The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  “Fine.” He laughed. “I guess we’ll just have to see.” He stopped abruptly and I heard Jessa in the background.

  She took the phone from him because it was her voice that spoke next. “Nick?”

  “Yeah?” I said cautiously.

  “Don’t hurt her,” she demanded fiercely. Took only a second to realize that Tammy had told her what happened between the two of us. Pride didn’t know, but Jessa did. “She’s stronger than the rest of us combined, but no one can hold up the world forever. Don’t be the reason she breaks.”

  My fist clenched, recalling that those might have been the very warnings I’d given Tammy. I didn’t need another lecture about how the bad boy needed to stay away from the good girl.

  “Don’t worry, Jessa. I’m already dealing with one crumbling world. I don’t plan on dragging hers down with me,” I replied tightly. “I wouldn’t touch her if she was the goddamn genie who could make all my wishes come true.”

  I wouldn’t touch her because she just happened to be each and every one of those wishes.

  “I said don’t hurt her,” she murmured. “Not don’t touch her…”

  Fuck.

  I slammed my phone down on the counter and carried my laptop over to the couch. Time to get lost in newsletters for the next few hours before I had to go escort Miss Priss out.

  “It is not what we think or feel that makes us who we are. It is what we do.”

  —Jane Austen, Sense & Sensibility

  HE WAS SO COLD IT hurt.

  For the entire week, the thought of Nick made every one of my cells itch painfully—like when you come inside from the freezing cold and your blood is trying to warm your extremities back from the bitter edge.

  That is where I lived—those moments where my body was almost coming back to life even though it never made it there.

  My saving grace was Lila’s warmth.

  “Mammy, do you have to go?” I remembered her sweetly sad little face as I left earlier even though the best that I could do was remind her that I would be back on Monday.

  She was my reprieve away from the rest of life that continued to move at break-neck pace ahead—both good and bad.

  True to her promise—or was it a threat?—Jessa had gone with me to my first chemo appointment yesterday. Usually, chemo happens after surgery, but in my case, Dr. Rohatgi decided that the neo-adjuvant therapy was warranted.

  Jessa and I didn’t talk about the cancer or the chemo. Instead, we walked into the hospital chatting about how Chance and Channing had finalized the logo and branding for The Mountain Academy; Wyatt had given them free rein to decide on the name. We talked about how, yesterday, Jessa and Ally had been roped into designing all their letterhead and stationary and working with a local digital media company to get the website up and running.

  Jessa waited while I was served the anti-cancer cocktail, straight-up and neat. And then, on the way out, Ally called, squealing with excitement, because Emmett had just finished the first mock-up board from one of her designs; all new students were going to be provided with their own custom board or skis and Ally was responsible for the graphics for each and every one.

  They did their best to make me feel like nothing was changing—that cancer wasn’t affecting my life in the ways that mattered.

  I loved them for it. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that sometimes fear is worse than the disease.

  Going to work at Nick’s later that day hadn’t been so bad, and I’d been hopeful; Dr. Rohatgi said that the dosages of Paraplatin and Taxol I was receiving now were minimal compared to what I would be treated with after surgery. My optimism at my body’s reaction was disabused when I woke up this morning feeling the full effects of lethargy layered with hopelessness. Dragging myself from bed, a cup of green tea and demanding standards handed me a mask of normalcy to face Nick for another week.

  His eyes questioned, but his mouth stayed silent, closing the door behind me like he had every day this week, leaving Lila and me to our fun. He didn’t touch me again. He didn’t come close to me again. Maybe my disease had left a trace. Maybe I was wrong about the way he wanted me. Now, I could only see remnants of the desire that he’d unleashed on me—like the frost just hints at the coldness of the night before. I longed to see it again; I longed for it like lungs trapped under water long for air.

  When he walked me to the front door at the end of the day, I wasn’t granted the reprieve of silence anymore.

  “You don’t look good,” he said bluntly, his eyes flicking over me again.

