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  Cate sipped her wine and made a small appreciative noise. “Good choice.” She gestured around the room and added, “Is it always like that?”

  Confused as to what exactly she meant, I raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “Everywhere you go here, people you know.”

  “Ohhh yeah.” Laughing softly, I continued, “It’s either other instructors or people I teach.”

  “Do you ever want to be left alone so you can just relax?”

  “No,” I replied honestly. “I like having people around me, and if I want some quiet time I can sneak off for a few runs down the mountain.” I picked up my glass. Without company, I spent too much time in my head thinking about how much I didn’t want to be stuck inside my head. It was bad enough on nights at home alone without willingly inviting it.

  Cate raised her wineglass to her mouth. “And do you? Sneak off?”

  “I try to, at least every few days if not every day.” I crossed my ankle over my knee, gently rotating my foot until the ankle joint cracked. “Sometimes I just need to regroup.”

  Cate listened intently, head cocked to the side. I cleared my throat, suddenly embarrassed about revealing so much of myself. Time to wade to safer ground. “Did you always want to be a physical therapist?”

  Cate paused before answering, “Actually no. I wanted to be a playwright but my parents were totally against it. They wanted me to go into medicine, carry on the family tradition I guess. Being a PT was a compromise.”

  I frowned. “So you weren’t that into it.”

  “Not at first, but it kind of grew on me.”

  “When?” Leaning a little closer, I clarified, “Did it grow on you, I mean.”

  “The moment Derek Andrews’s rebuilt shoulder, the one I’d worked with for six months when he played college ball, hit the home run to get the Rockies into the playoffs.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I can see how that would make you love your job.”

  “Mmm, rehabilitating an athlete is incredibly rewarding.” Cate ran her fingertip over my hand. In the wake of her touch, my skin burned and I had to suppress the shudder that had built at the base of my neck. She brought the conversation around again, gently pressing me. “Speaking of, why did you choose alpine ski racing as a career?”

  I shrugged, trying to ignore the sensation she’d left lingering under my skin. “I’ve just…always skied. My father almost made the team for the seventy-six games and he taught us as soon as we could stand. It was in his blood, and mine too apparently. He made me get a college degree but my true love has always been the mountain.” I drew my thumb down the side of the wineglass, clearing a path through the faint condensation. “If I go even a few days without, I feel off somehow, like I’ve forgotten to do something important like eat or breathe.”

  “I can imagine,” she said quietly. “What’s your degree?”

  Smiling, I shook my head. My college degree was something I’d always had mixed feelings about sharing, because most people didn’t believe me when I said I had a Bachelor’s in Engineering Physics. Years ago, I thought I could use it to design faster skis and better ski boots. Now it was just a useless framed piece of paper in a storage box back home.

  Cate brushed her hand over my arm again, to the same skin-tingling, neck-shuddering effect as last time. “Can I try guessing?”

  I pushed aside the strange feeling I’d had building since we’d first met, of knowing her but at the same time not. “Of course you can.” I set the wineglass down on my knee and turned it slowly, forcing myself to ignore the heat on my skin where she’d touched me. “Three guesses and I promise I’ll answer honestly.”

  “Psychology,” Cate said immediately.

  “Oh, good one!” I exclaimed. “But no.”

  The second guess came almost as fast. “Sports medicine?”

  “Nope, but I can see why you’d think that.” I lifted the wineglass to my lips, thoroughly enjoying watching her trying to work me out. “One more. Better think hard, Cate.”

  “Am I even close?”

  I grinned. “No.”

  Cate’s expression brought back the crease between her eyebrows. I wanted so badly to smooth it out with my thumb. She swallowed the last of her wine and offered up her final attempt. “Education?”

  Making a buzzing noise, I shook my head. “Sorry, no, but thanks for playing.”

  She caught my eye and we both burst out laughing. When she’d recovered, she glanced at me. “You will tell me sometime?”

  Still grinning, I agreed, “I will. Or you could do some digging on the Internet if you really want to find out.”

