Page 19 of Worth the Rush
“Goodnight, Alder. Thank you for the pastries and coffee, or at least the offer to pay for them.”
“Anytime. Goodnight, Ivy. I’ll see you at work.” He shuts my door with a mischievous look, and I watch him jog back over to Thistle and Sage. I shake my head. The electricity ebbs in my body again when he isn’t near.This is going to be a thing.
“So what was that all about?” Winnie asks once I’m back inside the bakery.
“What was what about?” I answer with another question.
“You know what. I don’t remember you mentioning that the new manager you met was a long legged, incredibly gorgeous redhead. Did he mention that to you, Rhett?” She turns to my brother as she poses the question.
“I don’t remember hearing about her at all actually,” he tells her, slipping his arms around her waist and kissing her hair-covered temple. Seeing them find their way to each other is…I’m really happy for them.
“That’s because there was nothing to say,” I tell her and head to the back to grab the crates of bread and other delicious food items.
Following behind me, I hear her ask, “Was? So, is there something to tellnow?”
“No. I don’t know. I don’t really think she likes me much,” Istammer out, not wanting to share that I met Ivy on her first night in town. That information feels private somehow. I don’t remember thinking anything about my sex life was too private to share before now.
“Impossible. Everyone loves you,” she says offhandedly. Like it’s a given. Obvious. It’s nice to hear, but it’s also far from the truth. I can think of a whole family that holds me in the lowest regard. A small pang runs through me at that thought.
“What’s not to love?” I ask, effectively hiding the awful feelings that seem to creep in a bit easier at this time of year. A laugh sounds in my head. A deep booming laugh that I still hear in my sleep sometimes before it turns to screaming. “Is this everything? I need to get back home and get my gear ready for in the morning.”
“Yeah, that’s all for now,” Winnie confirms. “We’ll see you Tuesday night.” She hefts a bag to the top of the load I’m carrying. “These are for you,” she tells me.
“Thank you, Win.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. Winnie has always been family to me. I’ve kissed her cheek since she was thirteen. She’s always looked out for me; it doesn’t matter that she’s younger. Winnie exudes big-sister energy, and I’ve only ever thought of her that way. Thank God because I think Rhett really would murder me if I meant any of the flirty comments I made to her. He stands in the doorway now, and the vibe he’s giving isn’t all too far from that at the moment.
“Goodnight, little brother.” I flash him a grin.
“Good night, brother.” His words sound friendly, but I can hear theget losthidden underneath them. I chuckle.
“See you guys in a couple of days at AJ’s. Rhett, make sure you have a song prepared. You already know what mine will be,” I say, pushing the door open and walking to my Broncoparked on the side street. The snow has stopped for the moment, and we aren’t supposed to get a decent one for another couple of days. I’ve always watched the weather, needing to know when the best day for boarding would be, but it’s been something I do a lot more now. Is that a getting older thing? Or maybe a truths-of-the-trade type of thing?
I’ve seen a lot of people get stuck out in the weather on a hike or even a drive. Mom and Dad always taught us to be safe, but I may be on another level than my siblings now. The training for my certifications is ingrained in me now. I’m thankful for that though. It keeps me alert. I’m told being hypervigilant after an accident that results in loss is a trauma response. It may be, but it helps me sleep at night.
I start up my truck after stowing the bags in the passenger seat, looking out into the night. The whole town is lit up with Christmas lights. A perfect postcard. I see families walking in and out of the shops and restaurants. I’m happy with my life. I like where I am and what I do. It’s not lost on me that I’m thirty-six and haven’t had a serious relationship in…I don’t actually remember.
I’m not jealous of my brother and Winnie. I’m more than happy that Winnie will legally be my sister. I just feel something deep inside me sometimes. Something that feels an awful lot like loneliness. Loneliness—even when I’m surrounded by everyone I love. The same feeling when I wake up next to a woman who will be gone before the week is over. I don’t help myself out in that regard. I try not to make it a habit to sleep with anyone who lives in town, and I never take anyone to my place.
I put my truck in drive and start up the mountain. As I make the drive home my thoughts drift to a different December. It feelslike a lifetime ago. Back when dreams didn't wake me up in the middle of the night. Sometimes my fists are clenched so tight that I can still feel the rope in them. The burn as it slips. I clench my jaw against the pain that memory brings. I spent two weeks in the hospital. I look at my hands, ones that required skin grafts. I couldn’t hold anything in them for a month. I take my hand off the wheel and examine it. They look fine, completely normal even, the doctors and nurses were an amazing team. The only physical sign left of the accident is my hands sensitivity to temperature.