  “And you have a way with words,” I replied just as candidly. “Must be how you charmed every girl in high school.”

  I winced. I wanted to sound strong and sassy, but instead the words came out tinted green with jealousy.

  “Well, you look like you haven’t slept in weeks. I can’t afford for you to be sick. Go home and get some rest,” he demanded.

  “Yes, boss,” I teased softly, my head starting to feel fuzzy. “Have a good weekend.”

  I barely caught his nod as I walked outside, breathing in the clean air. And then I heard the door shut behind me.

  With a large sigh, I climbed into my car just as my phone began to ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, how are you feeling?” Jessa asked immediately.

  “I’m okay,” I said, mustering a lift to my voice.

  “Are we still on for tonight?” she asked.

  I bit my lip to stop a groan. Yesterday, she’d invited me to go with Chance and her to Peak’s Pub to see Kyle and his band play again. She’d been going on that keeping myself cooped up in my apartment wasn’t doing myself any favors—that it was important for me to get out and enjoy myself a little bit especially with everything going on.

  She hadn’t guilted me into going; no, that I’d managed to do all on my own. Later, I convinced myself that if it wasn’t a distraction from my health, it was at least a distraction from Nick… which, in all, might have been more important.

  And before I could tell her that I was actually feeling a little drained, she added, “Because Chance just told me that he and Wyatt are going to be much longer than they thought going through the preliminary responses and he’s not going to make it. But I told Kyle I’d be there so I’m still going to go.”

  Yes, I was tired. No, I was not letting my friend go by herself.

  “Yeah, we are still on,” I replied, steeling myself for the effort that lay ahead of me.

  It was eleven o’clock and only intermission; I wasn’t sure how much longer I could last.

  I went home and changed into jeans and a white tight scoop-neck tee topped with a loose gray cardigan, and black ankle boots. Something a little bit better than my leggings and over-sized sweaters, I told myself.

  I looked for Jessa. She’d gone to the bar to get another gin and tonic for herself and an order of mozzarella sticks for the two of us to share. Maybe the snack would bring me back to life for the last hour.

  I loved live music, I really did, but I was fading fast. I hated feeling like the cancer—the chemo—was winning.

  “Hey, Tammy!”

  My head darted over just as Kyle walked up to our table with a huge smile on his face. The turn-out for this show was probably double what it had been a few weeks ago; he had every reason to be beaming.

  “Hi, Kyle,” I said with a smile, forcing it to climb higher on my face.

  “Thank you so much for coming. I’m so pumped that you’re here—Jessa didn’t even say anything.” He pulled me in for a hug which I awkwardly returned.

  Why would she? Unless…

  Gosh, I hoped she wasn’t trying to set me up with Kyle…

  I bit back a groan. “Of course! You guys are awesome and the crowd tonight is incredible. I’m sure you must be thrilled.”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. Really glad you’re here—that you guys could make it, I mean.” He smiled again—the kind of smile that I could just picture Ally referring t
o as ‘panty-melting,’ except that I didn’t feel anything.

  Whereas Nick could growl two words at me, punctuated with his cold smirk, and I would be melting faster than a snowman in summer.

  I shook my head. This was what happened when you worked with a six-year-old girl: Frozen references. Everywhere.

  “Jessa should be back any minute. She went to the bar to check on our order,” I offered with an anxious smile. I knew he was looking at my not-so-baggy attire appreciatively and I felt guilty because Kyle was so great and I was sure that most girls would be glad for his attention, but I wasn’t most girls.

  We don’t know how to do this, my body cautioned.

  We don’t want to do this with him, insisted my heart.

  Cancer aside, it seemed the only person I wanted to feel attractive to was my cold, irritable boss.

  “Do you mind if I take a seat?” he asked, eyeing the stool next to mine. “My feet could use a break.” He checked his watch; the Wanderers were going back on in a few minutes.

