wanted to let you know that I’m on my way over to your house with my stuff, I guess just confirming that it’s still ok for me to crash at your house for the time being.”
“Of course! Do you seriously think I would take that back?”
“No,” I sighed, “I guess I’m just wondering if you ran it by your other siblings.”
“Well, I met Chan for coffee earlier and told her. I haven’t talked to Chance lately though, but I mean, you could have said something to him… you probably see him more frequently than I do right now.”
“Yeah…” If the asshole would show up for his appointment, maybe I would have.
“Did you not tell him this week? I mean, I can give him a call, but it’s not like he’s living there. I can’t fathom why he would care.”
Well, maybe because he hates me and is out to make my life miserable.
Oh, and maybe because it’s his house, too!
Just. A. Thought.
“No. I didn’t. I didn’t think I was the right person for that to come from.” I paused debating for a second about saying what inevitably rolled off of my tongue next, “I actually didn’t see him today.”
“Oh. Why?”
“Your guess is as good as mine; he didn’t show up for his appointment.”
“Emmett,” I heard her yell, “have you heard from Chance today?” Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear his response, so I waited. “What do you mean?” Still no clue what Ally was hearing or asking about. I licked my very chapped lips and drove in silence through the trees that looked like they were just losing the last bit of snow.
“Sorry,” she apologized, coming back on the line, “I don’t know what’s going on. I think something is going on, but Emmett doesn’t seem to want to tell me right now.” And then her voice lowered conspiratorially, “I’m going to find out and then give you a call or text and let you know. But I think something happened with Frost—not to him, necessarily, but yeah.”
“Ok, thanks. Talk to you soon.”
My mind began turning faster than the gears in my V8 pick-up, contemplating just what was going on with Mr. Nick Frost—the coldest man on the mountain.
Even though I loved the mountain, I still searched for warmth and sunshine in the people around me. The energy that radiated from Nick Frost was so painfully cold—the kind that is so cold that it burns—that it could bring you to your knees. Anger and rage bubbled inside Nick, underneath the chiseled, shimmering, and beautiful sculpture of ice that everyone was too dazzled by on the outside.
I didn’t really know Nick until Chance started pursuing me. Rephrase: I knew of Nick Frost, because, well, who didn’t? He’d become popular in high school because his parents were rich—always funding any and everything. Then he’d become infamous once the rumors began to start and the Winter Games were in full session.
Rumor had it that Nick Frost had walked in on his mom screwing another man and in retaliation, he’d decided to act out in every and any way possible. They also said his mother blamed him, claiming that his actions were what had caused his father’s untimely death. His version? That the man his mother married less than a year after the death had been responsible.
Pulling up Ally’s driveway was just another turn down memory lane, my body on autopilot as my thoughts took me back to high school. When Nick’s dad died and his mom was with that Stone guy, even before they were married, that’s when he’d gotten bad. The Winter Games had become a pre-game for the parties that Nick would throw at his house afterward while his parents were gone. And then, after a few days of recovering from the effects of the alcohol (and other things), he would inevitably walk into school one day with a black eye or a broken wrist. Snowboarding accident. More like a Stone-battling accident.
I only knew this because of Chance, though.
Hauling the cardboard box into my arms, the strong scents of vanilla and lavender and lilac wafted through the cold air. Candles and La Croix may have been my weaknesses. And my Cards. And Chance.
I guess I had a thing for C’s.
Except cleanliness. Definitely not cleanliness.
I managed to punch in the key-code to the door to the garage and shuffle inside without too much difficulty.
“Shit.” I groaned as my elbow slammed into the doorknob trying to push the door to the house open without having the full use of my hands.
The box made several clunking noises as I set it down on the coffee table, running my hands through my hair and pulling it up in a top-knot. The few boxes I’d brought over earlier in the week still sat by the steps, some opened and partially unpacked.
I flicked on the lights and walked into the kitchen, opening up the fridge that I’d stocked earlier with a case of my lime-flavored sparkling water. The fresh fizz in my mouth did nothing to liven the emptiness of the space.
