Page 25 of One Last Run

Quickly shaking her head, Danica’s cheeks flushed once more. “No, not at all.”

“Not at all or like, not yet?” Kiera clarified, skepticism in her voice.

“Not at all,” Danica said firmly. If she said it aloud, she could begin to believe it.

Kiera nodded, staring her down for what was quickly becoming an uncomfortable amount of time.

Danica held up her hands in surrender. “Seriously, nothing was going on.”

“Why were you standing so close if nothing was happening?” Kiera continued, her brow raised.

“Just talking,” Danica said, clearly a lie, and she watched Kiera contemplate calling her on it for a moment.

“If you say so.” Kiera finally shook her head and sighed, leaning in to hug Danica good night.

Danica walked into her room, feeling relief wash over her as she shut the door behind her. Kiera had made it seem like her surprised presence had been the only thing preventing them from full-on making out in the hallway. If Kiera hadn’t interrupted them, what might have happened? Danica touched her lower lip, then took her phone out of her pocket and sat down in the chair near the window. With her room lights off, she could see out over Mountain Village, the snowcats grooming the trails in the darkness. Her body was unexpectedly sore as she settled in the chair, holding up her phone to pull up Eddie’s contact. Her thumb gently tapped the red text of the “Block Caller” button.

The tension that had been dissipating ever since she’d butchered Shania Twain’s girl power anthem on stage was beginning to return. If Kiera hadn’t shown up… she knew exactly what would have happened? She could picture the hungry, urgent kiss, Pete pressing her back into the wall, her hands roaming freely over Danica’s body.

Heat flushed in her cheeks and she touched the cool window to snap herself out of that daydream.

She turned off her phone and tossed it on her nightstand, walking into the en suite to wash her face and brush her teeth. Those moments with Pete still felt surreal. One stolen moment in a bar and she was ready to dive right in. Maybe shewasa little too drunk.

Her reflection in the dark mirror as she dried her face caught her off guard. She stared at her reflection while she washed her face and did her skincare, surprised that for the first time in a long time, she recognized herself again. How long had sheavoided looking at herself before, not ready to face the tired, restless, unfulfilled person staring back at her?

She wiped the water from the counter, now a habit after Eddie always complained about her always making a mess when she washed her face. She changed into pajamas and climbed into bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. It still sometimes felt strange to crawl into bed and not have Eddie beside her, usually ignoring her until he fell asleep while reading some deeply stupid self-help book. She pictured Eddie now, alone in the quiet of their old bedroom, the only sound the gentle turning of pages as he read yet another book promising to unveil the true path to self-discovery. That image did make her feel slightly bad, but not bad enough to make her want to cry. It had taken her years to get over Pete, years of crying and feeling miserable. Why did it seem like there had been nothing to get over with Eddie?

CHAPTER 10

PETE

Ridingon the high of a good work call, Pete glanced at the clock on her laptop, which was precariously balanced on her knees. It was just after 3 a.m. — she'd made sure the call time was convenient for Budi, her Balinese contact, but was seriously regretting making it such an odd hour for herself. Now that she was feeling excited and hopeful for the future, it was hard to turn that off and go to sleep. Her time in Bali had been incredible, and she was beyond thrilled to be able to continue working with the organization she'd partnered with.

Pete stretched, her fingertips grazing the rails of the top bunk immediately above her as she looked around her room. Maybe she should take a melatonin gummy and try for a few hours of sleep before Izzy inevitably made her wake up and hit the slopes again.

She made a few quick notes on her computer before setting it aside, standing, and stretching the tightness in her legs. Snowboarding all day was tiring enough, but trying to stand and balance another person on the snow in stiff snowboarding bootswas a whole different level of exhausting. Despite the soreness, spending that time with Danica felt incredible.

Her stomach grumbled, and she mentally calculated that it'd been over seven hours since she'd had anything other than alcohol. Her mouth felt a bit sticky at the thought, and she grabbed her water bottle. What really sounded good was ice cream, and she was in luck, because there was some in the freezer from a local creamery in town. That would hit the spot. She grabbed a hoodie and slipped out of her room and up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid waking anyone else up in the house.

A light from the living room made her pause, and then the light... turned toward her? Pete squinted, trying to make out what she was seeing and also avoid being blinded. Her hand shielded her eyes and she made a confused noise halfway betweenhuhandwhy.

"Sorry," a voice said in a hushed whisper. Danica's voice. A wave of nervous excitement washed over her at the sight of Danica, yet she composed herself with a deep breath, feigning nonchalance.

The light moved, pointing down, and Pete stepped closer, her eyes adjusting to find Danica sitting on the couch wearing glasses, working on her cross stitch by the light of a headlamp.

"I didn't want to wake anyone by turning on a light," Danica explained as she saw Pete's confusion. "But I had this headlamp and it's been working okay." She pushed at the bridge of her glasses self-consciously.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," Pete said, stuffing her hands into her hoodie pocket awkwardly.

"They're just readers. Cross stitch is small," Danica said, brushing a few strands of her chestnut hair away from her face.

"Wow, Grandma Wendell," Pete teased. "What are you doing up?"

"My sleep schedule is a little weird," Danica said, shifting in her seat. "Working overnights has kind of made it hard for me to sleep more than a few hours at a time, even on my days off. That, and 2 a.m. seems to be some kind of witching hour for my brain. It decides to be awake almost every night between 2 a.m. and 4 a.m."

"That sounds awful. Is that like a menopause thing?" Pete asked, wanting to recant the question immediately.

"First of all, how dare you?" Danica said, looking up at her. "Why do people keep asking me that? We're 37. I know I may be wearing readers and cross stitching at 3 a.m., but I'm not on my deathbed just yet."

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