I shake my head and focus on the road. The sun was out again today, so it would be wise to take my own advice and stay alert. The winding road to the top of the mountain is comforting and familiar. The Edgemont comes into view, and I feel my shoulders start to relax. I pass the main lodge, it’s lights still on, and I notice there are holiday wreaths on the front doors as well as a large tree standing in the main lobby. We don’t usually go all out up here for Christmas. I never cared to put in the effort and the previous co-owner wasn’t on site very often.
I make the connection as I pass her cabin, also lit up with a wreath and a tree in view through the window. I slow, feeling like I may be intruding, but my curiosity wins out tonight. I catch a fleeting glimpse. She has her hair piled up on her head, and I can almost make out the column of her delicate neck. Okay, Alder. Keep it moving. I do and arrive back to my place exactly two minutes later. I like that she’s just down the road. Decorating her cabin and staying warm. I don’t want to analyze that too deeply.
I may not like to have reminders everywhere at my place, but I’m glad she does. I’m not sure why I care either way whenI don’t know her, and the few interactions we’ve had haven’t exactly been friend-worthy. Our first encounter was decidedly not friendly. It was more…and the second—well I will take a small amount of the blame for that one. Running into her was an honest mistake. She’ll have to figure out a way to get past it if we’re going to be working together. If we’re going to be spending time together outside of work as well. Of course my brother and meddling soon-to-be sister-in-law would invite her out with us to AJ’s.
It’s not me who’s hell bent on not spending time together between us, though, is it? I am starting to feel a little bit of remorse for still not mentioning that I don’t justworkat the lodge, I’m an owner. Along with her father I’ve surmised. As soon as I heard her last name it clicked for me. She’s my new business partner's daughter. A quick google search confirmed it. It’s not a problem for me, but how do you bring that up without her feeling like I’ve kept something from her? That feels like a problem.
Stepping into my A-frame cabin, tucked into the forest, I feel myself sag. I’m taking a run down Kettle Peak in the morning. It was Ray’s favorite. His name isn’t quite as searing as it used to be, but it’s still painful to think about. Time does that. It doesn’t heal all wounds like advertised, but it does give you perspective. And the opportunity for therapy. I snort into the empty room. Both have been crucial to my recovery.
After I gather all my gear, I’m in bed by nine o’clock. Just the way I like it. I lean over to turn my lamp out and the abandoned leather-bound journal catches my eye. I haven’t written anything for what feels like ages. I pick it up and read over my last few entries. Mostly small poems, some are just lines thatgot stuck in my head. I haven’t felt like writing much the last couple of months.
After Ray’s accident, I saw a therapist. It took some encouragement from my family, but it wasn’t hard for me to see that I needed some extra help to navigate life after loss. One of the tools that Dr. Sable and I agreed would be helpful was journaling. I’ve always enjoyed words and poetry, but it wasn’t until after I experienced this specific kind of pain that I decided this could be an outlet for my grief.
Tonight is different, though; tonight I’m feeling inspired. A pair of green eyes and an arched auburn brow are at the forefront of my mind, and I may not be able to shake them loose unless I get them out somehow. I grab my pen, and inked words start flowing over the page. One after another, after another.
It’s still dark when my alarm sounds in the morning. I stayed up later than anticipated, having had inspiration to write for the first time in a while. I stare at my ceiling for a moment before flipping my covers back and getting out of my bed. Standing, I stretch my limbs. Thirty-six isn’t old, but I’m starting to feel all the things I’ve put my body through over the years. I dress quickly, in a hurry to get out to Kettle Peak.
I drive over to the ski lift on the north side of the resort. No one’s ever out this early; it’s quiet and peaceful. I love this time of day. The sun is starting to come over the ridge as I make it to my destination. I run through my checklist of things in my backpack. I have my emergency kit, hydration pack, dried food,an extra flare, and my SAT phone along with my radio in case I’m needed for an emergency. Most boarders who are planning on a few runs down the mountain would view my preparedness as overkill. I would assume we’ve had wildly different experiences.
