The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  “Kyle.” My shoulders sagged as Betty approached me again. I loved her like a grandmother—complete with the frustration that comes when said grandmother tries to set you up with girls. “I can’t wait to see your next show,” she beamed.

  “Oh yeah? You’re coming?”

  “Oh no, dear. That’s my bridge night,” she informed me with a shake of her head. “As much as I would love to see you play, I love winning even more, and I’m on a streak. If I don’t show up, that Cindy Lou is going to ruin my loss-less reputation.”

  I threw my hands up. “I see how it is,” I teased with a wink.

  “Oh, don’t do that, honey. I can’t afford to fall again.” She pressed a hand to her chest and batted her eyes. “Really, though. That lovely young lady, Jac, promised that she would go and watch you.”

  “What?” I almost dropped my iPad and paperwork that I was holding; I couldn’t have heard her right.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” She sighed like she hadn’t heard me. “Well, I think my work here is done for the day. Honest to goodness, I wonder what would happen to this place without me.”

  “Betty, what did you—”

  “See you next week, handsome.” She grinned at me before turning and hollering toward one of the elderly gentlemen whose appointment was always after hers.

  She wasn’t coming, I told myself. No matter what Betty said, I wasn’t going to bank on anything considering that avoiding me came second only to training for her event.

  Grabbing the rest of my stuff, I made for the door. I didn’t expect to see Jac still in the gym as I was just finishing for lunch, but she was. And it was a glimmer—the smallest spark of hope in a sea of darkness.

  Earbuds in, she was sitting on the mats with no trainer in sight. She was stretching, wearing the clothes she had on earlier minus the Storm Trooper sweatshirt to reveal a Star Wars tee underneath. As much as parts of me loved the bathing suit, I liked seeing her like this, too, because it gave me the tiniest crumb of insight into the person she refused to let me see.

  A fan of the Force. Noted.

  “Hey,” I said hoarsely.

  She didn’t watch me approach and I would’ve assumed didn’t hear it either with her headphones in, but I saw she heard my greeting as her body subtly shifted.

  Tugging out one bud, she tipped her face up to mine.

  “Hi.” The careless attitude that she was hoping to feign failed in a single syllable.

  “How’d you like the Hydroworx?” Figured it was best to start on something neutral.

  One eyebrow lifted and I had the sudden urge to kiss it. “You mean you couldn’t tell from the way you were watching me the whole time?”

  So much for being neutral.

  I crouched down in front of her, feeling like I at least leveled the playing field when her lips parted.

  “Hard to keep my eyes off you, Cinderella,” I murmured quietly. “I got no problem admitting it.”

  She wasn’t expecting the truth—or the compliment. Pink spilled onto her cheeks as she licked over those fucking delicious lips while she tried to figure out where to go next.

  “Well, then, yes, I did like the pool. Makes it easy to build up strength and stamina without putting a lot of strain on my joints.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “I should get going. My trainer is waiting for me outside; I told him I just needed a few more minutes to stretch.” She glanced down at her watch and stood. I rose with her as she picked up her water bottle and turned to leave. “See you around.”

  “Jac.” I couldn’t stop my hand from reaching out and gently clasping her wrist.

  She spun on me, fire in her eyes and her body tensed and ready to take me right back down to the mat. It was always there—that intensity and adrenaline that pumped fight or fuck into my blood.

  I didn’t want to say it. I wanted to keep what I knew to myself and pray to every fucking god I could think of that she’d end up at my show because she told Betty she would. But as much as I loved Betty and a part of me wanted to indulge her matchmaking, fairy godmother schemes, I couldn’t do that.

  If Jac wanted to come, I needed her to want to come. Not be guilted.

  Releasing her wrist before she hit me over the head with her water bottle, I admitted with a low voice, “You don’t have to come to my show. Don’t… don’t worry about Betty.”

  I refused to be an obligation. That wasn’t how I was going to win her.

  “Of course, I don’t have to,” she bristled, sinking hard onto her hip. She crossed her arms over her chest, making the ache in my lower body worse the way it pushed her breasts up against her shirt. “But I told her I would, so I’m going.”

  I couldn’t have been more surprised or speechless if she had taken me down to the ground and knocked me out.

  “But it doesn’t mean anything,” she tacked on sharply. “And if you’re terrible, I’ll just have to tell her the truth.”

  With a ‘not sorry’ shrug, she spun and walked away, leaving my hard cock with the lovely sight of her ass sauntering toward the exit while I heard her mutter under her breath something along the lines that it was impossible for me to be both hot and talented.

  She was wrong—not about the hot and talented, I wasn’t going to say one way or the other on that, but she was wrong about it not meaning anything.

  She was coming because she wanted to, no matter what excuse she gave herself, or me.

  And that meant everything.

  MARISSA’S HAND WAVED FRANTICALLY IN the air just as I walked into Peace and a Cup of Joe. She was one of four people in the place. Like I would have missed her.

  Chuckling to myself, I tugged off my aviators and hat, running a hand through my short black hair to make sure it was sticking up stylishly.

