Carly gazed in front of them to where Grady and Jaden were walking. “He brings out something in you, that’s for sure.”
“I don’t even want to know what that means,” Quinn said.
Walking into a ski lodge, even one as small as Avalanche Mountain, with Grady Benson must’ve been a little like walking into an LA nightclub with Beyoncé. This was his world now, and entering it made her realize that he was still at the center, despite whatever bad press he’d gotten lately.
People gawked—literally gawked—as soon as they realized who he was, and the way the conversation picked up was uncanny. The whispers passed from one person to the next, like a row of dominoes in a game she didn’t know they were playing.
Over and over, she heard his name whispered, and while he didn’t outright acknowledge it, she had to believe Grady heard it too. And if she had to guess, she thought he might like the attention.
The attendant working at the rental counter stopped midsentence when he spotted Grady. Jaden straightened a little, clearly relishing the privilege of being at Grady’s side. As if this man needed more of an ego boost. His head was already practically too big to get through a regular-size door.
Though once she saw him interact with the staff at Avalanche Mountain, she thought maybe that wasn’t a fair assessment. While they practically fell all over themselves to give him whatever he wanted, he graciously signed autographs, gave bits of advice, and even lifted a small boy up on his shoulders to pose for a picture that the boy’s father said they would “treasure for the rest of their lives.”
Seriously? Was this real life for this guy?
After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, they all finally walked out of the lodge toward the back of the resort with skis, boots, goggles, and helmets—all things that were given to Grady as a “thank you for skiing with us today.”
Grady said he’d be back to give youth lessons, and Quinn tried not to laugh as the entire staff, made up mostly of twentysomething snowboarding types who said “dude” a lot and probably indulged in the kind of partying that was only legal in certain states, fell all over themselves to find out when that was happening.
Of course, Grady didn’t know. She doubted he was used to keeping his own schedule.
“I’ll keep you all posted,” he’d said.
Now, standing in the back of the resort, decked out in ski garb that made her feel like she was wearing an inflatable sumo wrestler costume, Quinn peered up at Grady, who she decided was only pretending to be wholly unfazed by the scene they’d just witnessed.
She could see it on his face. He missed it. Missed the attention, the affirmation that he was the best. She supposed it made sense—he was human, after all. But she wasn’t prone to hero worship, so he’d get none of that from her.
Jaden, on the other hand, was completely taken. “That was awesome! Does that happen to you every time you go somewhere to ski?”
Grady laughed. “No, not everywhere. Where I train, I’m just another skier.” Quinn couldn’t tell if his humility was false or genuine.
She’d guess false, but she’d been wrong about him so many times before.
“We know that’s not true,” Jaden said. “You’re the world champion. I’m sure that’s how it is—even where you train.”
Quinn pulled her goggles down over her eyes to shield herself from the sun—and the scene in front of her.
“You look like you’re ready to go.” Grady turned toward her.
“Looks can be deceiving.” Her nerves were like Mexican jumping beans in her belly.
“Maybe Mom and Aunt Quinn should go take a lesson or something?” Jaden clearly didn’t want them holding him up, and Quinn couldn’t blame him.
“Why would we go take a lesson when we have a world champion skier right here with us?” Quinn was just being mean now. It was as if her mouth had a mind of its own. A mean, childish mind that needed a time-out in the corner.
“I’ve actually been skiing before,” Carly said. “It’s just Quinn who doesn’t know how to put her boots in her skis.”
Quinn groaned. “Like I said, I would happily stay inside.”
“Nah,” Grady said. “I’ll teach you. You’ll be upright in no time.”
You haven’t seen me rollerblade.
Disappointment skittered across Jaden’s face, and Quinn hated that she was the cause of it. She would hold them up all day long if they waited on her.
“Maybe go ski with Jaden for a while first, and then you can teach me later?” she asked, softening her tone. As annoyed as she was to be there, this day wasn’t about her. She should’ve remembered that sooner.
“What will you guys do?” Grady asked. Was he actually concerned about her?
“We’ll be fine,” Quinn said. “I’d rather Jaden get the benefits of your expertise. It would be wasted on me.”
So off they went. Jaden and Grady, the student and the master. And Carly let out an unmistakable sigh as they did.
Quinn shot her what she hoped was a quizzical look. “What was that for?”
“Come on, Q,” Carly said. “You can’t pretend you don’t think that guy is beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” Quinn picked up her skis and headed toward a bench. A bench would be safe. Perfect for the nonathletic people in the crowd.
“Not to mention kind. Look at him with Jaden. He’s smart and attentive and—”
“Egotistical and frustrating,” Quinn cut in. “Don’t make him out to be what he’s not, Carly. He has one goal—suck up to whoever he can to help get him out of town sooner.”
“So?”
“So?” Quinn plopped down on the bench, dropping her skis on the ground beside her. “He’s using us. That’s it. He’s not some do-gooder with a heart of gold.”
“He didn’t have to take Jaden,” Carly said. “And he doesn’t have to teach him now.” She shook her head and looked away. “When will you ever stop seeing everyone through that lens, Quinn?”
