On the Edge (Winter Games Book 2)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Winter Games Series, Book 2

  By Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Copyright2018 for Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  All rights reserved.

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements

  To my girls – my Three Amazing Butts. I don’t know what I would do without you and without our daily group text talking about teeth, life, travel, and all the crazies. Thank you for coining the donut look – and the myriad of other real-life stories that I’ve used in my imaginary ones. I couldn’t write about such amazing friendships without yours in my life. I love you both.

  To my sister – Thanks for being the Ally to my Channing. I’m sorry that I never listen to you and always do the opposite of what you suggest; what can I say? I’m stubborn. I love you, toupee. I carry your heart; I carry it in my heart.

  To my husband (always) – I love you. Thanks for making a cameo in this story with your signature white-sequin glove. ;)

  To my readers – Thank you for making this series what it is. I hope Ally and Emmett keep you on the edge of your seats – they’ve been anxiously waiting to tell you their story!

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Table of Contents

  Your Book Beverage

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Thank you for reading!

  Other Works by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  About the Author

  “Come. Sit with me now. We’ll gaze at the falling sun as it grazes this horizon for I want to talk about simple nothings and silent stirrings and wild things with someone who means everything.”

  - Victoria Erickson

  Your Book Beverage

  Dark ‘n’ Stormy

  Ingredients:

  2 oz. dark rum

  ½ oz. freshly-squeezed lime juice

  4 oz. ginger beer

  Preparation:

  Build the drink in a highball glass filled with ice.

  Add rum and ginger beer.

  Garnish with a wedge of lime.

  Enjoy.

  Chapter 1

  Ally

  I hate the way that I was warned about him.

  Seven months ago

  There isn’t much in this world more painful than a broken heart.

  I’d come to realize that not even the beach and the ocean could heal this problem – and that was a first for me.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Al?”

  I turned to face the windswept hair and concerned gaze of my cousin, Tyler, who’d asked the question as we stood with our toes buried just at the edge of where the water could reach. Two years older than me, Ty was one of the good guys – a star student, an even better football player, and the best surfer that I’d ever seen. He’d quickly become one of my best friends since my parents and I moved to Delray Beach four year ago when I was fifteen; the process had lost me my two older, twin siblings – Channing and Chance – who’d remained in Colorado to pursue their dream of becoming professional snowboarders.

  Ty had been the only familiar face in a completely unfamiliar environment. But that didn’t last long. Even though I’d, ironically, been held back in Kindergarten for not talking enough, I ended up being the child who never had a problem making new friends, especially with Ty’s help. He always teased that people were just drawn to me – to my smile. ‘The Ally Attraction.’

  “I can’t stay here, anymore.” My whisper fizzled away like the foam on the waves. “I thought I could… but he’s still everywhere.”

  “You belong here. At the beach. In the water. He wouldn’t want—“ Ty broke off as I shook my head frantically.

  Maybe I did belong here. I certainly looked like I did… the beach Barbie.

  Blonde hair, bleached by the sun and sea, brilliant Ryder-blue eyes that I shared with my siblings and our father, and a body that belonged in a bikini and ranged from ‘hot’ to ‘smoking’ to ‘unreal’ depending on which of Ty’s teammates you talked to – when he was out of earshot, of course.

  Although, ‘breathtaking’ had always been my favorite description because the player who’d said it had been my happily-ever-after.

  Breath. Taken.

  “It doesn’t matter if I belong,” I said thickly. “I can’t stay.”

  I ducked my head, letting the stray tear drop onto the sand and disappear into the grains. I would miss this. I would miss the heat of the sand as it collapsed underneath my feet. I would miss riding the waves – all that power pulling and shifting underneath my feet. I would miss the sun and the way it kissed my skin. I would miss the ocean – its calm and soothing presence. The way it had the strength to rock your troubles away and yet that same dominance could destroy you in a minute. So vast that it could make all your worries disappear in its expanse. Or so I’d thought.

  Water finally reached at my toes, as though it were trying to pull me back to it… to the ocean. But I couldn’t stay here; I was drowning.

  “You just need time, Al,” Ty rasped. “We all do; it’s only been just over a year. I just wish you would talk to me instead of run…”

  I heard the hurt in his voice. But I’d tried – I’d tried to stay.

  After graduation, I’d just been treading water, breaking my parents’ hearts as my spirits… my soul… slowly sank. My mom suggested (read: insisted) that I take some classes at our local community college to get myself out of the house since I refused to go to the beach anymore. I don’t know what made me do it, but I picked art. Drawing, painting… it let me feel like I was creating something amidst the nothingness that was inside me.

