The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  Here she was saving my ass and I’d been a fucking dick when the girl just wanted to go visit her family. I’d been irrationally angry. I hated being reminded that there were things I didn’t know about her, things that I should have known about her. Like that she had seven siblings. I hated thinking that she would go and realize that working for me, being around me, was a mistake. I was afraid they’d tell her to quit or that she just wouldn’t come back.

  I was angry because it wasn’t rational; and if it wasn’t rational, that meant it came from my heart and I couldn’t afford the weakness of that organ right now.

  I was angry because, like the damn angelfish, Miss Priss was the beautiful, exotic creature on the other side of the glass that had me standing, my breath fogging the pane, my fingers touching the cool surface, as I tried to see through—to get through—the walls to get to her.

  I moved on to her second text that had come in about fifteen minutes ago.

  TAMMY

  I’m sure I’m overreacting, but if you could just let me know that you’re ok. I’m really worried.

  My gut clenched harder than when Stone had been punching me. Tammy was worried about me. It was a good thing that my tear ducts were probably swollen shut right now because I couldn’t remember the last time someone had worried about me, let alone told me so. Aside from Pride and King, I couldn’t remember the last time someone cared enough to worry about me the way that I knew she was.

  I stared at the blinking cursor, debating whether or not to respond. I wanted to, but I didn’t want to lie to her. And I sure as shit couldn’t tell her the truth. It was bad enough she knew about what happened in high school; she didn’t need to know that it continued—that it had grown worse.

  I shouldn’t respond. I should let her continue to think me a callous asshole. Easier for her to turn me down that way.

  But she worried about me.

  NICK

  See you Monday. Goodnight.

  I couldn’t stop myself. I hoped this would be enough to at least show her that I was alive. The hand holding my phone fell to the bed, my cell tumbling from its grasp. I let my head tip back against the headboard and forced a sigh through ribs that were, at the very least, bruised.

  A pained groan escaped me at the effort.

  Tammy was like the air in my lungs—the more I tried to breathe her out, the more I needed to suck her back in.

  Lifting the ice to my face once again, I closed my eyes and crawled back into the darkness that was my familiar retreat in this gilded cage where I would remain for the next few days until I no longer looked like a beast.

  “When so many hours have been spent convincing myself I am right,

  is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong?”

  —Jane Austen, Sense & Sensibility

  DRIVING HOME HAD BEEN A trial of strength. Each turn begged me to make it into a “U” back to the Frost compound as I remembered the way he’d walked into the house carrying Lila like he was about to offer himself up as a sacrifice.

  Stay calm, Heart; he’ll be fine.

  Methodically, I organized all potential scenarios in my head, arranging them in various orders—from best to worst, from most likely to least, from rational to irrational. In spite of it all, my heart still remained caged in the chaos of concern, beating against the bars with which I tried to hold it in check.

  Home. Dinner. Change. Tea. Book.

  I went through the motions of what I did every night after work, hoping that routine would distract me from how long it had been since I texted him and he hadn’t responded. But even Jane Austen couldn’t provide me with words of wisdom right now.

  I knew that something wasn’t right. Just like I’d known that something wasn’t right with me before they finally diagnosed the cancer. Something was very, very wrong.

  “Hello?” Jessa answered the call that my heart insisted that I make.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, babe. What’s up? You feeling okay?” she immediately asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” At least my body was at the moment.

  “You sure? I know this week was rough. Have you called your mom back?”

  I swallowed uneasily. “I talked to her earlier. I’m going out there next weekend to visit—to talk to her. She knows something is wrong. I just—I need to tell her in person.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised; you had to get that intuition of yours from somewhere,” she teased softly. “So, what’s up?”

  “Can I… talk to Chance?”

  There was a beat of silence and I knew my request had come as a surprise.

  “Chance?” she repeated, slightly dumbfounded. “Oh, um, sure. One sec.”

  The way I chewed on my lower lip, one would think I confused it with a piece of gum. I heard murmurs in the background before the static of her phone changing hands.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Chance. It’s Tammy.”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Jessa said. What’s up? Is Frost okay?”

  “I-I don’t know,” I answered honestly, hating how not-knowing wore me down so easily.

  He cursed, “Fuck. What happened? Is Lila okay?”

  “We came home from the aquarium and there was a big Mercedes truck in the driveway and Nick turned into a zombie. H-he said that Stone was there and he had to go.”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swore more violently than the first time. “You left right? You are home?”

  My stomach turned. “Yeah.” But Nick was still there.

  “Okay.” He sighed. “Just… don’t go back there until he calls you or somehow lets you know it’s safe.”

  Steeling myself, I demanded, “What’s going on?”

  “Stone isn’t a good guy, Tammy. Frost will be fine but you should stay away,” he cautioned again.

  “I know about the fights,” I blurted out. “I know that Stone used to beat him.” And then my worst fear—the worst-case scenario—slipped from my lips. “Does that still happen?”

  There was another moment of silence because Chance didn’t know whether he should answer me or not. And that should have been answer enough.