  “Hey.” I dropped my gloves and hat on the table that she’d claimed right in the center of the small cafe. “Just gonna go grab a flat white and I’ll be right back.”

  “No rush,” she said with a brilliant smile.

  She’d stayed at Shawn’s again last night. Of course, I was happy for her.

  I was also trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy that twisted in my stomach, making me want to spend time like that with Kyle. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t that kind of girl—not anymore. Dreams and dicks had focused me on the only thing I could count on: the mountain and gold medals.

  A few minutes later, I picked up my piping hot coffee from the counter and joined Marissa back at the table.

  “So, how’s Shawn?” I began, wincing as I burned my tongue, too eager for caffeine.

  Her face turned a pretty pink as she smiled and answered, “Good. Really good.”

  “Good.” I smiled, pulling my ankle up underneath my other leg, trying to look more comfortable than I felt. “And how about everything else? How’s the ankle?”

  She and I hadn’t talked—like really talked—in a very long time. Ever since I’d arrived in Aspen, between the gym, training, her work, and our time spent together either in public or with company, we hadn’t talked about too much.

  Growing up together for so many years, of course we could fall into superficial conversation easily, but we hadn’t probed much deeper than ‘hi’, ‘how are you,’ and ‘happy birthday’ for almost three years now. After Evan… it just wasn’t the same. I couldn’t tell her the truth and she thought I was just too heartbroken to talk about it.

  “Good. My doctor says I should be good to be back on the mountain by the end of the season if you’re still around,” she suggested hopefully. “What are your plans after the Cup?”

  “There are a few more competitions in the States but nothing too crazy since it’s an off year for the Olympics.”

  “Do you think you’ll go next year?” Her eyebrows rose.

  My shoulders tensed slightly. “Unless I’m injured or not invited, I plan on it.”

  I planned on skiing until the mountain was literally ripped from me by injury or death. It defined me. Without it
, I wasn’t sure what else was left.

  Hearing how my tone hardened, she switched topics. “How’s everything with you? How are your parents? Are they coming up for Christmas and the event?”

  I ignored the small twinge in my chest, knowing the holiday was fast approaching and, just like the race, I’d be experiencing that event alone.

  “Good.” I nodded. “I’ll go see them once the competition is over. No point in coming out here for the holiday while I’m training.”

  “They aren’t coming up at all?” she gaped.

  I shook my head. “They’ll watch it on TV. I guess winning the gold gets boring after a while,” I joked lightly.

  My parents were very supportive of me and they loved the sport, but they had me when they were a little older and so travelling around was getting harder for them. Plus, they knew Danny was with me so there was no reason for them to worry.

  “I mean for Christmas.” She let out a small cry. “I wish I knew… I thought...” She dragged a hand through her hair, remorse straining her expression. “Had I known, I wouldn’t have told my parents that I’d drive up to Wyoming to spend it with them.”

  She bit into her lower lip, both of us knowing she couldn’t invite me home with her. Not after what happened with Evan and me.

  “I can stay—”

  “No,” I insisted. “Don’t worry about it, Maris.” My lips found the reassuring smile that did everything except convince me I was okay. “It’s just another day… one that I’ll spend out on the mountain anyway. Please…”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “You know how many holidays I’ve spent on my own?” I joked lightly. “It comes with the job description.”

  My old friend didn’t look convinced.

  “I’ll celebrate when I go see my parents after the race is over. Trust me. It’s fine.”

  Marissa let out a long sigh. “If you change your mind, let me know and I can stay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Her eyes searched mine. “If you say so.”

  I took another long sip of my coffee as pity drained out of her eyes.

  Thankfully, she changed the subject. “I don’t know if I got a chance to tell you the other day, but thank you for agreeing to come on the double date with me. I hope you had fun—or at least enjoyed the food.”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to hide the shiver that went up my spine. “Yeah, no problem. I did.” And then, a thought dawned on me: a return favor of sorts. “Speaking of dates, are you and Shawn busy on Friday?”

  Her eyes widened as she shook her head. “I’m not. I’d have to ask Shawn what his plans are. Why? Do you want to go out again? Oh my God, do you… like Kyle?”

  I pushed back from the table so fast that I tipped my coffee over. Swearing, I reached for some napkins on the table to catch the liquid that spilled. Thankfully, the travel lid only leaked a few drops of milky coffee.

  “No,” I clipped as I finished cleaning up the mess that called me a liar. “I don’t like him. However, I’m going to his show on Friday at some pub place.”

  “Peak’s Pub?” Her eyebrows rose. “Wait. You don’t like him and that’s why you’re going to watch Mr. Abercrombie play on Christmas Eve’s Eve?”

  Groaning, I sank back into my chair. “It’s a long story.”

  “Today is my day off.” She crossed her legs and propped her chin on her palm, expectantly and nonchalantly.

  I glared at her expectant smile.

  I shouldn’t tell her. I shouldn’t have even bothered to ask. There was a fine line when it came to relationships with guys that I couldn’t cross when talking to her because it would lead back to her brother. It always did. But at the same time, I hadn’t talked to her… or any friend… like this in so long. And since I was already embarrassing myself with my coffee spill, I might as well be honest.