  “No, Aspen. I want you to tell me.”

  I nodded my assent as Cate snuck a peek at her watch. Subtle, but the meaning was clear. I checked mine too. A quarter to six. “You have to go,” I said.

  “I do. I’m very sorry but I said I’d be home for dinner and it takes forty minutes to get back.” Her regret sounded genuine.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  “No, stay, please. Finish your drink and enjoy yourself.”

  I drained my wine. “My drink is finished. And I have a few things to do at home.” Not entirely true, but the truth of not wanting to be there if she wasn’t didn’t seem appropriate to verbalize.

  We managed to leave without me having to stop and talk to anyone, but Rachel made a not-so-subtle I’ll call you gesture as I passed. I nodded and for the first time ever I hoped she wouldn’t make good on the promise.

  Walking down the path toward the parking lot, I spotted a patch of ice. “Watch out, there’s a slippery spot there.” I took Cate’s elbow and gently steered her to the side. Cate didn’t move away, rather she shifted closer to me. Blood rushed through my ears, louder than the alpine stream running beside the road. I held on to her for longer than necessary, only letting go when we were on safe ground again.

  Cate led me to a large white rental SUV. “This is me.” She opened the door, fiddling with her keys. “See you tomorrow?”

  I held the door open for her. “Absolutely. Thanks for the drink, and the conversation.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “Drive safely, watch out for the wildlife. The ’roos are pretty active around this time.” I closed the car door carefully, gave her a quick wave and walked away. Dropping my head down against the wind, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and began the trek back to the shuttle which would take me to where I’d parked.

  “Aspen!”

  I spun and limp-jogged awkwardly back to her with my hands still in my pockets. “Yeah?”

  Cate was out of the car, arms hooked over the top of the door. “Let me know when you’re ready to buy me that drink,” she called. She slid back into the driver’s seat, and closed the car door again.

  When her engine started up, I turned around and murmured to myself, “How about now?”

  Rachel made good on her promise, calling right as I was rolling into the carport. Ignoring the call would be easiest but also the rudest. “Rach, hey.”

  “Where’d you race off to? I thought we could hang out tonight.” In the background, there were cheers from my friends. No doubt they were listening in.

  “Just got home. Big day.”

  “Ah, you’re piking on us again. Getting soft, girl.”

  “Yeah I know, I’m lame.”

  Rachel’s voice grew quieter and muffled. “Want me to come around later?”

  I felt like cringing and was immediately ashamed. Rach hadn’t done anything to deserve a reaction like that, but the thought of being intimate with her sent a weird spark of alarm through my limbs. “Aw, Rach, I’ve had a seriously long day. Sorry but I’m just going to shower and pass out.”

  “Forced to socialize with clients after work, hey?”

  I gave what I hoped was a casual laugh. I should have known there was no way I’d ever get away with spending time with Cate in the bar without input from my friends. They were probably discussing it the moment we left. If
they’d even waited that long. “Ah, yeah, she’s persistent,” I said lightly.

  “Lucky you.”

  Even through the phone, I could hear her lack of bitterness or judgment. Rach and I both knew what we had was casual and her response made me feel a whole lot better that I didn’t feel worse about brushing her off. I gathered my gear from the passenger seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The moment the front door closed I shed my workday like a second skin, dropping my backpack beside the couch and shrugging out of my jacket on my way through the house. With or without Edward there, my nighttime routine rarely changed. Start a fire, turn all the space heaters onto full power, shower, dinner, Xbox. I changed my chipped and flaking blue nail polish to a fluorescent yellow shade while I caught up on social media and emails. The only emails were from Hayley—photos of my niece and nephew, and scans of important pieces of my mail that had been forwarded to her.

  This was so not the life I’d imagined for myself, and sometimes I couldn’t quite believe how fast and how far I’d fallen. I was in my thirties and was supposed to be married and raising a child, working on getting to the next Olympics or coaching someone else to a podium finish. Instead I was living everywhere but in the house I owned, changing my partner with every new location, and bumbling around the slopes like a novice. And I had no idea how to get back to even a semblance of the life I wanted. Even if I knew what that was.