  With a resigned sigh, he confessed, “Yes—if they are both in the same place, that is probably what is happening,” he said tightly. “Frost can handle himself, you don’t have to worry about that. But Stone will use anything that Frost cares about—that’s within his grasp—as leverage. So, for his sake, just don’t go back there right now.”

  My heart stopped. “But he doesn’t care about me.” The words slipped as easily out of my mouth as the knife did going into my heart.

  Sure, Nick may want me, but he’s wanted practically every other woman within a thirty-mile radius; he doesn’t care about me. Caring was a level of long-term that didn’t exist for either of us right now.

  “Really, Tam?” Chance laughed harshly. “And here I always thought you were the smartest of the bunch.”

  I heard Jessa protest in the background as I tried to absorb his words. Chance didn’t know what he was talking about, clearly, I assured myself.

  “There are two things you need to know about Nick Frost,” he continued. “One, don’t get involved in any fight between him and Stone. Trust me. I’ll check on him tomorrow. And two, the only thing that Frost has ever wanted out of this life since the moment I met him was you. But life never gives him what he wants, so not wanting you might be the only way that fate will finally let him have you.”

  Air rushed into my lungs along with the shock of his words. He muttered some reminder to please stay home before saying goodbye and hanging up before my strangled soul could find a way to respond. I sat frozen on the edge of my bed for a long minute as my poor heart clung to words that it desperately wanted to believe. And then, with each beat, I found myself tugging on my black fleece jacket, pulling my boots up over my pajama pant legs, and walking back out into the cold night that I could no longer feel.

  I did exactly what I was told not to do; I broke the
rules for him.

  Once more, I showed up at his door with muted sense and questionable sensibilities in hand. I shouldn’t be here. This was stepping over every line that had been drawn—every line that I had drawn.

  Lines, like rules, were there for a reason.

  But when Chance confirmed my fears—and my desires—I knew I’d end up back here even if it did nothing but make both of those things worse.

  I knocked quietly on the door, holding my arms over my chest and looking side to side—afraid that this Stone would jump out from the ivy at any moment and grab me. There was a chance that Nick was still in the main house—a chance that he couldn’t even make it back here.

  Oh God.

  What if he was really injured? What if Chance was wrong? What if he needed a doctor? Or a hospital?

  What if—

  The door swung open and I let out a small shriek. The dim light in the background softly illuminated the figure that stood in the dark. Still, I found those murky-white eyes in the shadows just before he stepped into the light.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he growled angrily. “I told you to fucking go home.”

  Even the bitter bite of his words couldn’t eclipse the shock of what I saw; nothing could have prepared me for that. Black and purple balloons framed his left eye and right cheekbone. His lips cut up by something other than his sharp words. His chest was a bruised mural that even I struggled to breathe imagining how much the simple task must hurt him.

  Only then did his almost completely naked form register. Shirtless. Pantless. Gorgeous. Broken.

  “Nick…” I swallowed thickly, ripped apart by craving and concern.

  “What are you doing here, Priss?” he repeated, shutting the door slightly.

  “I-I texted you. I was worried…” I stuttered, pulling my fleece tighter over me, covering the thin tank top underneath.

  “Well, here I am: alive and angry,” he rasped. “But still breathing, beating, and just a little worse for the wear; you can go now.”

  Was he kidding?

  “I-I can’t go,” I replied defiantly, shaking my head. Not when he was like this. Absolutely not. “Nick, have you seen yourself? Have you seen your face? I-I can’t go.”

  “What makes you think you have a fucking choice?” An unfiltered cocktail of anger and hatred seeped into his voice and my heart squeezed painfully. I just wanted to help him. “As your boss, I’m telling you to go home or you’re fired.”

  I shivered at the threat. “And, as someone who cares, I’m telling you that I won’t, Nick.”

  “You will, dammit,” he swore, my stomach recoiling as he pounded his split open and blood-crusted knuckles into the doorframe. “You will because this is my fucking house. If you don’t, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

  Two tears leaked down my cheeks. “Nick…” His name a strangled whisper from my lips.

  “Christ, Tammy.” His voice broke painfully, wincing with the huge sigh that he let out. “I’m begging you. Is that what you want? I’m begging you to please go.”

  When I was broken, I’d run to him for no reason except that I knew I needed him. Now, he was broken, and he pushed me away for no reason except that he was afraid to need me back.

  I wasn’t incredibly strong like Jessa or defiant like Ally or even fearless like Channing. But sometimes in life, there are moments—decisions that we make—that change us from who we are into who we want to be.

  It wasn’t smooth or sophisticated or anything like how it would happen in a movie. Instead, I reached into my pocket with a hand that shook like I was having a seizure to pull out my cell. Frozen fingers narrowly ruined the entire thing as the phone almost slipped from their stiff grasp.

  Holding it out to him, my tear-filled eyes met his ice-cold ones, and my wavering voice said, “Well, it doesn’t look like you have your phone on you right now, so you’re going to be needing mine if you want to call the police because I’m. Not. Leaving.”

  The infamous stare-down. If I wasn’t trying too hard to stop my heart from hammering its way right out of my chest, I probably would have been the one to cave. But I wasn’t.

