Page 17 of Avalanche
“If there’s anything I can do, you’ll let me know, right?” My question comes out thin, weighted by the uncomfortable realization that I’m probably the least equipped person here to help him with what he’s going through.
What advice can I give him, when my own parents haven’t spoken to me in months?
Antoine looks up, those green eyes boring into mine with the intensity of someone searching for answers. His tongue darts out, tracing the remnants of maple syrup left on his lips.
“I mean it,” I tell him, offering him what I hope is a comforting smile. My cheeks protest at the movement. “I’m sure these guys feel the same. We’re…”
I pause, at a loss for what to say.
Family.
That is what Seth would say, if he was here. He’d smile around at us all and say we were family. And he’d mean it too. Not the type of family that imposes ultimatums, that pushes you into a box framed of their ideas of what you ought to be, then cuts you loose when you grow into something else.
A real family.
I glance at Liam and Matty hopefully, silently begging them to find the words to explain what we are, the six of us. More than friends. Certainly, more than roommates. Lovers, I guess, but that doesn’t describe the bond that has been growing between us all, even before I first stole that drunken kiss from Eddie on those ice coated steps. That was growing well before Liam and Antoine pressed me between them in the hot tub.
“You guys mean the world to me.” My gaze drops to the table, as if I can see the words I’ve just spoken scattered across the scratched wood, glaringly clichéd.
You mean the world to me. What does that even mean? And no one ever really means it, do they? No one really loves anyone as much as their entire world, at least not when they say that. It’s the sort of exaggerated statement people throw around like you’re the best or I’d kill for a piece of cake.
Except I do mean it.
I almost lost these guys on that mountain that day. It could have been them buried in the snow. For a few excruciating hours, I’d felt my entire world crumbling, peeling away like ice and rock from that mountainside and I knew. I knew I would never, ever recover from losing them.
Because I’m in love with them.
Not the light sort of love that dances like champagne bubbles on the edge of a glass, beautiful but quick to dissipate. Sweet on the lips and then gone.
No, this is the etched-in-your-bones sort of love, heavy and dangerous. Because it has the capacity to rip everything apart.
I swallow, burnt pancake and maple syrup still lingering on my tongue.
“Thank you.” Antoine reaches across the table to take my hand, just like I took his earlier.
I dare a glance up at him, only to be hit with a look that reaches deep behind my ribs, making my breath stutter. That look, it says everything that my ineloquent words couldn’t.
I see you, it seems to say.
By the time we finish breakfast, the winter sun has burnt away the lingering fog and is streaming in through a grime-streaked window, offering a lackluster sort of warmth to the already overheated condo. Antoine and I do the dishes, both of us silent as we stand shoulder-to-shoulder at the sink, me washing and him drying.
I don’t mention going out to train again. I probably should. Should be making the most of this rare day off to keep pushing toward my goal. But I am tired, even if I won’t ever admit it to Liam. And more than that, the thought of leaving Antoine on a day like today… it just seems wrong.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. My stomach swoops just like it always does when I get a text, my mind racing through what ifs and maybe nows and things will be different, before invariably settling on the disappointment of reality. The vibration is quickly followed by nearly simultaneous pings, and the discomfort morphs into a more comfortable sort of anticipation when I realize it must be Seth or Eddie on our group chat.
“Hah.” Liam barks out a laugh from the living room, where he and Matty are settled on the couch in front of the TV, watching some overly chipper weekday morning news program. “Sucker couldn’t backline after all.” Our phones ping again and Liam lets out another laugh.
“Oh man, he’s pissed,” Liam announces, sounding delighted. “Positively fuming.”
“Poor Eddie,” Matty chuckles, but he doesn’t sound particularly sorry either.
“What did he say?” I call out from the kitchen, my hands deep in soapy water, my phone vibrating in my back pocket.
Eddie’s texts are some of my favorites. He barely messages in our group chat, but when he does it’s a flurry of sharp wit and cutting comments that have my sides aching with laughter.
Liam and Matty just laugh in response. Antoine and I share a look of annoyance before Antoine throws the dish towel on the counter and pulls out his own phone.
“He says,” Antoine clears his throat, his cheek twitching with amusement as he stares at his phone. “‘Bastards at ski school are making me work, fucking bitches. Someone needs to form a union?—’”
