The Winter Games

by Sharp, Dr. Rebecca

  Chuckling softly, we all moved into the living room and settled in.

  Whatever worries I had remaining after the introductions evaporated into satisfied moans of delight at the delicious array of brunch food—including taco dip—laid out on the coffee table. And it wasn’t long before that transformed into tearful laughter as the gifting game began, everyone vying for the Friends monopoly as soon as Chance opened it.

  There were bribes. Threats. Outright attempts at theft in order to make out with the game.

  And while it was impossible not to feel as though I’d been a part of this group forever, there was one thing that kept distracting my focus from their antics… the looks that the men gave their significant others.

  Whether it was the proper Canadian staring at his tomboy snowboarder, Channing. Emmett basking in Ally’s warmth or Chance enraptured by Jessa’s vibrant personality. Or Nick Frost melting for Tammy and his daughter.

  I was used to being looked at.

  With admiration.

  With skepticism.

  With intrigue.

  With hatred.

  It wasn’t their adoring looks that surprised me—what surprised me was that I recognized them, and I recognized them because it was how Kyle looked at me.

  With adoration.

  With pride.

  With love.

  “You alright?”

  I swallowed over the lump in my throat as Kyle’s rasped voice murmured in my ear. With the whole group, though there were a lot of seats, it wasn’t enough. Even if it had been, it wouldn’t have stopped Kyle from dragging me onto his lap so he could hold me.

  “Yeah,” I assured him. “I’m just going to grab another water. You want one?”

  His eyes scanned my face. “I’m okay.”

  I gave myself some space to process as I made my way into the kitchen, stopping for a few more bites of Jessa’s amazing taco dip along the way.

  Did Kyle really love me?

  It was a very large question and though the answer seemed equally as large and resounding, I still fought to believe it.

  Did I love him?

  Was that what this was? The desire to be vulnerable… to be cared for…

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

  My gaze snapped over to Nick Frost who calmly stood at the island, fixing another plate of food.

  “What?” My brow scrunched.

  “Thawing,” he smirked.

  I pulled out a new can of water and set it on the countertop to crack it open. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Ice Princess.”

  My body tightened.

  “They said I was cold, too,” he went on calmly. “It only hurts at first—and worse if you try to stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Warming up to someone… Letting the feelings in.” He turned to stare first at Tammy before his gaze slid to Kyle.

  “Easier to keep them out,” I said quietly.

  His eyes snapped back to me, one crystalline eyebrow arching up as he looked me over.

  “I’m surprised.” He grinned, and I almost didn’t want to ask, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  “By what?” I crossed my arms and notched my chin up, unsure of how I felt about Nick Frost or what he was about to say, and if I’d want to choke him for it.

  He chuckled. “I didn’t think the great Jaclyn Blanchard was interested in the easy way out.” My mouth opened in rebuttal but before I could say anything, he continued, “Doesn’t matter. Fire and ice might be opposites, but how they affect each other is one-directional; ice can’t put out a fire, but fire can sure as hell melt ice. And love…” He looked at Tammy again. “Love is one motherfucking hot flame.”

  And then he was gone, back to his love, and I was left standing and gaping and staring at mine.

  He was right. I could cage a lot of feelings but love melted every lock and key.

  “We wish you a Merry Sithmas and a happy New Year!”

  Tears streamed down my face as Ally and I collapsed against each other in a fit of laughter at the finish of our Star Wars Christmas carol.

  I was told it wasn’t a surprise that, after a round of Friends monopoly, Ally had suggested we do some karaoke caroling—apparently, karaoke was her jam.

  And somehow, YouTube videos of Star Wars-adapted Christmas carols was brought up… and it snowballed from there.

  Before I could recover, I felt strong arms wrap around my waist and yank me back down onto Kyle’s lap. From the look on his face, he was starting to regret sharing me with his friends because it meant less time he had me to himself.

  “You alright?” he growled against the shell of my ear.

