Enjoy the Ride (Winter Games Book 3) Page 6

  Shrugging my shoulders slightly, I murmured, “Just thought you would still want to do something meaningful with your life—something involving snowboarding; you know, the thing that you love.”

  His laugh was like a gust of wind in the dead of winter, the coldness of it sinking right into my bones. “Yeah, well, the things that I love like to fucking disappoint me. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.”

  The chill in my bones deepened as an icy wave of guilt washed over me. I rested frozen against his leg, unmoving as the truth rolled in my stomach begging to escape. Again, I swallowed it down. Not only was it not the time or place, but Chance was not in the right state of mind.

  As much as I was angry at him for how he was acting and treating me, my heart ached for the man that I’d loved. I, too, knew what it was like to have something you love ripped from you—to blame yourself and to feel lost and hopeless. Giving him the truth now would just be an excuse to save me from his wrath; I wasn’t here to help myself, I was here because I could help him. I could save him.

  Or, at least, I could try to. Lord knows that Frost certainly wasn’t helping the situation.

  Helping Chance meant dealing with his vengeance until he realized that he would be able to snowboard again and that there were a thousand other ways he could contribute to the sport even if he couldn’t compete professionally anymore.

  Suddenly, I was tired of escalating. To me, the anger on his face only accentuated the hurt in his heart. I was responsible for some of it and I was going to do my damnedest to make it right.

  “Your sisters worry about you, you know,” I whispered softly. They both worried about the life that he was living now.

  Surprisingly, I saw his face harden even more and his jaw tick before his leg fell to the side out from under me. Heat and hardness met my chest as I dropped directly onto his, my breath—and my reservations—rushing from my body in one fell swoop. Chest to hips, we were flush, our breaths crashing together as his hands claimed my hips.

  Eight years was a long time apart but it had done nothing to change the way our bodies fit perfectly together. Those years suddenly felt shorter than that split second. The anger evaporated from his eyes, replaced with pure, uncontrollable lust—the kind that did not stop for time or place or even death. The moment grew long with the realization that it would always be like this between us, no matter how much anger or sadness we tried to layer in between.

  A realization that only made those layers more poignant. And solidified their necessity.

  “The only person who has to be worried about me,” his eyes darkened, “is you.”

  His hips flexed up into mine. I’d felt his arousal thick against my stomach the second we’d touched and the desire that rolled through me was incapacitating. The truth was, with the move and then studying, I hadn’t been with anyone in well over a year… maybe even two.

  But that wasn’t the excuse for what was happening to my body.

  When you breathe in oxygen, your lungs turn it into carbon dioxide because that is all they know how to do; when I touched him, my body responded with desire because that was all it knew how to do.

  That was all it was made to do—come alive for him.

  Fighting against nature is never easy, but sometimes, you don’t have a choice. I could give in, I could let him fuck me until I didn’t know left from right, and I could even pretend (I think) that it meant nothing—but all of that would only fuel his downward spiral and probably break my heart completely.

  Swallowing my sadness, I pushed myself up to my feet needing to get as far away from him as possible.

  “Maybe we’ll just stick to the stretches that we did yesterday.”

  Temperance: The 14th card in the Tarot deck indicates a period of balance, patience, and moderation. You have been able to take the middle road, avoiding the emotional extremes. You are learning to keep calm in stressful situations—balancing your inner and outer selves. However, there can also be a clash between the old and new you—a conflict over which direction or choice to make and what is really important to you.

  TEMPERANCE. THE FOURTEENTH CARD IN the Tarot deck had been taped to Tammy’s bathroom mirror all week. I rarely read myself. Only in emergencies.

  This was an emergency.

  The worst part was that I came up with a million-and-one reasons why the card for patience needed to stay on the bathroom mirror for the short-term—something that I was sure would give Tam a heart attack, but she hadn’t said a word. Every morning she was gone before I was up. By the time I finished at work and then made use of the gym for my own work-out—loved the perks of this job—she was back in her room or getting ready for bed. When she did come out, it was for a brief conversation about work and to tell me that she wasn’t feeling well.

  We were both falling apart and neither of us wanted to take the other down with our respective ships.

  Maybe that was another reason that I’d turned to my Tarot deck. What started as a hobby in high school for the weird girl with the blue hair became a kind of lifeline once I moved to Texas—something that I always seemed to fall back on especially when Chance was involved. The cards didn’t necessarily tell me my future, but they helped me to make sense of the present and the choices that I’d made. They were a mirror inside of myself when all I could see was darkness.

  Still, I rarely read myself because I knew my weakness. I knew how difficult it was for me to stay objective. I wasn’t like Tammy, always calm and collected in the face of her own trauma. Yes, I had goals. Yes, I could hold back my emotions—but only for so long. When they reached their tipping point, they spewed everywhere. And when I felt them bubbling, that’s when I reached for the deck—to try to objectivize what was happening.

  Patience… Temperance… was not my virtue.

  I picked one card from the deck the morning before my interview. The Ten of Wands. End of a cycle. End of school. Finally, beginning my career. After that night at Big Louie’s—seeing Chance—I ran to them again. The Fool. Always an optimistic card. The irony was that I felt like a fool when it came to him—and not the good kind of fool. Anxious for my first day of work, I picked the Eight of Wands Reversed. An odd choice, I thought until I walked into the lobby and saw Chance.

