Snow Job

by Tara Wyatt

  “What if, even after we pay off Coldhurst, people keep coming for me?”

  Lucian shrugged and let out a long breath. “It’s possible. I’ll do whatever I can to find out if you have any other loan sharks looking for you. But even I can only do so much. And we’re not paying him. You are. I’m merely the broker.” He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small stack of papers. “Your trust fund. I’m signing it back over to you. Well, what’s left of it, anyway.”

  “You used this money to bail me out in the past, didn’t you?” asked Sebastian, skimming through the pages.

  “I certainly wasn’t using my own money, brother.”

  “Good. Thank you.” He pushed the papers back toward Lucian. “But I don’t want it. I don’t trust myself with access to that kind of money.”

  Lucian nodded slowly. “When you haven’t gambled for a year, then.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “No. I don’t want it.”

  “Fine. I’ll just wait until you marry Kayla and I’ll give it to her as a wedding gift.”

  “You’ll be holding on to that gift for a long time.” The words were bitter in his mouth. Bitter with truth. Bitter with disappointment. Bitter with self-loathing.

  Lucian’s expression turned to granite. “Oh, Christ. What did you do?”

  Sebastian dropped his elbows onto his knees, his body heavy with loss. Grief. “I had to protect her. I had to keep her safe. If she’s tied to me, there could always be someone out there coming after her. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves so much better than my fucked up life putting her in danger.” He looked up, forcing himself to meet his brother’s eyes. “I’m not worthy of her, Lucian, and I never will be. Not after what happened.”

  “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

  “I have to keep her safe!” The words exploded out of him, desperate and sharp. “I love her so fucking much that if something happened to her, I wouldn’t survive it.”

  Lucian studied him intently, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “How many times have I punched you in the face?”

  “Three.” Sebastian remembered every single time; Lucian had a nasty right hook.

  “It’s about to be four if you don’t get your head out of your fucking ass.”

  Sebastian said nothing, just shook his head. There was nothing left to say. This was his mess, and he couldn’t risk Kayla becoming collateral damage any more than she already had.

  “We will fix this, Bastian,” he said quietly. “We’ll deal with Coldhurst. We’ll make sure your debts are gone. And then you can live your life.”

  He shook his head again, self-loathing burning through him, making his bones ache. “No. I love her, and that means she needs to stay the fuck away from me. It’s the only way. It’s the right thing.”

  “I know you feel responsible for what happened to Kayla and Willa yesterday, but don’t you think breaking up with her is just another impulsive decision you’re going to come to regret in the near future?”

  “No. Pushing her away is the only smart thing I’ve done lately. She deserves so much better than me. This is the way it has to be.” A desperate determination to do something right for fucking once in his life gripped him.

  “Fine. We don’t have time to argue about this right now, but we’re not done talking about this. Let’s go over the plan for when Coldhurst arrives. I don’t want anyone getting shot today.”

  20

  Kayla stepped through the elevator doors and into Lucian’s penthouse, her home for the past week now. To say that it felt strange to be living with the brother of the man who’d broken her heart would be a massive understatement. But she had nowhere else to go. While she knew that they’d successfully paid off Coldhurst, Lucian was still determining if there was anyone else Sebastian owed money to. It wasn’t safe to go back to her apartment, and she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Willa was staying with her brother, Elliott, and from her late night chats with Willa on the phone, Kayla knew they both felt the same way about their old apartment. What had once been a cozy little home now felt violated.

  So she was stuck here for the time being, trailing after Lucian like a puppy for scraps of information about Sebastian. All she knew was that he was alive and safe. She didn’t know where he was staying, or if he’d gone back to Vermont. He hadn’t returned any of her texts or voicemails. He’d cut her off, completely.

  He might as well have cut off her arm because that probably would’ve hurt less, honestly. She’d spent the past week in a fog of grief. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t sleep. She was going through the motions and phoning it in big time at work, something she was sure Stammler had noticed. Before, bombing at work would’ve bothered her, but now, she didn’t care. It took all of her available energy just to get out of bed in the morning, take a shower and go to the office. She didn’t have the capacity for anything else. She hurt too much.

  “Am I being stupid?” she’d asked Willa one night on the phone. Neither of them could sleep, so it wasn’t unusual for them to talk in the middle of the night.

  “No, honey. You’re not being stupid. Give him time. He freaked out over what happened, but once the dust has settled, he’ll come around.”

  “I don’t even know if I want him to come around, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sebastian breaking up with me wasn’t just about what happened to us. It was about him punishing himself, about him not feeling worthy. Even if he does come around, how do I know that’s not going to happen again? I can’t make him feel worthy. Only he can make that choice, and what if he never chooses it? Not fully?”

  “I don’t know. I think he’s the only one who can really answer that question.”

  “And he won’t even answer my texts or take my calls, so.” She’d sighed heavily. “Maybe I let myself get caught up in the excitement of everything…the snowstorm and the amazing sex and…I don’t know anymore.” She hated that he’d made her doubt what they’d had. That he’d made her doubt herself and what she wanted.