  I nodded, still struggling to take a full breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever sung karaoke before.” I shifted and froze when he let out a strained grunt as my ass rubbed against his cock.

  “Yeah,” he said, strained. “Well, you look too damn good doing it wearing what’s supposed to be an ugly sweater.”

  I bit my lip and turned to meet his gaze. A mistake. As much fun as I was having, certain parts of me were right where he was. Hungry. Wanting.

  “Alright! I think we’re going to head out.” We turned at Channing’s announcement.

  “Us, too,” Kyle said and I squeaked as he stood up underneath me, holding me steady against him.

  “I bet,” Emmett said with a dash of snark in his tone. “Looks like Jac here brought out Mr. Model’s Dark Side.”

  The room chuckled with the subtle Star War’s reference.

  “I wasn’t sure he had one,” Jessa chimed, smiling.

  “At least he’s no longer stuck working with Hand Solo.” Chance snickered from the corner, making an obscene gesture with his hand.

  I covered my mouth, unsuccessfully biting back laughter that refused to be held inside.

  Of course, Kyle took it in stride with his soft shrug and half-tipped smile. “Thanks, guys.”

  A few minutes later after many good-byes, two bags of left-overs, and the gifts we’d won in the exchange, we were following Wyatt’s Range Rover down the driveway and on our way home.

  “Thank you,” I told him almost immediately. “Your friends are great. I don’t remember the last time I’ve laughed so hard.”

  Sadly, it was hard to even remember the last time I’d laughed. Or the last time I’d gone hours without thinking about the mountain or skiing or a competition—but my mind had been completely devoid of all of it today.

  And it felt so good.

  It was similar to the rush I felt immediately after a win. Stopped at the bottom of the mountain, my heart racing, my time appearing on the screen—there was an all-consuming rush of knowing that I’d won. Only this time, it wasn’t my body or my mind reveling in unfiltered joy, but my heart.

  “I’m glad.” He reached for my hand, holding it as he drove.

  I found I liked the way he always wanted my fingers locked with his during small, seemingly inconsequential moments, as though, even then, he couldn’t get enough.

  “It’s good to have good people in your life,” he went on, and I could only nod, knowing I’d thrown the good out with the bad after Evan died. “I’ll happily share them with you.”

  “How generous of you.”

  He chuckled. “It’s completely selfish of me,” he replied, staring at the road ahead as he murmured, “Because in order to share them, you’d have to stay with me.”

  My heart stumbled.

  “Are you bribing me to be your girlfriend, Mr. Masters?” I teased, unsure of how to handle a discussion of the future at the moment.

  It was a lot. What I felt for him was a lot.

  What I felt for him was everything.

  But I was a professional athlete. I wasn’t going to give up my dream—and that meant lots of traveling. Lots of long days and late nights.

  It meant more than a five-minute conversation on Christmas day.

  “I figured it was the safest bet,” he went along calmly, knowin
g just when and when not to push. “I thought about just kidnapping you, but I still remember you choking out a man, and I’d rather keep the blood-flow to my brain intact.”

  A smile broke on my face as I turned and bent over the center console toward him, placing my free hand on the top of his thigh.

  I licked my lips. “To your brain or to other parts of you?”

  His nostrils flared, his whole body tightening as the air between us grew dense with desire—desire that had been building slowly and steadily throughout the day.

  It wasn’t the instant lust we’d experienced the first night. This desire was built with a foundation of perseverance. Of chivalry and kindness. Of compassion. And of joy and laughter. It was all those things from every moment spent together that ignited the hottest flame inside me, melting me from the inside out.

  Nick was right.

  Love was a motherfucking hot flame.

  Maybe I wasn’t prepared to answer every question about what our future would entail, but I knew there was no more ice around my heart; I knew there was nothing keeping it frozen and unfeeling any longer. It beat loud and hot and strong… and all for him.

  Prince Charming.

