Author: Sara Wolf
Date: 2013-10-02 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; New Adult; Contemporary Romance; College; Young Adult; Family; Adult
Description: After suffering through heartbreak, Rose is determined to move on without Lee. She can’t cling to her first love forever, and she knows that. As long as he’s happy with his decision, she’ll struggle to move on. But when Lee's sister Grace invites her to a photoshoot in the French Alps for spring break, Rose quickly realizes it’s a trap – Lee and his new fiance Kiera are there too. Kiera toys mercilessly with Lee and Rose and their feelings for each other. Even if Rose can muster the courage to be happy for him and Lee can suppress his pent-up desire for her, neither of them can deny there is s

“You know how serious she is about this!” Lee exclaims. “Please, Rose, I know it sounds extreme, and, okay, a little crazy, but Kiera will stop at nothing to keep us apart. Nothing.”

“Then why are you with her? I thought – I thought you –”

“You thought wrong.” Lee steps into me, tilting my head up as if to kiss me. His hands are cold, but beneath the chilly skin I can feel the warm flow of his blood. My body tingles, an electric wire being dragged across my every nerve.

DISARRANGED

Book 2 of the Arranged Series

A novel by SARA WOLF

Sara Wolf

ARRANGED

Copyright ©2013 by Sara Wolf

All rights reserved. This work or any portion thereof may not be utilized or reproduced in any way, with exception of review purposes, without the written consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real persons, events, names, or locations are coincidental and a product of the author’s imagination.

For questions, concerns, or comments, please contact the author at sarawolfbooks@gmail.com

Chapter One

In Which Rose Jensen Wants to Fall

I look out the window of the airplane and try to imagine what it’d be like to fall through the puffy sea of clouds.

Not that I want to die – no, I’m not that depressed. I just envy the birds. I also envy the other people on this plane who don’t have to sit next to an overweight man snoring and mashing his pudgy arm into mine. He takes up two and a half seats, at least.

I sigh and huddle against the window, pulling the thin blanket over me. The flight attendants walk the aisles and collect trash, speaking in low, gentle French. A year ago, I never would’ve thought I’d be on a plane to France – the one place in the world I’d dreamed about visiting since I was in high school. Then again, a year ago I never thought my heart would be broken. Or that I’d ever be able to say ‘I had a boyfriend’.

But now I can say that. I had a boyfriend, once upon a time.

I shake my head to get rid of the depressing thoughts and concentrate on the clouds. The morning sun peeks over the steely Atlantic Ocean. I’ll be jetlagged for days – the flights from L.A. to New York and then New York to Paris are killer-long. But even the jetlag can’t contain my excitement. I feel more alive and happier than I have in a long time. I’m visiting France! France, the home of the world’s best cafes and pastry chefs! Not to mention the scenery – parks and vineyards and the Eiffel Tower. My inner cheesy tourist is excited as hell.

When Grace first tried to convince me to come to France for spring break, I argued against it. I gave excuses like ‘too far’ and ‘too expensive’. She’s on a photoshoot there in the Alps at a ski resort. A place like that is way too fancy for me, but she wore me down with her constant nagging. She even paid for the ticket, claiming it was cheaper if she bought two instead of one.

She’d been nothing but gentle after she learned what happened with Lee and I. The night he announced his engagement to Kiera, she and Jen were the first ones I called. They came to my dorm, gave me cocoa and manicures and tried to talk me through it. Jen was outraged, and kept threatening to beat Lee up. Grace was quiet, a deadly quiet with a terrifyingly serious look on her face. I later learned she confronted Lee about what happened back at the apartment, but he packed his things and left without a word. She hadn’t heard from him since.

Neither had I. When I asked after him at the office, they said he left UCLA. Transferred out. But they wouldn’t tell me where.

I shake my head harder. No. I’m not going to think about him. Even if Grace is his sister, she’s my friend, too. I’m here for her. I’m here for a vacation. Exams had been tough, and Pierre hadn’t let me take extra shifts anymore at Bistro Miel. He said I was working too much. But that was impossible. If I was working too much, my heart wouldn’t ache constantly, would it? I would be distracted. I wouldn’t catch myself thinking about how life would’ve been different if I’d marched up to the stage that night and snatched Lee’s hand away from hers. Sometimes it keeps me up at night – could I have stopped them even if I confronted them? Or was marrying Kiera what Lee really wanted? She is beautiful. And smart. She’s experienced and fashionable, all the things I’m not. All the things guys are supposed to like.