  “I don’t want to go to his show, but I have to,” I began.

  “Um, who are you?” she gaped. “The Jac I know hasn’t done anything she didn’t want to for, oh, the past five years.” As soon as the words left her mouth, her cheeks flushed.

  She didn’t know the reason, but after Evan, after the scandal, I swore I was going to stop doing whatever anyone wanted from me. Especially a guy.

  “I was begged,” I explained weakly. “By an almost ninety-year-old woman who is apparently in love with Kyle.”

  “Well, who wouldn’t be?”

  I shot her a harsh stare. “Anyway, she wants me to go so I can record a video for her of him playing.”

  “Wait, how did you meet her?”

  “At the gym.”

  “And how does she know Kyle?”

  Shit.

  “He’s a physical therapist at said gym.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “So, you’ve been training at the same gym that he works at?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled.

  “That’s crazy!” And that wasn’t even the half of it.

  “Something like that.”

  She looked at me over the lip of her cup. “Maybe it’s meant to be.”

  I could only stare, unwilling to justify it with an answer. Unwilling to admit how tempting the thought was to believe.

  “So, will you guys come with me?” I refocused back to the question I regretted asking.

  “Will you tell me if you like him?”

  My eyes narrowed. “I don’t like guys, Maris. Not anymore.”

  I expected her to back down. Her brother was this strange sort of electrical fence that stopped any conversation that got too close to my heart.

  Instead, she fired back with a surprising amount of excitement, “You do like him!”

  “Marissa…”

  “You’re blushing.”

  I yanked out my phone to look on the screen—I was not. And then I realized that I gave myself away. Shit. This is what happens when you don’t date for five years. One-night stands don’t make you blush. One-night stands don’t turn out to be Prince Charming.

  “Well, if you don’t like him, you at least want to sleep with him, and I don’t blame you.”

  Double shit.

  “Oh my God.” She gasped so loud I actually checked to make sure there were still only the three other people distantly spread over the room. “Did you…” Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “Did you sleep with him the other night after you left? Oh my God, you did!”

  My hand pulled at hair that was too short to really provide much of a grip.

  “No. I mean, yes, but not the other night.”

  Her cup clattered down on the table and I reached forward, afraid we were about to have another coffee tragedy on our hands. Her eyes screamed the question I chose to answer rather than wait for her to ask.

  “The other night at that bar, when you met Shawn and went home with him. The guy I told you I got a ride with? Yeah. It was Kyle.”

  Her eyes didn’t get any smaller and for a second I worried that she was having some sort of stroke.

  “It’s not a big deal. Or it wasn’t. Until he ended up being my counterpart on your double-date. Now, I can’t seem to escape him,” I rambled calmly, trying to downplay everything about what this conversation had turned into.

  “Do you want to?” she squeaked out.

  I stared out the window, the emotions inside me more unpredictable than the weather at the top of the mountain.

  “I need to,” I finally answered.

  “Jac,” Maris said softly, hugging her arms across her chest like my answer hurt her heart, too. “What you want is important, too.”

  “I just want to focus on my career, Maris,” I said sternly. “I’m not interested in a relationship. Especially not with Kyle.”

  Her eyes bugged out of her head. “W-why not? He’s like… he’s like a god.”

  I groaned. “Please don’t tell him that. He already has a big enough Prince Charming Complex. Honestly, I think he needs help.”

  Her eyes rolled back in her head. “Ja
c…”

  “What?”

  “You need something in your life besides skiing… and Star Wars. I’m not saying it has to be Kyle, but I’ve known you a long time. You may be able to fool the reporters and the cameras and your fans, but I can see that skiing and competing isn’t enough for you, no matter how much you build it up.”

  My jaw tensed.

  I wouldn’t agree with her.

  Especially not about Star Wars.

  I’d fought too long to make my career my everything because it was the only thing that wouldn’t try to take me down, it was the only thing that wouldn’t try to break me.

  It was the only thing I knew I could control.

  I wasn’t trying to be a jerk—okay, maybe a little—but I wasn’t lying when I told Kyle to find another damsel. I thought I’d found my storybook hero years ago; it’d been easy, he’d been my best friend. But he wasn’t a prince; he was troubled and jealous, and then he was gone. ‘Once upon a time’ turned into ‘A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away’ and I became my own symbol of resistance and rebellion: resisting love and rebelling against the stereotypes that came along with it.

  When Evan died, not only did he take my fairytale from me, he’d almost taken my career with him. So, no… no more princes for me. This ice princess belonged to one of the rare Disney movies that ended with the girl riding off into the sunset or, in my case, skiing down the mountain, alone.

  I opened my mouth with an off-the-cuff attempt to avoid answering her, but as soon as I did, the excitement and surprise fell from her face like it’d been slapped off.

  “Long time, no see, Jax.”

  My body turned to ice as the acerbic voice poured down my back.

  No one called me ‘Jax;’ I made sure of it. Jax sounded like I was the self-obsessed love-child between Metallica and Simple Plan. Jax sounded like I wanted to be cooler than I actually was. I was cold, not cool; there was a difference.