“What lens?” She could feel herself bristling.
Carly turned toward her. “That lens of brokenness.”
Quinn frowned.
“You believe the worst about everyone. It’s like you dismiss them out of hand, you decide right off the bat that they’re going to let you down. You think you’re protecting yourself, but I think you miss out on a lot of great people that way.”
“That’s not true.”
Carly pressed her lips together the way she did when she was debating whether or not she should say something.
“It’s not true, Car.”
“When was the last time you had a relationship?”
“I have all kinds of relationships.”
“I’m not talking about your relationship with Bob at the hardware store or your friends from the diner. I mean an actual, put-yourself-out-there relationship?”
Quinn looked away.
“I can’t remember when you’ve ever risked your heart. Not even with Marcus, and how long did you date that man? Five years?”
She didn’t respond.
“Look, I know you’re still hoping that one day Mom is going to come back, but she’s not. She left us. We may never know why or how she’s lived with herself, but, Quinn, she’s gone. It might be time to accept that.”
Quinn stared off in the direction of the ski lift. “Why are you bringing up Mom? She has nothing to do with whether or not I’ve had a serious boyfriend.”
“I think she has everything to do with it.”
Quinn longed to run. She didn’t want to talk about her mother. Especially not with Carly, because she’d never understood how Carly had so easily gotten over their mother’s choice to leave. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’ve been in Harbor Pointe your whole life,” Carly said, as if that were proof of something.
“So have you!” The words came out a little more heated than she meant, drawing the attention of a couple a few yards away. “So have you,” she hissed, much more quietly this
time.
“But I’ve also traveled. I’ve been on an airplane. I’ve gone on job interviews in other states. You bought Mom’s flower shop. It’s like you’re still nine years old, sitting on the front steps, waiting for her to come home.” Carly reached over and put a hand on Quinn’s. She resisted the urge to yank it away. “What are you so afraid of?”
This was not how she’d planned to spend the day. This was not what she’d expected when she asked Carly to come along. Not when she had so much to do, so much to think about—when she was so close to confronting their mother once and for all. She was weeks away from proving that she didn’t need Jacie Collins anyway—why was Carly saying all of this now?
“I’m sorry, Quinn. I just don’t want you to spend your whole life watching everyone else from the second-story window. You deserve better than that.”
“So, what? You want me to risk my heart on the first guy who tells me I’m pretty? That didn’t work out so great for you.”
Too far, Quinn.
Throwing Josh back in Carly’s face was just about the worst thing she could’ve done. Carly had never openly wondered what her life would’ve been like if she hadn’t gotten pregnant so young, and suggesting it was a mistake was like saying Jaden shouldn’t be a part of their lives.
And that wasn’t something they would ever wish for.
“I’m sorry, Car—”
But her sister’s upheld hand silenced her. Her eyes were glassy. “I know you didn’t mean it. I know you get like this when you feel backed into a corner, which means something I said must’ve hit a nerve.” Carly stood. “I’m not trying to be mean. I just hate seeing you in this perpetual holding pattern. You never do anything that you don’t already know how to do.”
“Do you see where we are?”
“On a bench. At a ski lodge.”
“I’m going to try it,” Quinn said, hating that now she’d have to try it.
“Okay,” Carly said. “Then I’ll see you up there.” She pulled her goggles down over her eyes and started off toward the ski lift. Carly didn’t love skiing, but at least she knew how to do it. Quinn didn’t even have that going for her.
She sat, watching people mill about, hearing the occasional mention of Grady Benson, and wishing that she could deny what Carly had just said.
But sadly, she had the worst feeling all of it was true.
CHAPTER
17
THEY’D BEEN SKIING FOR AN HOUR when Jaden finally stopped talking. The kid was excited—passionate about skiing in a way Grady wondered if he’d ever been. In some ways, he reminded Grady of himself—he was strong and agile and seemed to come by the sport naturally. What he wasn’t, though, was stubborn. Jaden was eager to learn, and very obviously eager to please his coach for the day.
Jaden listened intently to everything Grady said, made corrections, and improved right there in front of his eyes. Things that had taken Grady years of trial and error, Jaden learned simply by listening to someone who’d been there.
They were standing at the top of the hill when Carly skied over, noticeably alone.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“It’s awesome, Mom. Grady is the best teacher. You’ve gotta see how much faster I am now.”
Carly moved her goggles to the top of her head. “He’s not giving you any trouble, is he? He doesn’t always respond well to coaching.”
Grady frowned. “Really?”
Jaden looked away.
“Sometimes he thinks he knows more than the coaches he’s worked with,” Carly said. “I’ve tried to tell him he’s never going to get anywhere that way.”
“He’s been really receptive,” Grady said. “I was just thinking what a quick study he is.”
“So you think I’m ready to compete?” Jaden’s eyes brightened.
“We’ve talked about that, Jay,” Carly said, her voice a warning.
