by Tara Wyatt
“This crap will help prevent you from getting injured. You get injured, the fun’s over. Trust me, I know. Come on, you’d be halfway through it by now if you’d just started instead of whining about it.”
“Fine.” He unclipped himself from his board and followed Sebastian’s lead, doing jumping jacks in the snow. “Are you even any good at the half-pipe? I usually have Lane.”
“It’s your lucky day, Chase, because I happen to be very good at the half-pipe. Like, I almost went to the Olympics—that’s how good I am.”
Chase snorted, huffing out a breath as he jumped. “Almost. Pfft. That’s not impressive.”
He stopped jumping and leveled his gaze at him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a turd?”
Chase stopped jumping, his arms flopping by his sides as his mouth fell open. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“Last time I checked, it was a free country.” He took a step closer to him, meeting his eyes. “You want to spend the day learning how to ride the pipe from a real pro, or you want to be snarky and not have any fun at all?”
“Jumping jacks aren’t fun.”
“Neither is getting hurt.”
“Neither is getting hurt,” Chase mimicked in a nasal voice, and Sebastian felt his patience start to slip. “Loser.” But when Sebastian just stared at him, he resumed his jumping jacks. Sebastian mentally flipped him off.
He gritted his teeth, sucking in a breath. It was going to be a long day.
After eating dinner in the commissary and declining Lane’s invite to head into town to shoot some pool, Sebastian had done his usual thing and hit the resort’s weight room. He’d always been fit, but over the past month he’d taken it to another level because he needed to do something to burn off the restless energy still crackling through him when he had too much free time on his hands. After his grueling workout, he’d trekked back to his little cabin to shower and ready himself for what had become a new Prescott tradition—the Wednesday night video chat.
Hidden just off of one of the smaller ski hills, the cabin was quiet and peaceful, surrounded entirely by snow-covered pines. It was definitely on the rustic side, but it was comfortable enough that Sebastian was grateful to call it home for the next six weeks. Patrick sometimes rented it out to skiers wanting a little privacy from the main resort, but it hadn’t been booked, so he’d let Bastian move in for the remainder of the ski season.
Sebastian mounted the steps up to the wraparound porch, stomping his boots on the welcome mat by the front door to avoid tracking in snow. He stepped inside, leaving the evening chill behind. To his left was a living area with a stone fireplace that went all the way to the ceiling, a sectional sofa nestled into the corner, and a wooden console with a small TV on top of it. Behind the living room was a small kitchen with dated but functional appliances and the ugliest countertop he’d ever seen in his life. To his right was a double bed with a single nightstand beside it, with a wardrobe and a dresser against the wall. Behind that was a door that led to the tiny bathroom with the world’s narrowest shower stall.
Home sweet home.
Toeing off his boots, he headed for the fireplace and got a fire going, and then moved over toward the bed. He stripped down, tossing his workout clothes in the hamper and then padded to the shower, the tiled floor icy against his feet. His muscles were sore, his body tired, both from the day on the mountain and his punishing workout. Today, he managed to only bang his elbow twice while scrubbing himself down, which he was going to chalk up as a win.
Once he’d toweled off and pulled on a white thermal Henley and a pair of gray sweatpants, he grabbed his laptop and took it to the couch, propping his feet up in front of the fire. After a moment, he was connected to the video chat, and three other frames filled the screen: his sister Aerin in the top left, his brother Lucian beside her, and then Max along the bottom.
“Hey, there he is!” said Aerin, waving. Aerin, an uber successful sports agent with her own agency, was currently in Florida with her husband Javier, the manager of the World Series-winning Dallas Longhorns. With a small smile, Sebastian waved back.
“How’s Vermont?” asked Lucian, the eldest Prescott sibling. He owned several successful restaurants and nightclubs in Manhattan, but most of his money came from less savory endeavors.
Sebastian shrugged. “Same as it was last week. Cold. Snowy. Good.”
“Have you given any more thought to what you’re going to do come springtime?”