  Obstacles. One. After. Another.

  Chance. The Reversed Knight of Cups. Ruled by his anger and bitterness. Not thinking logically but with his emotions—emotions that were directed at me.

  I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. There was one reason I was looking forward to work this morning—and she was my saving grace. On Wednesday, I was given another patient—an elderly woman, Betty, who’d had a hip replacement and would be with me over the next few weeks as well. She was a character and managed to completely distract me from most thoughts of Chance while in her presence.

  Day One, for example, I walked into the clinic with Kyle that morning, chatting about how my first day had gone. I abruptly said good-bye to him, realizing that Betty was there waiting for me. Wouldn’t you know it—when I got over to her she scolded me for abandoning my conversation with that ‘handsome, young man.’ I stared at her. Looked to Kyle. And then back to her, at which point she insisted that she wasn’t kidding, but that she wouldn’t complain if I wanted to blow my chances with him because that just left more room for her to win him over.

  I died.

  She was kidding. For the most part.

  Kyle was such a good sport about it, too—always saying hello to her if he was in the gym. One time, he winked at her (maybe it was meant for me, but Betty ‘called dibs’ on it). Next thing I knew, she was asking me if I could set up some pool exercises with him (that one was always accompanied with a wink).

  Her sunny spirit made my day.

  A light that was quickly eclipsed by Chance in the afternoon. Countless times I pictured the card for Temperance in my mind as Chance pushed my buttons and pushed my limits. With him everything boiled down to one word: Frustration.

  A
nd it wasn’t because he didn’t do as I asked. Oh, no. He always did exactly what I told him to—which is why I had to think through every word that came from my mouth and every movement of my body several times before they happened unless I wanted another skinny-dipping incident… or stretching incident on my hands.

  Still, he managed to find a way. All the innuendo, the reminders, and the sexual tension he created I fought with frustration to ignore. Unbelievably difficult when, at every turn, the way he teased and tempted me reminded me of all the ways that he knew my body was made for him.

  Oh, and then there was the fact that every afternoon when he was done, Monroe disappeared with him into the men’s locker room. Like she didn’t have anything else to do… besides him.

  I had no right to be jealous. It wasn’t jealousy, I insisted as I pushed my own limits in the gym. And pigs could fly.

  I shifted as I stood; the waistband of my underwear itching my lower back. In an effort of self-preservation and hidden retaliation, after seeing him and Monroe in the locker room that afternoon, I left work and went in search of underwear. I went out and bought myself a whole stack of panties—and not the sexy kind either—to get me through the next few weeks. I wasn’t taking any chances, especially when the way he looked at me convinced me that he had x-ray vision.

  I tried my best to give him the disapproving stare that I’d seen Tammy deliver with precision to misbehaving children on a daily basis. It was moderately successful until he caught me staring at him when I thought he wasn’t looking—the attempt then completely undermined as I gave away that he was still the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

  I hated the damn confident smirk those looks earned me.

  He looked different now—and not just the beard on his face. Day one of our training together made sure that I got a full-frontal assessment of just exactly where and how much my ex-boyfriend had changed. A few scars I didn’t remember. A few hickies that were not from me.

  But I didn’t look quite the same either—not that he had or would have the opportunity to find out. Texas had evolved my passion for Tarot—and also for tattoos. Some things leave such a lasting impression on you… on your heart… that they needed to be branded onto my skin.

  For me, last week had been an attempt to exercise in a pit of quicksand. Chance was the quicksand. Everything about him… about us… dragging down all of my rational sense and sucking me into a well of desire where all my body wanted was to be swallowed whole by the man who would rather chew me up and spit me out.

  All because I’d broken his heart.

  “Honey,” Betty refused to call me by my name, unless she was scolding me for not getting her a date with Kyle, “what’s on your mind? You look far too distracted and not by the one thing in this room worthy of distraction.” She nodded with a dreamy sigh over towards where Kyle was working with a young skier who’d been injured in the X Games.

  I smiled. “Sorry, just a lot on my mind. First week here and all.”

  “Don’t fib me, girl, I’m too old for that. Plus, you wouldn’t lie to a dying woman. Now, tell me the truth before I go dying on you.”

  I rolled my eyes. Betty loved to pull the ‘dying’ card. At this rate, the way my heart raced like a Thoroughbred in the Derby every time I was around Chance, I was at a greater risk of keeling over in this gym than she was. She’d mentioned her age—seventy-eight—for every day that I’d seen her; and the fact that she might not live through her therapy session. (But that was ok, as long as Kyle was the last thing she glimpsed before she passed.)

  “My afternoon client is a pain in my ass.”

  Her eyes perked up. “Why? What has he done?” A swift, stern look told her that she needed to continue with her exercises if she wanted me to continue to talk.

  “How do you know it’s a he?”

  “Because,” she huffed, “I’m the only woman allowed to be a pain in the ass around here and I know no one would try to take that away from me.”

  I laughed. “You aren’t a pain in the ass, trust me.”