It’s okay. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. ‘It’s okay’. When I feel the pressure on my chest I say ‘it’s okay’. When my lungs and heart are burning with regret, I say ‘it’s okay’. Sometimes I have dreams about that night in the hotel, the Christmas lights flickering in my eyes and the crowd of well-dressed people clapping and cheering. Lee and Kiera are on the stage, holding hands. And I dream about what would happen if I’d been a different person.

If I was braver, I would’ve stormed up to the stage and grabbed Lee, punched Kiera, and never looked back. But I’m not brave. How could I be, when I saw how Lee looked at her? He looked so sincere, so happy. I couldn’t ruin that, even if it ruined me.

I shouldn’t think about him. I’m on my way to France, to have fun and try to put everything behind me. No studying. No thinking about aching wounds. Just lots of good food and sleep and seeing museums and shops and parks. Grace talked about ‘French boys’, but I can’t think about boys without thinking about Lee, his lips, his voice. It’s impossible for me to even consider dating, or even hooking up, at this point.

When the plane finally lands, I feel horribly groggy and probably look worse, but Grace just smiles when she sees me come out of the gate. It’s a brilliant smile – I don’t realize until that moment how much I missed seeing her and her stunning beauty. Her hair’s in a loose ponytail and she’s wearing a cheap sundress, but she makes it look worth hundreds. She’s skinnier than I remember, but her hug is strong.

“You look great,” I try to match her smile. She takes one of my bags.

“So do you! Who told you to get prettier while I was gone?”

“I’m not really that –”

“Oh spare me your crippling modesty for one day, please,” She huffs. “You’re adorable. Just wait until you see the things French water can do for your skin. And the air is so clean up there you won’t believe it – much better than L.A’s smog.”

The airport doesn’t look any different than the ones back home, except the signs are in French, and there’s a Starbucks every two feet, and everyone seems to move exceptionally fast – like they have some place to be. Grace pulls my suitcase and I take the bags, and she ushers me into a black SUV with a driver. She says something in French and we drive through tunnels and narrow roads, Grace pointing out each shop and café like she knows them intimately.

“That’s right,” I say. “Lee said –”

Grace watches me carefully. I haven’t said his name out loud in front of her for a while. Or anyone, for that matter. This is a vacation. Vacation. No more thinking about sad things. He wouldn’t want you to be sad, Rose. I shake my head and force a smile.

“You spent time here in Paris, right? When you were younger.”

Her dark eyes soften. “Yes. My first year with my agency, they sent me here. I like L.A the most, but Paris is a close second. They’re very alike in strange, unexpected ways.”

“How so?”

“The people are pushy in the same way. And the boys are the same,” She winks. “Very cute but very stupid.”

I laugh and cut off when Grace frantically leans over me to roll down my window.

“Look! Over there!”

My mouth nearly falls open – the Eiffel Tower is on our left. I scrabble for my phone and take a picture to send back to Mom and Dad and Riley. Grace asks the driver to pull over and grabs my hand.

“C’mon! Let’s take some close-ups.”

There’s a large swathe of grass in front of the tower, where couples and other tourists gather. Grace laughs as I strike silly poses and pretend to squish the tower with my fingers. Even her silly poses look model-esque, and her smile is to die for. Grace asks a passing woman to take a picture of us in front of the tower. We huddle close and give our best smiles.

I send the picture to Jen, who texts me back.

‘Try not to hog all the French boys to yourself, hot stuff. And tell Grace to eat more.’

Grace rolls her eyes when I show her. “I’m eating just fine. It’s all the exercise – we have to trek out in the snow at five in the morning for some of the shoots.”

As we get back in the car, I work up the courage to ask; “How are you two doing? Um, romance-wise?”

“As well as we can be when I’m six thousand miles away from her. She gets paranoid whenever I go to Europe. She thinks some European girl will sweep me off my feet and I’ll leave her.”

“Aren’t you a European girl?”