  Jedi Masters.

  Kyle.

  I’d fallen in love with him.

  His fingers squeezed mine, the rapid thump of his pulse mirroring my own.

  “Where do you want to stay?” I asked breathlessly, sliding my hand up his leg to where his cock was straining against his jeans.

  I stared at his gorgeous face, watching his jaw muscle flex as his eyes darted to mine—daring and dangerous.

  When it came to my mind and my body, I knew what was good for me.

  And now, I finally knew what was good for my heart, too.

  “Told you, Jac, where you are is where I want to be,” he repeated those heart-throbbing words with a low, thick voice. Combined with his answer, the pool of need between my legs intensified and I crossed my legs to temper my own ache all the while my hand inched up further to tempt his.

  “Alright, let’s go to Marissa’s,” I chose, biting into my lip.

  “Jac…” he warned raggedly as my hand climbed up toward his arousal, the truck picking up speed to match his pulse.

  I grinned. “Just making sure I’m not cutting off any blood flow.”

  AFTER WHAT I WOULD ARGUABLY classify as two of the best days of my life, the cold front of reality that blew in after Christmas was unwelcome and unwanted.

  Someone in the parking lot the other night captured Jac’s confrontation with Andrea. With the World Cup set to start in two days, the video result had been posted online and savagely shared, blowing up what seemed like every spot on the news and social media.

  A sick coil tightened in my stomach, wondering if this was all planned. All staged. Wondering if Andrea had provoked her on purpose knowing it was being recorded.

  I wanted to wring that vindictive blonde’s little head.

  Me. Prince-fucking-Charming. Turns out, I was only charming until someone messed with my princess. Then, I was the king of your fucking nightmare.

  Of course, Jac held her head high. She’d carried this weight—this burden—for years. Her neck was probably the strongest muscle in her body. But after the last few days, after her confession and Christmas… I couldn’t not see the barely visible thread of shame that floated through the clear blue depths of her soul.

  It bothered her—hurt her. But the only thing she could do was compartmentalize it until after the race. The fact that she was practiced at that was both consoling and enraging at the same time.

  Reluctantly, I accompanied Jac to her locker to grab her equipment and then out to the base lifts and, while no one approached her, there were people pointing and whispering everywhere. It felt somber—letting her step out of my arms to resume her training. But I had to.

  I kissed Jac like kissing her could erase everything being whispered on the slopes. She smiled like she was too strong to care, but the way she lingered in my hold told me otherwise.

  Unwilling to leave the mountain—and her—right away, I decided to head back to the Patrol building and drop off my bag at my own locker so it would be waiting for me after the gym.

  As I approached the building, I noticed the door was already ajar and I heard hushed voices coming from inside. With my hand on the doorknob, I pushed a little more until I could hear what was being said.

  “Everyone has been using their designated lockers… as planned.”

  “And what about my key?”

  I dragged in a breath. No one had been here a few minutes ago when Jac and I were here. And why would someone be whispering about lockers? Or their key?

  If pride could be present in a whisper, it was there when the man replied, “I have the only master keycard that will unlock all of the lockers in case of an emergency.”

  “I’ll need you to give it to me.”

  It was a man and a woman speaking, and though their voices were whispered I just knew—in the darkest pit of my gut that rolled with dread and rage—who the fuck was talking and what they were talking about.

  “I can’t. I only have one. I can’t be caught without it.”

  “But, honey, I really need that card,” the woman whined softly.

  My fist came up in front of my mouth as I heard a strangled groan. I couldn’t tell which person it was coming from.

  “I can meet you here tomorrow night, doll,” he offered. “But you’ll have to be quick.”

  Fuck. I needed to know what the hell was happening—what the hell was being planned for tomorrow night.