  “Sure,” I answered. As he sat, I saw a flash of pink over his head. “Oh, it looks like Jessa is on her way ba…ck…”

  And she was. With Chance. And Nick.

  I sat paralyzed, seeing the anger that brewed calmly in his eyes.

  “Kyle!” Jessa exclaimed, giving him a quick hug before instantly returning to Chance’s arms. “What a great show tonight! You guys are killing it!”

  “Sorry, I missed the beginning. Work shit,” Chance grumbled. The two of them were cool now that Chance had indisputably staked his claim to Jessa—and the fact that Jessa only had eyes for him.

  “Thanks, guys,” Kyle grinned. “Not a problem. We have a few great originals coming up after the break.”

  Chance murmured a greeting to me before introducing Nick to Kyle, unsure if they had really met the last time we’d been to the show. Nick made no move to give him a warm welcome—shaking his hand like he could kill him with a flick of his wrist and a look that said he was tempted.

  “Alright, guys,” Kyle said. “I gotta get back up there. Thanks for the support!” And then turning to me, added, “Maybe I’ll see you after?”

  I almost choked. Thankfully, my nod that probably looked like a seizure hid it well.

  The frigid and immoveable possessiveness in Nick’s stare slowly hardened every cell in my body and turned me to ice. It burned on the inside but branded me on the outside. His. Even though he’d made a point to stay away.

  I forced my eyes to leave his, saying, “How is everything going, Chance?”

  I tried to focus as he eagerly went off to explain everything that he and Wyatt had been working on tonight. I caught words here and there—students, applications, opening, teachers.

  But my head was so fuzzy… And Nick’s continued stare didn’t help.

  A few loud taps on the bass drum restarted reality as Chance finished with, “I’m going to grab a drink. Anyone want anything?”

  “Could I just get another water?” I asked quietly.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll come with you, babe. I need to pee anyway.” Jessa hopped back down from the stool and Chance let her lead the way, his hand not-so-subtly resting on her butt as she began to move.

  They’d left me. With him. My boss. My chaos.

  “I-I didn’t expect to see you again today,” I murmured dumbly. Nice, Tam…

  He practically threw the stool that Kyle had been sitting on to the side so that he could come and stand right in front of me, his anger sparking dangerously off every hard inch.

  What was between us was like oxygen—necessary, life-giving, and yet incredibly combustible.

  I shivered as my nipples pebbled against my bra, eager for him to be closer and desperate for his touch.

  “I told you to go home and rest,” Nick growled at me, icicles dripping dangerously in his eyes. “Christ, you look like you’re about to fall off of that fucking stool.”

  For the first time all night, my body no longer felt tired and worn down from all the medications and the emotions. I was out trying to forget about him, and he wanted me home alone and suffering the ache that wouldn’t let up.

  “I will,” I replied as calmly as I could, trying to stop my body from the way it wanted to tip forward into him. “But, Jessa said she was going to come alone and I couldn’t let her do that.”

  “Jessa—” He stopped as his hand speared through his hair. “Jessa is a big girl. She would have been fine.”

  “I’m fine, Nick. Thank you.” It was a lie. My head was so fuzzy.

  “You are not fine. You look like shit.” He leaned in even closer. From certain angles, I’m sure people would think that we were kissing. Instead, my eyes struggled to stay open as I felt the moist warmth of his breath on my lips. “I’m taking you home.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a command—soft, but deadly if disobeyed.

  I stared back, wanting to protest. We were locked in this invisible bubble—he and I. A closed system where we fought for control. Only, I was order and he was entropy; he enticed my organized universe toward disorder, disintegration, and chaos.

  Nick was a force of nature—and I was fighting against him; it was another battle that I was going to lose.

  “Jessa.” I gaped as he commanded her attention the second she and Chance returned to the table. “Tammy needs to go home. I’m going to take her.”

  I sat stunned as Jessa glared at him before looking to me for confirmation.