“Yeah, but if Grady thinks I’m ready . . .” Jaden looked at Grady with those pleading eyes, as if waiting for his okay.
“Oh no.”
Grady followed Carly’s gaze toward the bottom of the hill until his eyes landed on a white blob—Quinn. She obviously had no idea how to even move forward on her skis.
“I can’t believe she’s standing upright,” Jaden said. “Should we go help her?”
Grady couldn’t help but smile. “Nah, let’s see what she does.”
They all watched for several seconds while Quinn, who’d somehow figured out how to hook her boots into her skis, struggled to navigate the flat terrain beneath them. At one point, she almost toppled over, but righted herself, only to be thrown off balance by a small child who zipped past her on the way to the ski lift.
Her arms circled in the air as she wobbled back and forth, finally landing in a heap in the snow. Grady could practically feel her anger, even from up here.
“We should go help her,” Jaden said.
“I don’t know,” Carly said. “This might be good for her.”
“Why don’t you go show your mom what we worked on, Jaden?” Grady offered. “I’ll help your aunt.”
Carly and Jaden started off toward a more advanced hill, and Grady watched Quinn for several more seconds, convinced she had no idea how to get up. Worse, not a single person had stopped to help her.
In order to reach her, he’d have to ski down the hill to the much flatter stretch of land that led to the bunny hills. He wouldn’t say so, but every hill there felt like a bunny hill to him. Still, even coasting down Avalanche Mountain, which he could do in his sleep, brought back an unfamiliar fear—that his skiing career was over.
He’d never worried about that before, but then, when you had sports commentators and fans doing nothing but singing your praises, it was difficult to ever imagine a day when you wouldn’t be on top. Now, though, he was searching for something—anything—to rely on. Something that would give him the strength to believe he still had what it would take to win.
But as deep as he dug, he came up empty.
And for the first time in his life, that scared him.
“There will come a day when you will realize that everything isn’t just handed to you. . . . And on that day, you call me. Because you’re going to need someone to work through it with.” Benji’s words were back, flashing through his mind like a neon sign. But what was he going to say? He’d sound so ungrateful whining about his career being over to a man who would never walk again.
He watched Quinn struggle for a few more seconds, then started down and around the small incline until he reached her. Standing at her side, he cast a long shadow across her, and she scowled up at him. At least he thought she was scowling—it was hard to tell behind the goggles, which were too big and looked borderline ridiculous on her.
“Need some help?”
“I’m fine,” she snarled.
“Right. You’ve obviously got this under control.”
“If that kid would’ve watched where he was going, I wouldn’t have fallen down,” she said.
He dropped his skis. “Oh, I think you probably would’ve fallen down eventually.”
She tugged at the ski on her right foot. “It’s stuck.”
He knelt down next to her and unhooked the ski, popping it off the boot in one quick motion. She was clearly not amused.
“Ready for your lesson?” He stood and reached a hand out in her direction to help her up.
She looked at it, as if she wasn’t sure what the ramifications of accepting his help were.
“Come on, I don’t bite.”
“I think maybe I should just call it a day. They’re probably finished with my floors. I should get back and get the shop set up.”
“They’re not finished with your floors.”
“Then I should work on the designs for the Winter Carnival.”
“The ones you already finished?”
She groaned. Finally, she stuck a gloved hand in his and he pulled her up. Their eyes were hardly level, given that she wa
s about a foot shorter than he was, but her big attitude made up for her small stature. “I’ll go easy on you. I promise,” he said. “We’ll start really slow.”
“This from the fastest skier in the country.” She stuck her hands on her hips and looked up in the direction of the very small, barely-an-incline hill where a group of tiny children were having a lesson.
“Have you been reading up on me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”
He straightened his skis. “Well, I’m pretty sure I’m not the fastest anymore.”
She glanced at him, and before she could pity him, he started off for the bunny hill. “You coming?”
Quinn stood there for a few seconds, then finally grabbed her skis and poles and followed him. He knew because her shadow gave her away. He had a feeling she would rather be cleaning out sewers.
They stopped at the bottom of the chair lift, and she stood there, shaking her head. “This is a bad idea.”
“You’re going to have to put the skis back on.” He motioned for her to put them on the ground, then knelt down and set the skis on either side of her feet. “Step in.”
She did as she was told and he clicked her boots in.
He led her over to the chair lift and waited until the guy operating it waved them over. Her face had practically turned the color of the snow.
“I’m not going to let you fall off,” he said.
She glanced at him but didn’t respond. They stood at the loading spot as the chair came behind them, and Grady reached back to steady it as they both got on.
“There,” he said, once they were moving. “Not so bad, right?”
She nodded, but he could see there was still fear on her face. Their feet hung over the ground as it moved them up and over toward the bunny hill. This was usually the point when Grady would get in the zone—clear out his mind and focus on what needed to be done.
But his mind was too cluttered for that.
He helped Quinn off the chair lift and moved her out of the way, stopping when they reached a small clearing near the top of the bunny hill. She stuck her poles into the snow beside her and continued with her scowling.
Just Let Go Page 17
