Page 20 of The Christmas Playbook
My brows furrow, and I lean closer. “Are you okay?”
Her lips press into a thin line. “I’m totally fine.”
Oh, boy. It’s worse than I thought.
I crane around, and the chair swings a bit. Mira makes a choking noise, but I temporarily ignore it in the attempt to spot her sister and brother-in-law. Her whole family is irritating, but judging by Mira’s complete and utter lack of snowboarding knowledge, she’s never beenon the slopes. Even though they apparently do this sort of holiday every winter. Even though she literally grew up around these people.
I can’t see much beyond the two behind us, and neither one appears to hold Cammie and what’s-his-face. When I turn backaround, Mira’s goggles are off, and her eyes are squeezed shut tight. Her whole face is scrunched.
“Oh, fuck.” It dawns on me. “You’re afraid of heights.”
“Nope,” she squeaks.
“Liar.” I scoot closer, causing our chair to bounce. I haul her toward me, into the center of the long chair. And it’sfine, because suddenly we’re pressed together from hip to knee.
Her knee anyway, since she’s a lot shorter.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and with my other hand, I bring her face toward my chest. “Breathe with me, and I’ll tell you when you can look.”
Her body trembles slightly, but she does what I say. I exaggerate the rise and fall of my chest, sucking in deep breaths for her to mimic. When she does, satisfaction—and a thread of worry—fills my chest. I rub her arm and lift my gaze away from the top of her helmet to scope out the run beneath us. It’s a black diamond, and we’re passing a section of moguls. It’s probably for the best that she doesn’t see this portion. No need to freak her out more.
Step one: get her safely off the lift.
Step two: figure out how to get her down the mountain without killing both of us…or further damaging her reputation with her family.
I know why she rose to the challenge set out by her sister. It seems like the whole family is hell-bent on antagonizing her—or ignoring her.
My parents wouldnever. Sure, my mom often kicked me out of the house as a kid, but that was because I was an insufferable ball of energy and she worked from home. When we were home from school or off for the summer, she got the short end of the stick.
Luckily, we all survived, and my relationship with my parents is solid. It’s why they’re sad I’m not going to be home forChristmas, even if they understood the need for this trip. Iamgoing pro. I will get drafted, and my life will be a whole lot different in a few years.
Hell, a fewmonths.
When we were planning this trip, piled around the living room in November, exhausted from midterms, hope bubbled through me. My friends were right in front of my face, but I missed them, nonetheless.
Now, locked into this ruse with Mira, I’m still not getting my fill of them. But how would they react if I showed up with her in tow? I can’t lie to them. It took everything in me to not blurt it out at dinner last night when they asked how my hot tub was treating me.
Ugh.
“Okay,” I eventually say. “We’re going to have to get off in a minute. I want you to copy me, all right?”
Her head bobbles against my chest with her nod.
“Wait just a second, we’re still a bit high. Then you can open your eyes.” I take a deep breath. “Then we’re gonna put this bar up, scootch to the edge of the seat kind of at an angle so when the ramp comes, we can hop off and slide down.”
This isn’t going to be pretty.
“I’ll help you. Okay?”
“Yeah,” she manages.
The lift descends, and I tell her when it’s okay to open her eyes. She raises her head and blinks, meeting my gaze then quickly glancing around.
“Got it. This is totally fine.” She clears her throat.
The bar comes up, and we shift.
“Put your back foot in front of the binding.” I put my hand on her hip. “Yep, just like that.”