  “I-I’m just tired, Jess. It’s fine. I don’t want you to miss the rest of the show,” I answered meekly.

  As much as I didn’t like the fact that I was giving in, I wanted to.

  And not just because I was tired and wanted to go home. I wanted to be near him, and I was too weary to fight with my heart any longer.

  I didn’t touch her even though my fingers itched to like they were covered in fucking poison ivy as I followed her out to my truck.

  All week I’d maintained the casual coldness between us. But yesterday, she’d come to work like she’d just taken a shot of vodka (even though hell would freeze over before that ever happened)—mellowed and sad. I wanted to know why she looked like she was watching the world slowly crumble around her, but I followed our rules. No questions. I couldn’t afford questions. Not when I was this close.

  Then this morning, she looked even worse. A sleepless melancholy. I couldn’t stop myself from instructing her to get some rest.

  And then she didn’t fucking listen.

  Sophia wasn’t even supposed to work tonight, and I was planning on staying home. Then a phone call from Chance informed me that he was on his way to meet Jessa and Tammy. At eleven o’clock. At a bar.

  What the fuck was she thinking?

  “What the hell were you thinking?” I ground out as soon as I shut my door, turning on my truck.

  “What do you mean?” she mumbled.

  “You show up like a fucking zombie earlier and then, you lie and tell me you are going home to rest when you are really going out to see some pretty-boy punk play in his lame-ass band?”

  “I was going to back out,” she murmured with a sigh. “But then Jessa said she was going to go alone and I didn’t want her going alone. I told you…”

  “Fuck, Tammy.” My finger dug into the leather on the steering wheel. “When are you going to fucking realize that you can’t take care of everyone else if you kill yourself in the process?”

  The words came out with more force than was necessary. I wasn’t her fucking parent. And I shouldn’t have fucking cared. But she shouldered the whole goddamn world like it was going to shatter if she didn’t.

  “Even God rested on the seventh day, Priss.”

  “Well, God wasn’t a woman,” she mused with that voice that sounded like she was in a drunken stupor, even though I knew she’d only drank water.

  My teeth clenching was the only sound that infused the silence.

  “Is Sophia with Lila?” she wondered.<
br />
  “Yes.” I shouldn’t even answer her; she shouldn’t be worrying about that right now.

  “I thought she had tonight—”

  “She did,” I bit out. “But I had to call her when I realized that you were out at a fucking bar when you looked like you were about to face-plant from exhaustion on my front step only a few hours ago.”

  She shrunk back deeper into the seat and I tried to regret my callous tone but couldn’t. I was angry that she was pushing herself too far and I was angry that I cared so goddamn much. This was a dangerous line we were toeing—and I had never been good at toeing the line.

  “I’m sorry for disrupting your night.”

  The words were so quiet I barely heard them—and when I did, they only made me angrier. She was always calm and polite and acquiescing. Just once I wanted her to stand up for herself—even though she still would have been wrong in this case.

  Just once, I wanted her to be a little fucking imperfect. Then maybe I wouldn’t want her so goddamn badly.

  “Which one is yours?” I asked as I pulled into her apartment complex. She pointed to the far corner.

  Swinging my truck into a spot, I barely turned off the ignition before she softly said, “Thank you,” and began to open her door. Except she didn’t step down from the truck, she began to fall.

  The slew of expletives that left my mouth would have probably made Ozzy Osbourne blush—if his body was even capable of it anymore. And the speed of my words was only surpassed by that with which I got to her.

  She didn’t fall. She’d begun to collapse, holding onto the handle as she went down, stopping when she caught the ledge below the door.

  “Christ,” I swore, wrenching my arms underneath her and hoisting her up against my chest amidst her weak protests. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  I took the keys that she had ready in her hand and opened the door to her building, carrying her up to the second floor where she said her apartment was.

  “I’m really fine, Nick,” she insisted, shifting weakly in my arms. “I just stood up too fast and I’m tired. There’s no need for you to carry me.”