  Edward had been to the grocery store sometime during the day and restocked not only his midnight munchies, but everything else we’d been running low on. Staring into the fridge, I settled on grilled cheese and tried to ignore the second new carton of milk that’d joined the one I bought a few days earlier. Clearly, his mind was on more important things.

  While I absentmindedly sliced and flipped, I thought about Cate back home having dinner. She’d probably whipped up something amazing for the people in her house, including the rich, attractive, and successful spouse that I’d decided she had. Afterward, she’d talk, laugh, and drink with her friends and enjoy time with her family. Then wake up to do it all over again tomorrow.

  The first mouthful of my dinner stuck in my throat. Swallowing hard I managed to push it down but once it settled I realized I was suddenly not hungry. I set the plate in the fridge, just in case my appetite revived later, and settled on the couch. After forty minutes of getting lost in a nuclear wasteland, I threw the game controller down in disgust and got ready for bed. Barely nine p.m., but there was nothing better to do.

  Staring at myself in the mirror, I brushed my teeth and forced myself to admit why Cate had gotten under my skin. My life was full of attractive women with great personalities and if I wanted sex, I had Rachel. So my feeling about Cate couldn’t be just about lust. Looking at the familiar angles of my face, it dawned on me.

  Cate was the first non-family person who’d seen what I really was underneath. Beyond that, she was the first person I’d admitted my truths to. She hadn’t poked or prodded at me, but rather sat quietly and let me come to her. The feeling of understanding, compassion, and comfort simmered below her every gentle question. She made me feel like it was my idea to tell her but without any feeling of trickery.

  My second realization came just as swiftly. Despite everything in the way, and the fact I barely knew her, I imagined Cate filling the empty space I’d had inside for so long. She’d drawn that feeling from me, awoken the desire I thought I’d lost. And that was the most tragic thing of all—to want someone I barely knew and who was so unattainable. I spat toothpaste, flipped the light off and climbed into bed alone.

  Chapter Seven

  I’d noticed that statistically my clients fell on the last run I had planned for the day. Perhaps it was some warped universe Murphy’s Law type thing. Or it was a combination of increased confidence butting up against fatigue.

  Cate’s tumble was more a slip than a fall. She didn’t slide far. She was already moving when I got to her. But none of that registered. My only thought was that she’d fallen and she could be hurt. I’ve always hated my clients falling over, but watching her was different. It was worse. In my panic to get to her, I overshot and had to hop sideways up the slope. “Are you all right? Don’t move.”

  Cate ignored me and rolled over. “Nuh-uh, I’m moving. I’m not lying facedown in snow, Aspen.”

  “Do you hurt anywhere?” My heart knocked furiously against my ribs, my pulse thudding in my ears.

  “Only my ego. And my ass.” Cate pulled her goggles up. “It’s been a while since I took a dive. And it’s every bit as embarrassing as I remember.”

  “Careful, please. Sure you’re okay?” I probably should have trusted her, given she was an adult and a medical professional, but the strange anxious surge in my stomach made rationality nearly impossible.

  “It was nothing, seriously. I’m fine. Didn’t even hit my head.” She started to shift her legs downhill, wedging the side of her skis against the slope. Cate smiled up at me. “I might need a hand. I’ve never quite mastered getting up again.”

  I planted myself on the downward slope and held out my hand. She took it and pulled herself up, grabbing my other arm to steady herself, and I kept my hand on her elbow until I was sure she could stay upright. We were almost level and finally, she looked me in the eyes. “Thanks.” Just as quickly, she looked away again and busied herself digging in a pants pocket.

  I waited silently while Cate used a cloth to clean snow from her goggles. She stood so close that her knee brushed the edge of mine, and I smelled her coconut-scented sunscreen undercut by something else I couldn’t place. Perfume or shampoo. I breathed deeply, drawing it in, and felt a tingle under my skin. Delicious.

