Page 37 of On the Edge

“Ugh, sure.” I hold my left arm out as far as I can, but I still can’t get us all in the shot. There are too many of them. Beyond the camera, Jackson’s eyes lock with mine. “Hey, Jackson,” I call out. “Can you come take a photo for us?”

For a second she doesn’t move or respond, just looks at me with fire burning in her eyes.

“Sure,” she says, all casual-like despite the fact that I can tell her reaction is anything but. She takes a few steps toward us and manages to take the phone from me without any skin-to-skin contact. She taps the phone screen a few times and then says, “Smile.”

She takes a few photos, turns the phone off, and hands it back to owner.So she was watching closely enough to know whose phone we were using. Interesting.“You’re holding up the line,” she tells the girls, then gives them the fakest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Sorry,” they chirp, an inconsistent chorus.

Jeff and I both sign their race team bibs that are on the table in front of us, and they move on.

“Crap!” I hear the blonde sigh when they slide down the line to Steve.

“What’s wrong?” another girl asks her.

“Every single photo is out of focus,” she growls.

My shoulders are most likely shaking with the repressed laughter that bubbles up in me, because I know damn well that you practically have totryto take an out of focus photo on a phone these days.

“Hey, Nate,” I hear the blonde girl call out to me. Pretending I didn’t hear her, I turn away to talk to the little girl who’s next in line. She has three things for me to sign, then her older brother starts talking to me about racing, and I’m able to forget the group of girls moving down the line.

The minute the last person in the line passes me, I’m up out of my seat searching for Jackson. She and Sierra aren’t sitting at that table anymore. I find Sierra across the room, taking pictures of families who are here for the event, but in glancing around, I don’t see Jackson anywhere. And then I catch sight of her green sweater with her dark hair like a curtain down her back as she slips through the door to the women’s restroom.

I cross the room as casually as I can, trying not to appear like I’m in a rush but also trying not to get caught up in conversations as I go. I somehow manage to get to the restrooms before she comes out, so I lean up against the wall and pull my phone out. I’m hoping that if anyone is watching me they think I’m just checking my texts, not waiting for my ex-girlfriend like a creep.

Her gasp when the bathroom door opens lets me know she wasn’t expecting to see me waiting for her. It’s such a raw, sexual sound that reminds me how hard it is to work with someone you used to have sex with. And reminds me how desperately I need us to get back to having sex before I lose my freaking mind.

“You’re avoiding me,” I say as I look up and meet her eyes. My pose is casual, leaning back against the wall with one knee bent and my foot propped on the wood paneling, my arm loosely holding my phone in front of me. But my statement is decidedlynotcasual. We are having this conversation, because I’m tired of her finding ways around it.

“We work together,” she replies. “I see you every day. How could I possibly avoid you?”

“See, that’s exactly what I mean. You’re physically present, but you are avoiding having any meaningful conversation with me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on, Nate. I told you the other day, I’ll be your PT—for this season at least. But we’re not going to be friends. Any chance of that died years ago.”

“Why won’t you at least let me explain what happened?” I ask, pushing off the wall and stepping closer to her. The hallway is narrow, so we are only a foot apart and she backs up, right into the wall.

“Because you made your choice, and I’ve dealt with it. I don’t want your reasoning. Yourwhydoesn’t matter anymore.”

“That makes no sense. It’s like you’re afraid you’ll have to forgive me.”

She swallows in that gulping way she does when she doesn’t want to respond.

“Youare, aren’t you?”

“Are what?” Another gulp.

“Afraid that I might have good reasons for leaving you, and you might have to forgive me.” I lean forward and place my left arm against the wall next to her head.

She looks up at me, meeting my eyes with her icy glare. “Nothing you say will make me forgive you, Nate. That’s why you don’t need to bother trying.” And with that, she ducks under my arm and races around the corner back into the crowded lodge.

* * *

Nate:Are you still awake?

Jackson:Yes, why?

Nate:My back is really stiff again. Can you take a look?

---