  It would have made sense to him. To Dylan. He always loved all my little drawings that ended up on napkins, school papers, menus, and sometimes, even his homework. Yes, he even loved those…

  I coughed as my throat spasmed with the painful memories.

  This was my life for the past year: painful memories only broken up by being guilted into helping my mom teach yoga for minimum wage and then my art classes. But the pain – the emptiness – wasn’t getting any better. And then, my sister called two weeks ago from Aspen and I saw it: a way to keep my head above the water, trading sun and sand for snow and mountains.

  I never thought I’d want to leave the beach but that was before… That was when I had him.

  Him. Dylan. Boyfriend.

  Had. Past tense.

  Dylan had been on the football team with Ty – one of Ty’s best friends, even though Dyl was in my grade – and one of the best people you c
ould ever meet. He was kind, respectful, caring. If you looked up ‘Prince Charming’ in the encyclopedia, Dylan’s face would show up. My happily-ever-after.

  I blinked back tears.

  “Can I have a minute?” I glanced over my shoulder at Ty who was standing in his classic beater and swim trunks, pushing sand back and forth with his foot.

  I’d avoided surfing and the beach altogether since the accident, but I asked if we could stop on the way because there was something I needed to do.

  His head flicked up to me and his jaw tightened even as he nodded and said, “I’ll be at the truck.”

  I looked out at the swelling wave, imagining Dyl out there, sitting on his board, telling me to take the next one even though it was supposed to be his turn; he always let me take the best ones.

  He and his two older brothers ran a small surf school on the weekend for tourists and the local kids. He didn’t just teach them to surf; he also taught them humility and respect. And I’d helped him. It had been our project. I’d even made him a drawing of a surfboard that he had a friend turn into a logo.

  Maybe that’s why I’d picked art classes.

  I sobbed as another wave crashed, stuffing my hand into my mouth as though I could physically hold back my hurt. More tears now fell into the water that lapped over my feet, their saltiness adding to the sea. The ocean seemed like the only container large enough to hold the vastness of my sorrows and strong enough to let them swallow me whole.

  I was only just turned twenty. I shouldn’t know what this kind of loss feels like.

  Dylan was only eighteen when it happened. He shouldn’t have died.

  And I no longer wanted anything to do with this life that every day only reminded me of him.

  Stupid heartbreak. It was like a too-dark pair of sunglasses that I couldn’t take off. My whole world was just shadows now.

  Closing my eyes, I spun the ring around my finger a few times before sliding it up and off of my left hand. It wasn’t fancy – just one of those Claddagh rings that Dylan had found at a Celtic festival; but it had been a promise ring - his promise to me that he could no longer keep. I came here with the thought that tossing the ring into the sea would free me from my hurt (a romanticized fantasy propagated by one too many chick flicks – thank you, Hallmark Channel); the waves would take away the cheap metal, just like they’d taken a piece of my heart.

  But I was weak.

  Shoving the ring into my pocket so that Ty wouldn’t see, I left one more idealized notion in my wake – the trail of which was pitifully evident like footsteps in the sand for anyone who was looking.

  I stepped back out of the water like it was acid around my ankles. I needed to get as far away from the ocean as possible and going to the mountains was the answer; it was the complete opposite of everything that I’d had.

  My phone buzzed in the pocket of the cut-off jean shorts that I was wearing. Probably should have chosen something warmer. Too late.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Ally!” Channing’s excited voice answered. “Are you on your way to the airport?”

  “Just about to leave, why? What’s up?” I asked, wiping my face with my palm and turning back to Ty and his waiting truck.

  “Nothing! I guess I’m just afraid you might still change your mind,” my sister replied.

  They’d always invited me to come out and stay with them over summer break, but I never went. After Channing called a few weeks ago, I knew what I needed to do. I sat my parents down and told them I wanted to move back out west with my brother and sister. I could see their hearts breaking a little at the thought of losing me, especially when I, myself, was so lost. They supported me, tearfully, but lovingly. So, I called Chan and asked, what I’m sure seemed a question from out of the blue, if I could come live with them until I decided what I wanted to do with my life. They didn’t know about the accident. And thankfully, my sister wasn’t the type to be nosy or ask why the girl who loved the sun and hated the snow wanted to come stay in the place where snow was life.

  “Nope,” I said with a pained smile. “I’m still coming.”

  “We were thinking about having a little get together tonight at the house as a very casual ‘welcome home,’ if that’s cool with you?” Chan asked hesitantly. I could hear her hopefulness and even though I felt hollowed out of all hope, I couldn’t bring myself to take that from her.

  “Sure.” I did my best to sound excited. Only Tyler, who was watching me approach his truck, could see how my face didn’t align with my tone. “Who’s coming?” I asked. Not that it mattered - I didn’t really know anyone out there anymore.