  “So what has he done? Uncooperative? Inappropriate?” she pressed eagerly.

  “Sometimes. And yes.”

  “Well, you should tell Dr.—Wait.” She paused as a thought struck her, “Is he cute?”

  I groaned. Only Betty would be ok with sexual harassment as long as the guy was cute. In my case, it was harassment—a harassment of my senses, a harassment of my memories, and most unforgivably, a harassment of my heart.

  “Well, that is most definitely yes.” She smiled. “I think you should date him.”

  “What?!” I exclaimed, drawing a few eyes from around the gym. “You’re just saying that because you want Kyle all for yourself.”

  She laughed as we walked into the pool room. I always finished her session with ten minutes on the treadmill in the HydroWorx.

  “So, what’s the real problem then?” she asked once she was settled into her walking rhythm.

  “I don’t want to date him, Betty. I’ve already done that.”

  “Oh my! Well, doesn’t this add a layer of intrigue to the plot.”

  “Don’t make me turn up the speed on that thing,” I warned. “I’m just frustrated that I have to deal with him. His antics are payback… for how it ended.”

  “I assume you’ve tried to keep things professional—and I only assume because you still refuse to let me alone with Kyle in here.”

  I laughed—one of those laughs of relief in the midst of stressful frustration; it was a brief respite in the conflagration that Chance had set on everything that I’d worked so hard for.

  “Yes, I’m trying—with both of you.” The treadmill began to slow as her time in the pool was up. I reached for a towel and helped her from the water.

  “Hmm…”

  “What’s that for? I don’t like the sound of that.” The last time she hummed like she was thinking, I caught her sneaking over to the windows to watch Kyle swim. She would have probably jumped in with him if I hadn’t come back so quickly—I’d just gone to pee for goodness sake!

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Yeah, ok.” I folded my arms. “I’m keeping my eye on you.” We walked back out into the gym. It looked like Kyle had already left for lunch—smart move on his part.

  Lunch. My hour to prepare to for the afternoon ahead. The food not as critical as the focused calm.

  “Alright, dear. Well, I’m ending my week with a massage, so I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

  “Lucky you.” I wondered if complementary massages were included in the staff benefits here… Definitely something to look into. “Have a good night, Betty. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

  I watched her head towards the locker rooms before I turned and made my way to the cafeteria. From everything that I’d had last week, the food wasn’t too bad for being in a hospital-related environment. Although, I’d yet to try the jello.

  “How’s my girlfriend?” My head whipped to the side, almost dropping the boxed chicken Caesar wrap that I’d been taking from the chilled display.

  “Excuse me?” I looked at Kyle with complete confusion. Was he talking about me? There was no way. He’d definitely flirted with me and I hadn’t completely shut him down, but I hadn’t really encouraged him either. The last thing I needed was a boyfriend right now—new or old.

  “Betty. My girlfriend,” he quickly clarified. His expression told me he realized what I’d thought.

  I laughed probably a little too excessively in an attempt to mitigate the awkwardness, but it might have only made it worse. “She’s doing really well. Honestly, I think that she is really just working towards a date with you,” I teased as we both walked towards the check-out. He already had food in his hands so he must have left the line to come talk to me. That didn’t bode too well for me.

  His face broke out into a smile. The guy was really hot. I mean, he could have passed for a physical trainer, not just a physical therapist.

  I paid for my food and lime-flav
ored La Croix—my addiction that I’d only marginally spread onto Channing and Ally; Tammy insisted that drinking it was like your foot was falling asleep to dreams of passionfruit.

  “Well, maybe when she’s done,” he said, swiping his credit card, “I’ll have to treat her to coffee.”

  “She would love that.” I began to walk towards a table and Kyle followed me. Guess we were eating lunch together.

  Calm down, Jessa. It’s a cafeteria. At work.

  “So, your first week is over. So far so good?” He literally asked me how it was going every day last week. I kept telling myself it was because he was kind of like my mentor and wanted to make sure the new girl wasn’t overwhelmed; I knew that that was only part of the reason.

  “Yeah, for the most part.” I gave a half-hearted smile. “I love the job and the place. And I’m excited to be getting more patients. I think Dr. Lev scheduled a few more with me next week.”

  “Awesome! Yeah, with the ski season coming to a close soon, we tend to get a lot more people in with minor-ish injuries.”

  We walked by a table where Monroe sat with one of the nurses and one of the radiology techs on staff. She gave us both a tight smile, probably only for Kyle’s benefit. She disliked me because I was the one working with Chance. Trust me, honey, I’d be glad to give him to you if I could. Not to mention, she was the one who ended up in the locker room with him every day at the end of our session so I don’t know what she could possibly be so unhappy about.

  “Well, I think you’re doing a great job so far, especially with Betty.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled, gratefully clinging to any encouragement I could get my hands on. I dove into my wrap, glancing at Kyle who looked like he wanted to say something else.

  “You know, Jessa, Betty isn’t the only one that I’d like to take on a date sometime…”

  And I was choking on my lettuce.

  Stupid stuff was supposed to be good for your health, not try to kill you. Then again, that might have been preferable at this very moment.