  “Oh, I will. I only need to change a few small things—”

  I knew who was plotting, but I needed to see it for myself. I needed to see them with my own fucking eyes before I called Jackson Pyle. Now, I had proof. Hell, I was tempted to call when the video leaked this morning, but after this… Yeah, no fucking way was I not having him investigate, not when something needed to be ‘changed’ in the middle of the night.

  The door slammed open wide as I walked into the room, pretending like I hadn’t heard anything.

  “Oh,” I stopped, faking surprise. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

  I kept my expression calm and clear, like pure snow over the mountain of rage that brewed underneath.

  “We were—uhh—” Jeff tripped and stumbled, probably because Andrea had just discreetly slipped her hand from where it was planted on the front of his pants—a gesture I also pretended to be oblivious of.

  “I just wanted to confirm my skis were going to be safe overnight,” she said as a faked feline smile clawed up her face. “After the last time I competed against your girlfriend,” she paused dramatically. “I don’t want to take any chances of something happening to my equipment.”

  I adjusted my bag on my shoulder to do something other than force her to admit the truth. But even if I could force it from her, who the fuck knew what she would do? She’d waited five years until they were on the same mountain again to pull this shit, confronting her now would probably push the psycho bitch over the edge.

  “I assured her that her skis are in the first round to be checked and will be securely locked with keycard access that only she and the judges will have,” Jeff inserted with a smile like he was proud to have finally contributed to the conversation.

  “Thank you,” she said demurely to him before approaching me. “I hope you realize soon that everything Jaclyn touches eventually turns to dust.” When her palm pressed against my chest, even through the layers of clothes, it felt like acid being poured over me. Vile, vindictive acid. “I’d hate for that to happen to you.”

  Her false concern made me sick. I barely forced out a nod just to get her away from me before I turned to Jeff. But when I did, he was gone.

  It didn’t matter. If he was in bed with her—figuratively and literally—then he deserved to fall for whatever she’d wooed him into doing. I still didn’t have proof, but I was going to.


  As their conversation sunk in, it occurred to me that Andrea had asked for the universal key—and that meant she was upping her game this time. Self-sabotage wasn’t good enough. Playing the victim wasn’t good enough. This time she was out to physically harm Jac.

  When I stepped back outside, Jac was nowhere to be seen. My jaw tensed with the need to tell her everything I’d heard—and tell her that there was no question anymore. It wasn’t just about protecting her, it was about stopping this once and for all so Jac wouldn’t be tormented at every goddamn turn.

  Slamming the door of my truck shut, the pick-up roared to life as I drove toward my apartment. I messaged Jac that I needed to talk to her, but she was out on the slopes; she wouldn’t check her phone until later, and that meant I was making the executive decision.

  I gritted my teeth. I told her I wouldn’t do anything unless things got worse. Well, the flurries of my fear had just turned into an avalanche of malicious intent, and I was going to make good on the second half of that promise. I wasn’t going to let Andrea and whatever shitstorm she was planning come to pass. Not if I could do something about it.

  Not caring that it was quarter to seven in the morning, as soon as I got out onto the main road, I pulled out the PI’s card Frost had given me and dialed the number.

  “Hello,” the rasped voice answered just after the first ring, as though he’d been waiting for my call.

  “Hi, my name is Kyle Masters. I’m calling for Jackson Pyle,” I greeted, hearing the tension burning in my voice.

  “Speaking.”

  Damn, the man sounded like it was the middle of the day for him.

  I cleared my throat. “I have a situation that I’d like to discuss with you. Nick Frost gave me your card.”

  “When and where can you meet? I don’t discuss specifics over the phone,” the hard voice replied.

  “One o’clock. I can meet you at Cup of Joe at the resort.”

  “I’ll see you at thirteen hundred.” Click.

  I tossed my phone into the cupholder. No turning back now.

  The next few hours passed in a monotony of movements. I grabbed a change of clothes from my apartment before heading to the gym for my first appointment. Thank fuck I was on top of my schedule planning because it took all my available focus to read off the workouts I had templated for each of my patients this morning.