He shook his head. “No. Just kinda taking it one week at a time.” Which was generous, because there were days where he was taking it one hour at a time.
Just then, the screen shifted as a fourth video joined them. His baby brother Theo’s face appeared in the bottom left corner, bright sunshine streaming around him, the sky jostling behind him as he walked.
“Hey, sorry guys. I got stuck in court. Just walking back to the office now.”
“Are you FaceTiming in public?” asked Sebastian, a smile twisting his lips. “God, you’re such a douche.”
Theo’s mouth fell open. “I am not a douche. Excuse me for living on the west coast. You guys said eight PM, which is only five PM for me.”
“Yes, we know how time zones work,” deadpanned Max, who was clearly still in his office. He ran a billion-dollar tech company called Tapp that had developed some hugely successful apps for things like messaging, video chat, photo sharing, recipes, travel and more. “You’re still a douche.”
“Man, I had this nice speech prepared about how much I miss you guys and everything, but forget it.”
Rolling her eyes, Aerin stepped in. “How’s everything out in SoCal?”
“Good,” he said, his eyes darting back and forth as he checked for traffic before crossing the street. “Life is really, really good.” His smile was downright goofy when he turned back to his phone, and Sebastian was happy for him. Truly.
And maybe a little sad for himself, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was happy Theo had found love and happiness and all that sparkly shit.
“Look at you, you’re like a puppy,” grumbled Max, shaking his head. “It’s almost sad.”
“Um, excuse me, aren’t you developing a dating app?” asked Aerin, tilting her head to the side.
“Lots of people create things they would never use themselves. The online dating market is lucrative. So sue me.”
“Speaking of douches,” said Sebastian, grinning despite the fatigue pulling at him. “You should’ve seen this kid I had today. Entitled, enormous chip on his shoulder, horrible attitude. Thinks he’s smarter and cooler and better than everyone else. He’s got crazy talent though.”
Lucian let out a soft snort. “That sounds familiar.”
Sebastian held up his hands. “I know, I know. But it makes me want to help him. Or throttle him. I haven’t decided which yet.”
“Please don’t murder a child. Even I can’t help you get away with that.” Lucian smirked. He pretended to be annoyed with the family’s gossip about him—gossip that he was connected to the mafia, that he was dangerous, that he was a motherfucking badass no one dared to mess with—but Sebastian was pretty sure he secretly liked it. Lucian had taken so much shit while they were growing up that it probably felt pretty freaking good to be king of the castle now.
“How’s Shelby?” asked Theo, referring to the surrogate currently five months pregnant with Javi and Aerin’s twin girls.
Aerin beamed. “She’s great, and the babies are great. I can’t wait to start setting up the nursery once we get back to Dallas after spring training.”
And there went that familiar pang, right in the middle Sebastian’s chest. This feeling of being left behind almost swamped him and fuck did he want a drink or a woman or to go do something else that made him feel alive.
He forced himself to take a breath. To sit with the feeling until it passed. Because it was only a feeling. Nothing bad was going to happen if he just stayed here, right where he was. He
just had to keep telling himself that.
“Well, maybe they could be flower girls? At the wedding?” asked Theo. “Lauren and I picked late June next year.”
“Hey, you set the date! That’s great.” Aerin smiled, and they all nodded along. Then, her eyes drifted above the screen of her laptop and her mouth fell open. “Um, yeah, I…I have to go.”
“Is Javi naked? I bet Javi’s naked,” said Sebastian, simultaneously jealous, disgusted, and happy for her.
“Ugh, I don’t want to know,” said Theo, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I don’t want to think about my sister having sex. There isn’t enough brain bleach in the world.”
“Oh, grow up, Theodore,” she chided, her cheeks pink.
“No, and I’ll give you two reasons: I don’t wanna and you can’t make me.”
“Have to agree with Theo on this one,” said Sebastian. “I don’t want to think about you getting it on with Javi, or Javi naked, or Javi and anything to do with sex. No offense to Javi.”