  “Maybe he just needs some time.”

  But now, it had been a week and she hadn’t heard anything from him. She’d stopped texting and calling. There was no point, obviously.

  She headed into her room and changed into a pair of yoga pants and an old sweatshirt, putting her hair up in a bun. Before, she’d often had plans after work. Meeting people for drinks, going to dinner with friends, catching a movie with Willa. But none of that held any appeal, not because she was scared to go out—she wasn’t—but because she just wanted to be left alone. She was deep in the throes of wallowing.

  When she stepped into the kitchen, she was surprised to find Lucian there. He was hardly ever home, spending his time running his various businesses and doing God only knew what else.

  “Hi,” she said, feeling a little shy despite the fact that she’d been crashing with him for a week.

  “Kayla.” He studied her, his dark brown gaze intense. “Please don’t take this the wrong way darling, but you look terrible.”

  “Probably because I feel terrible.” She stepped around him and pulled down a mug.

  “For what it’s worth, so does he.”

  She whirled around, almost dropping the mug. “Because of us, or because he’s mired in hating himself?”

  “Oh, both. Definitely both.” He sighed. “I threatened to punch him when he told me what he’d done.”

  She laughed, but it sounded dry and brittle, even to her own ears. “I appreciate that. I think.” She tilted her head, studying him. “You’re very protective.”

  He nodded slowly. “I am. After the way we all grew up, someone had to be.”

  “He’s not talking to me, you know.” She set the fancy kettle on the stove and opened the cupboard where she’d found a stash of fancy tea, including Palais des Thés, a brand she’d fallen in love with during her time in France.

  “I know. He’s not trying to punish you. Only himself.”

/>   She selected a tea bag and dropped it into her mug. “Which isn’t doing anyone any good.”

  “Nope.” He sighed. “Give him time.”

  Something inside her snapped and she whirled on Lucian. “I’m not just going to wait around for him forever while he’s off whipping himself for something he couldn’t have prevented.” The words came out hot and angry, and her vision blurred as tears gathered.

  “No one’s asking you to.”

  “No, just expecting.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, especially after everything you’ve done.” Her throat thickened with unshed tears. She’d cried so much over the past several days that she was probably dehydrated at this point.

  “Kayla, listen to me. He loves you. But right now, he doesn’t love himself. And that’s not something anyone can help him with. But he’s come so far. I have to believe that he’ll realize the mistake he’s made in letting you go.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” She asked, her foolish heart hoping just the tiniest bit that Lucian was right.

  “Then I really will punch him in the face.”

  She shot him a half-hearted smile. “I don’t doubt it.”

  But as satisfying as it was to imagine the idiot getting decked by his brother, it did nothing to ease the ache deep inside her. She’d deviated from the plan, and look what had happened. She’d fallen in love with Mr. Wrong and all she had to show for it was a broken heart.

  Sebastian put his board and boots away in the pro room and then walked back to his cabin through the snow, needing to burn off the energy. Despite the long day he’d just put in—getting up at dawn to ride, a full day of lessons, including another session with Chase, another long ride at the end of the day—he felt restless. On edge. Like something was bubbling up inside him, getting hotter and harder to contain, like lava in a volcano. Like an itch that he knew he shouldn’t scratch.

  It was months after he’d hit rock bottom and he felt like he was right back where he’d started. All of those urges, the ones he’d worked so hard to tame, were back with a vengeance. All he could think about was doing something big and risky and dangerous that would give him a jolt of adrenaline and get him over the hump. Make him feel better, even if it was just for a little while. And even though he knew that path only held bad things, he kept thinking about it all the same.

  Once he reached the cabin, he took off his boots and coat and looked around, seeing Kayla everywhere he looked. The bed. The couch. In front of the fire. The kitchen table. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he imagined he could still smell her sexy French perfume that she loved so much. He closed his eyes against the pain crashing through him at losing her.

  But he hadn’t had a choice. He’d had to let her go. He’d been so wrong to think that he’d ever be worthy of someone like her. For a while, he’d felt like he could be, but then reality had slapped him upside the head and reminded him of who he truly was. Reminded him of the mess he’d made of his life, and how it would tarnish everything it touched, like rust on silver. Just eating up anything good and beautiful. Anything worth a damn.

  He stalked to the fridge and pulled the door open, his eyes roving over the contents. There was nothing he wanted. Nothing he needed.

  Fuck it. He was going to head into town and find a pub. Just one beer to take the edge off. It’d be fine. And besides, it wasn’t like it mattered if he slid back down to rock bottom. There was nothing in his life worth fighting for. Nothing that made him want to keep trying to be this man who was nothing but an illusion.

  He’d felt like the man he wanted to be with Kayla, but it hadn’t been real. He’d done a good job of convincing everyone, including himself, that it was, but it wasn’t. He was still the same fucked up asshole he’d been on the day he’d gotten marched out of Silver Stream’s offices. So it didn’t fucking matter if he had a beer. It just didn’t.