  “Aspen?” Cate’s voice was lower than usual, the gravel more pronounced.

  “Yeah?”

  “I think I’m good.” But she was still holding me, fingers digging into my arm and making no attempt to let go. “Yes, I’m fine,” she confirmed absently. Cate’s fingers flexed and then she let go quickly, almost like she had to force herself.

  “Oh, sure. Of course.” I relaxed my grip too and slid backward, but still within range to grab her if needed. With hands now free, I unzipped my jacket, searching the inner pocket while Cate organized herself.

  Nothing. No gum, no candies. A quick check of all my pockets came up empty and the surge in my stomach rose again. I swept my gaze over the snow as though I’d find what I needed there. One day, just once, I’d like to be able deal with things like a normal person.

  “Here,” Cate said softly.

  When I looked up, she was offering me a packet of gum. Cinnamon. I hadn’t had cinnamon gum since I’d left the States in April, almost four months ago. “Thanks.” The word caught at the back of my throat. Clumsy with gloves on, I tore the plastic wrap and withdrew a stick. I chewed hard, trying to push the rolling tide away. The spicy burn in my throat was a welcome distraction from the burn in my gut.

  When I held out the packet for her, Cate shook her head. “No, you keep it. I don’t often chew gum. I bought it in the airport before we left and forgot about it.” She hooked her goggles back onto her helmet, hands around the back as she fiddled.

  “Then why—” I pulled up short as realization dawned.

  She pulled her goggles down but before they settled on her face, her eyes met mine. I didn’t think it was possible for a person’s eyes to change color but Cate’s did. Perhaps it was the light but when she looked at me, her eyes darkened from gray-blue to almost sapphire.

  “We should head…” I rasped. Clearing my throat, I finished off, “down.”

  “Good plan.” She skied off before I could respond.

  Following her, I tried to shake the feeling I’d had while holding her to keep her steady. The feeling I had whenever I was with her. Familiarity. It made no sense because I knew we’d never met, not even back when I spent a whole lot of my free time with a team of physical therapists.

  Cate sk
ied to a stop in the spot I’d told her to, where Kareela and True Blue intersected, and waited off to the side for me. I pulled up close to her. “Nice run. How’re you feeling?”

  “Really great. A lot more confident, that’s for sure.”

  “You’re looking it.”

  She touched my arm with the handle of her pole. “Everything you’ve taught me is working. You’re an amazing teacher, Aspen.”

  “Thank you.” I curled my toes inside my boots. “Cate, why are you…I don’t think there’s any need for you to keep having lessons.”

  She tilted her head. “You don’t?”

  “No.” I laughed. “Don’t tell my boss. Obviously my job is to make you keep coming back as often as possible. But I have to be honest, I don’t think there’s anything more you can learn from me. You’ve improved so much these past couple of days and for the skiing you want to do, you’re totally there.”

  “I see,” she said quietly. “I disagree. You’ve helped me enormously but beside that, I enjoy our time together. I feel like I always know where I stand with you, and it’s a nice change from the people I spend most of my days with.”

  Oh dear. I’d been thinking a lot of things I didn’t want Cate to decipher. I shifted the gum to the space between my cheek and molars. “My sister always says that I’m so easy to read I come complete with my own dictionary and translation service.”

  Cate’s smile was gentle. “Your sister is right. It’s incredibly sweet.”

  Flailing desperately for safer ground, I changed the subject. “What else would you like to learn then? Do you want to take up ski racing? If that’s the case, I can teach you what not to do.” Set off balance by her forthrightness I’d fallen back on familiar self-deprecation, and I gave myself a mental forehead slap. Self-pity is super unattractive, Aspen.

  Cate laughed. “No, I don’t want to compete. I just want to ski.”

  “I don’t want you to feel like you have to book my time and spend money for that. If you want to ski with me, all you have to do is ask.”