“None taken!” came Javi’s voice just as Aerin said, “okay, love you, gotta go, bye” and then she slammed her laptop shut.
“I gotta go, too,” said Theo as he stepped inside what Sebastian assumed was the lobby of his office. “I have some phone calls to return before I can head home for the day.” To his gorgeous fiancée, where they’d probably open a bottle of wine and maybe go for a walk on the beach and then have hot, sweaty monkey sex until they passed out.
Not that Sebastian was jealous. No. Definitely not.
“And then there were three,” said Max, shaking his head sadly. “For the record, those two are crazy. I’m happy for them because duh, obviously. But they’re crazy.”
Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t know. Are they? They seem really happy. Happier than the three of us.”
Max frowned. “Hey, I’m plenty happy,” he grumbled.
“Very convincing,” said Lucian, rolling his eyes. Then he turned his attention to Sebastian. “How are you, really?”
“If you’re asking if I’m still sober and in one piece, the answer is yes. Even if it feels like I’m hanging on by my fingertips sometimes.” His voice came out a little raw, a little rough around the edges. He felt naked admitting that he was still struggling, even if he was doing so much better than he’d been a couple of months ago.
“You’re doing great, man,” said Max quietly. “I’m proud of you for getting your shit together.”
Sebastian snorted out a laugh, feeling uncomfortable with Max’s praise. “Yeah, well you might want to hold the fucking parade. I haven’t done anything yet.” After a pause, he asked, “And what about you, Lucian? Are you happy?”
He looked right at the camera and blinked slowly. “As happy as I have any right to be.” He gestured to his expensive suit, his gorgeous apartment. “I get by.”
“But isn’t there a part of you that wants to find what Theo and Lauren have? What Aerin and Javi have?” he asked, wondering if his brothers felt that way too, or if it was just him.
“That’s not something that’s in the cards for me, brother.” Lucian’s voice was gruff, resigned.
“Why not?” asked Max.
“Why are you single?” Lucian shot back.
Max’s jaw went tight, his eyes dark and bright. “That’s a fucking shitty question, Lucian. Because you know the answer.”
“Maybe it’s time you forgave yourself.”
Max said nothing, simply went stone faced and then sighed. “I gotta go. Hang in there Bastian. You’re doing great.” And then he disconnected from the video chat.
“One at a time,” muttered Lucian, shaking his head.
“What was that?” asked Sebastian.
“Nothing. Just thinking out loud. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
“Okay. Thanks. For everything, man. Seriously.”
The video chat ended and Sebastian closed his laptop, feeling at loose ends, mixed emotions swirling through him. More and more, there was this divide: the happy Prescotts and the miserable Prescotts. Aerin was happily married with twins on the way, and Theo was newly engaged to his best friend. And there was him—a recovering gambling addict who’d massively fucked up his life—Lucian, and Max. The dark ones. The fucked up ones.
He shoved a hand through his hair and pushed it all away, not wanting to think about the damage he’d done to his life, his loneliness, his uncertainty about the future. Setting his laptop aside, he reached for the remote.
Netflix and chill wasn’t nearly as fun alone.
3
Kayla adjusted her pink beanie as she stood in the lobby of the Blizzard Ridge ski resort while a hundred of the company’s executives milled about, creating a buzz of voices bouncing off of the stone walls. Frowning, she glanced down at her iPad, flicking between apps as she tried to manage everything.
“You know,” she said to Davis Ashford, the man who’d been promoted into her old position, “I don’t recall Sebastian Prescott ever having to plan a freaking corporate retreat. I still don’t understand how event planning of any kind is even remotely my job.”
Davis snorted out a laugh. “Do you seriously think they would’ve trusted Prescott with something like this? He’d have had everyone on a red eye to Vegas and we’d have all come home broke with gonorrhea.”
She let out a little laugh. “Very, very true.”
