Page 40 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

I nod, words failing me. Figures that’s where Pooh and Rico and Fredo get their bullshit from.

“Don’t get that wet… you should get some sleep. We got a full day tomorrow.”

He takes a few steps back, and I slide off the corner, taking my leave quickly. It’s almost muscle memory going back to my new room, and I close and lock the door behind me.

“Stupid, stupid girl. We hate Rico. We don’t care that his grandmother wanted him to hook up with his dead brother’s baby mama,” I chastise myself, stripping off my grubby clothes all the way to the shower.

Still, shamefully, unfortunately, disgustingly… I rub one out, coming long and hard and silent with Rico's name tasting bitter on my tongue, and visions of those damned pecs, abs, and a fucking eye patch at the forefront of my mind.

Rico

Snow probably believes her life is a series of unfortunate events. And, I never want to take away from the shit she’s been through.

But maybe that’s what the term touched by fire means. Let the homie Prince tell it, fire is both destructive and cleansing. Bad and good.

Because as much bullshit as Snow has encountered, sometimes, it seems as if she bounces back, dusting herself off and trying again.

If I hadn’t seen the track marks myself, I’d have never guessed she was on that shit. Even my cousin is stumped at her new labs. There’s some slight inflammation in her liver, her blood pressure a little higher than normal.

But that’s it.

Shit that can be fixed with diet, exercise, and abstaining from drugs and alcohol.

“Rico,” Snow huffs. “Slow–”

“You wasting breath talking, Snow. Get them fucking legs up.”

It’s raining outside, or we would be in the sand. Instead, we’re in my indoor gym, watching the storm form over the ocean.

Well, I am. Snow’s about to fall on the treadmill.

I worked out before I woke her up, my damp shirt around my neck as my fingers hover over the controls. I’d just turned up the speed, and Snow was holding onto the handles for dear life, like the time on the machine doesn’t read two minutes.

“Let go and pump your hands, Snow. Ain’t no handlebars when we running on the beach.”

Her eyes balloon as she snaps her head to me, stumbling a little.

My lips spread, and I turn up the speed again. “Careful. You only gotta run a mile, and then we can start legs.”

I think she whimpers, but I can’t hear it over her feet slapping on the conveyor belt.

Maybe I can get my get back without snapping her neck.

That thought has me grinning harder.

“Rest as much as you can. I only need to check my email and then we touring the hotel.”

Snow ignores me, but I know she heard me. I don't take it personally. She can't feel her legs.

She probably hasn’t worked out since she had to relearn to walk. If you look carefully, you can see on her legs where they put rods in them, scars and indents that stick out just barely on her golden skin.

Maybe she has something to prove to herself. Maybe she has something to prove to me. But after that initial complaint, Snow took everything I gave her. For an hour straight, I worked every muscle on her lower half. Even when her legs shook like she was twerking, she completed every rep, every set.

She earned a little down time, I guess.

I smirk as she plops down on the couch in my office. She whimpers after every sip of cold water, but that’s it. Not even a glance or glare my way.

Miele bought her a whole new wardrobe with my card when she first got here. Nan’s orders, not mine. My cousin is growing up too fast for me, nothing like the shy and precocious teenager I’d met when we celebrated Fredo’s life here. I scolded her when I saw some of the things she bought for her, demanding to know where she even knew to get them.