  Twenty minutes later, he stepped inside the Birchwood Tavern, one of the bars in town. There were several, but he knew that the resort staff mainly hung out at Dorothy’s Grill and the Village Pub, so he’d chosen to come here. Not because he was doing anything wrong. He just didn’t feel like company.

  The interior of the tavern was simple, with white wainscoting and gray walls, plain wood tables surrounded by scuffed up chairs, and a low ceiling criss-crossed by large beams. The bar took up one side of the space, and that was where he headed. He sat down at one of the high chairs facing the bar, nodding at the bar tender who was drying glasses. Several big screens above the bar were showing college basketball. Right. It was March Madness.

  The itchy feeling got even worse as he stared up at the screens, wondering what the odds were on Duke this year. There’d be no harm in just looking it up, right? He slipped his phone from his pocket, going still when he saw a new text message from Kayla. She’d texted and called a lot for the first several days, but then she’d stopped over a week ago. Until now.

  Kayla: I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing right now, but I just wanted you know that I’m thinking about you and I hope you’re okay. I accept that you’re doing what you think is best. I hope you think differently soon. I also wanted to let you know that I’m not at Lucian’s anymore. The sublet on Theo’s old apartment ended, so Willa and I are going to sublet it from him for the next couple of months. If you’re ever back in the city, you know where to find me.

  He shoved his phone back in his pocket, his chest tight.

  “What can I getcha?” asked the bartender, bracing his hands on the polished black surface.

  “A beer. Whatever you have on tap is fine,” he said, returning his attention to the basketball game. The restless feeling was still there, bigger than before. A minute later, the bartender set a pint glass down in front of him. A foamy head, golden liquid, bubbles streaming from the bottom to the top of the glass. He reached out and closed his fingers around the glass, letting the cold seep into his skin. He turned it a few times, leaving a ring of condensation on the bar.

  It was one beer. It was fine.

  “Sebastian?”

  He turned at the sound of his name. A large group of resort employees had just come in, including Lane and Bodhi. Lane frowned at him, her eyes bouncing between the beer and his hand. Her frown deepened into a scowl and she marched over, picked up the beer and handed it to Bodhi.

  “Oh, uh, thanks?” said Bodhi, looking confused as to why Lane had just shoved a drink in his hands.

  Lane sat down on the stool next to him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but whatever it is, it’s not worth doing this,” she said quietly, her expression tight. “You’ve been off for a while now, but I didn’t think…” She shook her head. “Are you okay?”

  Bodhi sat down on the other side of him, happily sipping Sebastian’s beer.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Really? You don’t want to talk about why you’ve been a miserable bastard at work and why I just found you in a bar, seconds away from throwing away everything you’ve spent the past several months working on?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Lane. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

  “Yes,” she said simply, folding her hands on the bar in front of her. “It does.” Then she waved down the bartender. “Two Cokes, please.” She stared up at the TV screen, seeming to settle in to her seat. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

  “Yeah, man. You’ve been, like, kind of a dick lately,” said Bodhi, taking another sip of the beer. “Did you read the Pema Chodron book?”

  “I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” Sebastian gritted through his teeth. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, needing the catharsis of jumping off, and Lane had just yanked him back, not letting him go until he told her why he was on the cliff in the first place. Frustration tugged at him, but along with it was someth
ing else. Something he recognized as a trickle of relief.

  “Fine. Then we’ll sit here in silence.” Lane crossed her arms, pretending to watch the basketball game.

  “Is this about that Kayla chick?” asked Bodhi. “I thought things were going good with you guys.”

  “They were. Until they weren’t.” Sebastian’s shoulders slumped and he felt deflated. Utterly and completely empty.

  “What happened?” asked Bodhi.

  Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath. Fighting back the itchiness inside him. He opened his mouth to tell them both to mind their own goddamned business but instead what came out was the entire story. Working with Kayla, getting fired. His knee injury and gambling addiction. Running into Kayla at the retreat and then rescuing her from the snowstorm. The home invasion. Breaking up with Kayla and taking care of his debts, then getting the hell out of the city again.

  “Is your brother like, a mob boss or something?” asked Bodhi, his eyes wide.

  Before he could answer, Lane cut in. “That’s your takeaway from all of that? Come on, dude. Focus.” She turned to Sebastian. “Tell me why you’re here.”

  “Because it doesn’t matter anymore. I tried to do better and I failed. Spectacularly. So it doesn’t matter. I don’t matter.”

  “Whoa, whoa,” said Bodhi quietly, leaning his elbows on the bar. “That’s just not true, dude.”

  “I know you’re feeling shitty right now,” said Lane, “but as cliché as it sounds this too shall pass. Everything is a season, and you’re in a crappy one right now. But don’t make it worse by punishing yourself for something you couldn’t have stopped.”

  “It sounds like you’ve come really far, man. Don’t let this derail you. What do we say when kids fall on the mountain?”

  “It doesn’t matter how many times you fall, only how many times you get up,” Sebastian muttered.