She sighed, glancing around the opulent lobby again. A massive stone column that housed an impressive fireplace sat in the middle of the room, soaring up into the ceiling where it met the dark wood beams crisscrossing the stones above. The stone floors shone in the dim lighting, inlaid with intricate mosaics of the mountains and pines surrounding them. Burgundy leather chairs dotted the space, many of them facing the floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall that looked out onto the main ski hill. It really was a pretty place; it was one of the reasons she’d chosen it out of the options she’d been given by her Stammler. In years past, the corporate retreat had taken place at a hotel in Manhattan, but the company had had a very good year and Stammler had wanted to kick things up a notch. He was counting on her to deliver the best corporate retreat ever. Even though it wasn’t really her job, and event planning wasn’t her area of expertise.
Passing her iPad off to Davis, she moved into the center of the room. “Hey everyone, if I could just have your attention for a minute,” she called, and the voices around her died as her colleagues all turned in her direction. She pasted a smile to her face, already counting down the seconds until this stupid retreat was over and she could get back to the city. She didn’t like the snow, or the cold, and had no desire to break her neck on a damn ski hill. Kayla considered herself an indoor person, sort of like an indoor cat. Give her a good book and cup of tea and she was happy. Or a glass of wine and a crossword puzzle. Or a bottomless bowl of popcorn and a Netflix marathon. She liked to travel, but outdoor activities like skiing were totally out of her wheelhouse. She was a city girl, through and through.
“If you’ll check your email, you’ll see that I’ve sent you all copies of your itinerary for the next four days. Everyone has individualized schedules based on the online questionnaires you filled out, so please stick to your assigned timetable. There are a few common events, including the welcome cocktail reception tonight. On Thursday morning, we’re going to have our company wide meeting in one of the banquet rooms, and breakfast will be included. You’ve all signed up for various professional development seminars—again, please stick to your timetables because this is all very tightly organized in order to give you the best experience possible. You’ll also have plenty of time to enjoy what the resort has to offer, including small group ski and snowboard lessons. Let’s all cheer each other on this week, encourage each other to try new things, and really come together to make this retreat—and this year—the best it can be.” She glanced at her watch. “Once you’re checked in, you’ll have a few hours of free time before the cocktail reception.”
There wa
s a round of murmurs and halfhearted applause, which made her heart sink. She didn’t want to be here either, but it was her job to sell it and impress Stammler. Even though she’d been promoted a few months ago, she still felt like she was finding her footing and needing to impress at every turn. Getting fired or demoted or whatever wasn’t part of the Perfect Life Plan. There was no backtracking on the Perfect Life Plan, because backtracking meant she’d made a mistake. And the whole point of the plan was to not make mistakes.
“So, are you a skier or a snowboarder?” asked Davis, handing her iPad back to her. She shook her head and frowned.
“Neither. The only thing I ride is the subway.”
He nodded, his eyes skimming over her size twelve curves in a way she definitely didn’t like. “Yeah, you don’t really look like the athletic type. But there’s a beginner snowboarding lesson in half an hour. If you want to set a good example, you should probably come.”
She frowned and checked the time again. “Um, yeah. Okay.” Not what she really wanted to be doing, but Davis wasn’t wrong about setting a good example. Even though she would’ve much rather found her room and gotten some work done, or settled herself by the fire with her book. Hopefully there’d be time to relax later. If she didn’t break her neck.
“You ready?” asked Patrick, clapping Sebastian on the shoulder. He stood at the top of the resort’s half-pipe, the snow cleared of other boarders for the resort’s daily demonstration. It was his favorite part of the day, when he, Lane and Bodhi got to spend a few minutes showing off for the guests. It was a great way to convince people to sign up for lessons and provided a little entertainment for the guests.
“Yup.” He strapped his helmet on, watching as Bodhi finished his run, smoothly gliding away from the pipe as the people who’d gathered to watch cheered. With a grin, he slid his goggles into place, shifted his weight forward and slid down the sloped mouth of the half-pipe, hopping a couple of times and pumping his legs to gain momentum before dropping in.