  “Just a few close friends. Chance suggested we go to Big Louie’s, but I figured that you probably wouldn’t want to do all that after a day of traveling. Plus, I’d rather not go into work on my night off.” Channing worked as a bartender at that bar which was conveniently where my brother and his friends like to hang out. “Oh! I also invited Tammy – I don’t know if you remember her—“

  “Tammy Lucas?” I clarified.

  “Yeah.”

  “Of course, I remember her.” Looked like I was going to know at least one other person.

  Even though it had only been four years, thinking back to my life in Aspen was like trying to remember a different person. Tammy and I had been pretty good friends at the start of high school even though she’d been a little older. But then I’d moved and it was hard to stay close.

  “Well… I wasn’t sure. Anyway, she’s a ski instructor on the mountain so I always run into her at Cup of Joe, especially in the off season, and I told her you were moving back; she was really excited to see you, so I invited her to swing by,” Channing continued.

  “Great, sure.” I said, taking one last look at the ocean, my hand on the doorknob to Ty’s truck.

  “And then just Chance and me, Emmett, Nick, maybe a few people from the bar depending on what their schedules are like,” she finished.

  I sighed, sliding into the passenger seat. Those names sounded vaguely familiar from an earlier time in my life, snowboarders and friends of my siblings who were hardly ever off the mountain long enough for me to really meet, let alone remember, them.

  “Ok,” I said, looking over at Ty and waiting for him to start the truck.

  “Alright, well I’ll let you go. I just wanted to check. See you at four, Al!”

  “See ya.”

  I barely hung up before Ty spoke. “Do they know?” he asked and I didn’t need to clarify what he was talking about.

  “No.” I purposely refused his gaze as we pulled out of the parking lot.

  “You think you should tell them?” he pressed softly.

  “No.” I felt bad for all the monosyllabic answers, so I tried to give him something. “I need to get away, to forget. I need the mountains to freeze all my feeling before they consume me.”

  He let out a loud sigh. “I wish I had the right words for you, Al. But just know that I’m here for you if you need anything or need to talk – you can always call.”

  There were no right words. The sad fact was that he could tell me every word out of the sympathetic dictionary and it would still never be enough. So, instead, I nodded and kept my mouth shut knowing that he was only trying to help.

  In Florida, the landscape all seemed to fall into the ocean; in Colorado, everything rose towards the sky. I sat in the front seat of our brother’s Cherokee, glancing over my shoulder at the two large duffel bags that lay rolling around in the back seat, hearing the third hard suitcase clunking around the trunk. Riders should be equipped with helmets whenever my sister was driving. My bags held nothing compared to the amount of clothes I’d had before I’d given most of them away. All of my paychecks seemed to disappear into the black holes that were Pacsun and Forever 21.

  I’d stepped off the plane a different person than the one Ty had said goodbye to hours earlier; I left the old Ally back on the beach. No one here knew me. No one here knew what happened. And it was onl
y going to stay that way if I showed everyone exactly who I wanted them to see.

  Again, I spun the cheap Claddagh ring around my ring finger. It was my only link – my only weakness. Worst case? It would pass as a questionable fashion statement – much like fanny packs and crocs, where you wonder what the person was thinking but don’t have the guts to ask.

  “How was your flight?” My sister’s question broke our silence.

  “Fine. I took a nap on the first leg.” I glanced over to her, a genuine smile on my face. I did miss my sister and the blonde Audrey Hepburn-vibe she had going on with the way she’d cropped her hair super short; she also had the same huge heart with a streak of ‘I-don’t-give-a-shit’ attitude. Then again, Chan would take one look at Audrey and her classic feminine clothes and completely disagree with my assessment, saying ‘There’s no way I look that girly!’

  “The layover in Denver was the worst part,” I continued. “You’d think they’d have more flights out here.”

  Our old house – my new home – was in Hope’s Creek, just outside of Aspen at the base of Snowmass Village. A good three-and-a-half-hour drive from Denver’s international airport meant that I’d flown into Denver and then taken a connecting flight to the airport in Aspen – a mere fifteen minutes from my final destination.

  “They do in the winter, I think. But, in the summer, there aren’t as many people trying to get out here,” she replied. Her blue eyes met mine, fierce and determined compared to the calm veneer over my sea of sorrows.

  The suitcases rolled again as she whipped us around another turn.

  “Honestly, I thought you’d have a lot more stuff, Al. Then again, this is still probably more clothes than I own…”

  I shrugged, watching the numerous, vibrant Aspen trees fly past the window. “The rest was swimsuits,” I lied. “By the way, mom would die if she knew that this is how you drive.”