Empty. Alone.
I hadn’t quite thought this through: no Tammy and a larger space.
The past few days, I’d just been too tired to notice. But today, without so much energy being spent keeping my urge to screw a certain SnowmassHole under wraps, I was wide awake to the reality that I was coming home to.
It’s just temporary, I tried to reassure myself.
The air felt stale as it climbed down my throat and into my lungs; the few days spent of me ‘living’ (aka sleeping) in it hadn’t managed to get rid of the effusive scent of emptiness, its vacuity hanging in the air like a thick fog, accentuated by all the dust I’d kicked up just by moving in and around the space.
My phone dinged.
ALLY
E says he’s not sure. Says Chance has kept him at arm’s length. He thinks it’s because of him and me. I think Chance is too much in his own head. *eye roll emoji*
I laughed because I could totally picture her face making that exact expression. I was so happy for her. And Emmett. They’d both been through so much—lost so much—but haven’t we all? Happily-ever-afters were falling all around me like snow, except I was the only one left cold out in the storm—my heart tied to the man I’d broken.
The one man too proud to ever forgive me for it either.
I strummed my fingers on the granite countertop, staring blankly at them. And then, I saw those same fingers gripping that same countertop, holding my body steady as Chance fucked me from behind. Flashbacks of my body that felt like it had been overheating—still wearing all my snowclothes from the mountain. My pants barely pulled down to my thighs; Chance’s barely undone in the front before he’d bent me over and slammed into me. I gripped onto the countertop because it was the only cool anchor for my body that had exploded with heat.
I jerked my hand back—away from the reminder and back into the loneliness.
Arms over my chest, I wondered how much more difficult living here was going to be. Pulling out my phone, I considered for a brief second calling and begging Tammy to take me back. Paying for a live-in maid would be worth the expense, right? The price for keeping my sanity.
Groaning, I set my phone on the counter and walked over to the box that I’d just brought in. Candles. I needed candles.
Honestly, how had I survived the past few days without them?
Digg
ing through the slew of various vanilla-scented options, I pulled out a new one that I’d bought a few weeks ago—Magical Frosted Forest. Popping the top off I took a good whiff, the scent immediately bringing a smile to my face and the feeling of home to my heart.
Opening the small drawer on the end table, I found a lighter inside and lit the wick.
Time to unpack.
Another glance at the open emptiness whispered that a glass of wine would best accompany the endeavor—especially after today. Reaching into the same box as the candles, I pulled out the bottle of Riesling that I’d brought from Tammy’s—a gift from Ally when I’d passed my licensing exam.
Bottle opener—one of the few things I had brought with me to Tam’s and now, here. Wine glasses were too fancy for the occasion, so into a coffee mug went an overly-zealous pour of the semi-sweet white wine.
Opening up Spotify, I tapped on Tristan Prettyman’s album from a few years ago; I wasn’t feeling nostalgic though, I swear. Lingering downstairs for as long as I could, swaying to the beat of the music, I began unpacking the rest of my minimal kitchen possessions—the majority of which were still at my old place—and random other belongings (aka candles).
Cedar. Pine Needles. Eucalyptus. Crushed pineapple. Raspberry ice.
The scent burning in the living room spread potently through the space, making the house smell like winter warmth. It was everything about this place—the drive here on bumpy roads lined with snow-topped trees accented by the few flakes that drifted to the ground with the wind. It was the house that looked like a mansion yet managed to feel like a cozy cabin, sitting at the top of a not-incredibly-short driveway. It was the homey rustic décor, plaid blankets, leather couches, a stone fireplace, and huge windows that gave just a glimpse at the winter wonderland outside of them as the sun began to set. It smelled like home. It smelled like the mountain.
I lost myself in the aroma of nostalgia, trying my very best to organize my belongings in some semblance of neatness that Tammy would find marginally acceptable. I also lost myself in about three-quarters of the bottle of wine knowing that I didn’t have work tomorrow; instead I would be unpacking more memories.
The Winter Games Page 86