  His jaw clenched shut before releasing with a harsh laugh. “Fine,” he said, hoarsely like there was just no fight left to him. “Who knew that seeing me naked would be what it took for you to break the law?”

  Heat exploded in my cheeks. “That’s not why—”

  I thought he was reaching for my phone. Instead, strong fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me against his chest. His eyes hardly flickered at the pain it must have caused him.

  “You want to break the rules to be here, Priss?” he rasped, his face an inch from mine.

  I held my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “Then you better be prepared to break them all. You stay and that means there are no more fucking rules.” His eyes dared me one last time to follow through—to not run back to my meticulously organized, rated Number-One-in-Safety, and carefully crafted life.

  He has it all wrong, my heart whispered.

  I didn’t want to run back to my life. I was running from it.

  And I was running straight to him.

  I couldn’t believe that she was here. What the fuck was she thinking coming back here?

  Not that Stone was going to come after me again tonight. He never followed me over here—especially not after I started hitting back and he got too winded to maintain his force. If he did, I’d kill him in a heartbeat if he even looked at Tammy with those venomous eyes. My heart had stopped when Jane brought up ‘Lila’s new tutor’ to Stone. He thankfully moved on quickly from that tidbit of information. If either of them did anything to Tammy, so help me God…

  Actually, I didn’t need his help. In fact, God probably wouldn’t want to be party to what I would do to them, and I was okay with that.

  Staring down into her anxious and upturned face, I was almost tempted to kiss her to prove to myself that she was here—that she wasn’t a figment of my concussed imagination and tainted grace. Even though the rest of my body felt her softness and warmth pressed against me, it was known to imagine these things on a regular fucking basis.

  I let myself bask in the soul-deep concern in her eyes. And then I pushed her away.

  I didn’t want anyone’s pity—especially hers. I’d fucked up. I’d made my own choices, and this was my punishment for them. I didn’t deserve pity for getting exactly what I deserved. But with Tammy, it was even more than that. I didn’t want to be one more person that she felt responsible for caring for. I wanted the care that I saw in her eyes—fuck, I wanted it more than I wanted anything in my life. But I wanted it from her heart and not from her rules of responsibility. And I could see that that was what I was. I’d hired her. Now, she felt responsible for Lila and responsible for me.

  Two fucking children for the price of one.

  “I’m going back to bed,” I said gruffly, dropping her wrist and turning back toward the stairs. She could follow me or not. She was the one demanding to stay. I wasn’t going to make it easy on her.

  “Do you have ice up there?” she asked.

  I spun as her soft steps faltered behind me. Wide eyes met mine and I immediately knew what had caused her to stumble.

  The ice.

  “F-for the swelling. In your face.” It would have been comical how breathless and nervous she was if it hadn’t been so incredibly arousing.

  I smirked, letting her sit with that memory of the two of us for a second before answering. “Yes. I have ice. For my swelling.”

  My room was much plainer than downstairs—which was saying a lot since I removed as much of the gaudy shit as I could from there, too. Actually, my room was painfully plain aside from the giant canopy bed that dominated the space. The thing still wasn’t really my style, but it was just too big of a pain in the dick to move. And it was comfy so really what the hell did I care? It was only for a few more months anyway until I was free of this
place and them.

  I glanced back at her again, careful to keep the front, swollen parts of me facing away from her. With curious eyes, she examined the shadowed space. Even when it wasn’t nighttime, I had all the shades drawn shut. I made sure to keep this place dark; it was the only room here where I truly felt safe.

  “I thought your room would be different,” she murmured.

  “What were you expecting?” I laughed, wincing as pain sliced through my chest. “A red room of pain?”

  Her eyebrows scrunched at me. Of course, she wouldn’t get the reference.

  “Fifty Shades of Grey… Never mind,” I grumbled. “Bed, bath.” I nodded off to the door to the left of the bed where the master bath was in case she needed it.

  My steps became more mismatched as the pain in my hip got worse from standing so long. Stone had swung at me and I turned to avoid getting the brunt of the blow, but what was left had been enough to knock my left hip directly into the marble entryway table; I should have just let him hit my face—my hip was going to take longer to heal.

  “Your hair is down,” I said, sliding back between the sheets and pulling the covers back over my hips. Her loose hair was the first thing I noticed.

  The pain of getting back in bed started to subside into a dull throb. What was the most uncomfortable were the areas below the blanket and had everything to do with her and nothing to do with my injuries.

  She blushed and responded, “I-I was about to go to bed when I decided to come back over. I didn’t think to do something with it.” She reached up and pulled the mass over her shoulder. A waterfall of warm mahogany. “Or to change.”

  I winced, taking a good look at what she had on—not that pale blue plaid pajama pants and what I assumed was a matching top underneath her jacket were fucking lingerie or anything, but they might as well have been for the response they provoked.

  “I see that.” I let my eyes rake over her again.

  Propped back against the pillows, I watched as she walked to the nightstand and grabbed the ice pack sitting on it. Looking to the bed, I saw the moment she realized that I hadn’t left much room on the side for her to sit; it would force her to be right next to me.