Page 51 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
Are you guys all set to come back next week? Joss is home and will pick you up. I’ll be in training.
Me
Yeah. Everything is set with the tickets. I just wish we felt ready to go back.
My phone rings in my hand. Expecting this, I swipe my finger across the screen and hit the speakerphone button.
“Hey.” I keep my voice even, steady.
“Hey.” There’s concern in his voice. “What’s going on?”
I sigh. “I thought I’d feel ready to deal with everything back home by now, but I just… don’t.”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
“I know, I just feel lost.” I squeeze my eyes shut, vulnerability oppressing my senses. It’s the first time I’ve said that aloud. “It feels like all we have left there is you and Joss. It’s just hard to imagine walking back into our lives like nothing’s changed.”
“I understand that. You know I do,” he says, and he’s right. I watched him rebuild his entire life after the crash. “Do what you need to do, brother. Even if it means staying longer.”
I shake my head, though he can’t see it. “We can’t. Willow starts school the first week of February. That’s only two weeks away and I want us to have a week to get settled before that.”
But, god, I wish we could.
“You’re a smart man,” he says. “I bet you could workshop a solution.”
I scoff. “Like what? Her school’s in Australia. I can’t exactly put her in school here. They’re mid-year.”
“I know. What about remote school? After Covid, you can’t tell me there isn’t some way she could do school from afar for a bit.”
That’s an idea, but… “I don’t know. I’d need to talk to the school and her teacher. And Willow. I don’t know if she’d even want to stay.”
“Well, like I said, do what you guys need to do. We’ll support you.”
I wish I could hug him. I had no idea the friend he would become when we first met as two stupid kids in college, but I’m so grateful for him now.
“Yeah. I’ll think about it. Thanks, mate,” I say, and I can hear Willow coming downstairs. “We’re about to head up the mountain. Talk to you later, yeah?”
“Yeah. Enjoy the snow, and say hi to my sister for me if you see her.”
“I will. Later, Wes.”
I’ll definitely be seeing Rory—if not on the slopes, then ideally in my bed. I’m so screwed. The more we hook up, the less I want to stop, and it’s going to end up as another thing I have to let go of when we leave.
The slopes are pristine, covered with fresh snow that sparkles like diamonds in the morning light. Willow has moved on from the beginner runs and is pretty comfortable on the intermediate slopes now. She rarely takes me out when we get off the chair anymore either, which is a bonus. I breathe a sigh of relief when today’s first exit from the chair is perfect.
Willow straps into her bindings like an expert—she’s got a knack for this sport and it makes my heart soar every time I watch her. There’s also a pang of longing that goes with it. Longing for my parents to see her like this, for them to help me figure out what on earth to do—with her, with us, with our new, smaller family… With my life. I miss them all the time, but I’ve lived without them for so long now, and I manage that grief by putting on a brave face and suffering mostly in silence. Just like I did when I was thirteen. And again at twenty when I lost my aunt and uncle.
My parents would know what to do to help me navigate this whole situation. The only other time I felt their loss so acutely was when I found out Talia was pregnant. I wanted to share that news with them more than anything—tell them they were going to be grandparents, ask for their advice. I didn’t get that opportunity, and it left a little hole in my heart for whattheylost when they died too.
“Daddy, let’s go!” Willow bellows from where she stands at the top of the run. I’m not even clipped into my second binding yet.
“Sorry, Willow Bear, I’m coming.” I make quick work of it and slide in her direction. Instead of stopping, I pass her and flip one-hundred-and-eighty degrees so we’re facing each other. “Wanna race?”
I can’t see her eyebrow raise under her goggles and helmet, but I can picture it. Her smile dazzles me and she nods beforeflying past me. This was probably a bad idea. I take off after her, the wind tickling my neck beneath my helmet.
A flat section is coming up in the terrain ahead, so I holler at Willow to keep up her speed. If she doesn’t, she won’t make it up the small hill at the end. My focus is on her, gauging whether she’s going to have enoughoomphto crest the hill, so I don’t see the person standing just at the top until it’s too late. I slide my board perpendicular to the slope to slow my speed and attempt to maneuver around them, but I clip the edge of their board with mine.
Using every bit of skill in my arsenal, I flip around, hoping I can catch them before they fall. I register only one thing before we tumble together into the snow—turquoise eyes.