Grace’s eyes flash with amusement. “Good point. I suppose it’ll be me doing the seducing.” She motions around us to the tourists. “Which naïve American girl should I corrupt first?”

I laugh harder than I have in months. Back in the car, Grace leans her head on my shoulder.

“Thank you for coming,” She murmurs. “I was lonely.”

We pass through a tunnel, the darkness calming. The jetlag hits me, catches up and bludgeons me over the head with exhaustion. I pat her hand and lean my head against hers.

“So was I.”

***

French cars are smaller, cuter, painted in shades of sky blue and rust red. The roads are narrow, but once we get out of the city the highway is just as wide as the ones back home – except everyone is driving on the opposite side. The highway gives to a winding mountain road, trees on every side and the white-capped purple ridge of the Alps in the distance. After hours of being in the air without sleeping, I nestle into the seat and pass out. When I wake up again, Grace is shaking me.

“Rose, we’re here! C’mon!”

The car door is open, and it’s white as far as I can see – a parking lot surrounded by snow. The air coming through the open door is cold and biting. The view of the mountain forest from up here is breathtaking. I get out on shaky legs and stretch. Grace is making a snowball.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn.

“What, afraid of a little snow, L.A. girl?” She smirks. I duck her snowball and scoop some up and form a ball. She shrieks as I throw it at her butt. The driver gets out and starts getting our bags. He rolls them along the sidewalk to the ski lodge I hadn’t noticed before. I was so entranced by the snow I didn’t look behind me, to where the massive, homey wooden lodge is lit with warm lights. Snow packs on the roof like frosting on a gingerbread house. It’s almost like a fairytale. Grace chucks another snowball at me, but I’m already trotting towards the lodge. The driver stops in the doorway.

“Thank you for helping with the bags,” I say. “I’ve got it from here.”

He tips his hat and leaves. Grace flounces up from behind me and suddenly I feel something cold and wet slide down my shirt. I yelp.

“That’s what you get for running from a fight!” She laughs.

I shake snow out of my jeans and grumble threats at her back as I follow her in. A giant fireplace greets us first, the smell of burning wood and clean mountain air mixing nicely. Other tourists gather on the plush chairs, some decked out in ski-gear. While Grace talks to the receptionist in hesitant French, I go over to the huge windows facing the slopes. There’s snow as far as I can see, pine trees heavy with drifts and skiers and snowboarders maneuvering down hills. A ski lift towers over all, shuttling people to and fro from the top of the ridge. Grace grabbing my arm jolts me out of my staring.

“C’mon, our room is on the third floor.”

The elevators are packed with tourists speaking languages I barely recognize. Our room is at the end of the hall. It isn’t fancy, but it’s certainly warm, with rich rugs and wooden walls. Gas lamps and a fireplace heat everything up. Two beds are covered in quilts and throw pillows. Grace’s luggage is strewn on her side. I throw my stuff on the other bed.

Grace picks up a brochure and tosses it at me. “Check it out and see if there’s anything you want to do. They’ve got massage, yoga, and of course, skiing and snowboarding. You probably don’t know how, but there’s free classes.”

“Totally free?” I quirk a brow.

“The agency signed me up for a few, but I already know how to ski. It’s all yours.” She walks over to the mini-fridge and opens it up. “And look! All the booze intact. I stocked up just before you came.”

“Do I look like I need to get drunk that badly?” I laugh nervously.

“I just figured…you know.” Grace fidgets with her hair. “I figured you’d want to have fun. Take your mind off…things.”

“You don’t have to make up for anything just because you’re his sister, Grace.”

“I know. I know that. But I still feel responsible, somehow. If only I could reach through our genes and punch some common sense into him.”

I unpack my shirts slowly, carefully, as if concentrating hard enough on making everything neat inside the drawers will keep my mind off that night. And Lee.

“If you want to talk about it –”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.” I smile. “The Beginner’s Ski course sounds fun. I think I’ll do that. It starts at one. That gives me enough time for a nap – this jetlag is killer.”

Grace’s dark eyes are tender and understanding. She tries to match my smile and picks up the phone.

“Alright, it looks like it’s at noon tomorrow. I’ll tell them you’re signing up for it. There’s rental ski gear at the desk, too.”

I put my toothbrush and makeup case in the bathroom. When I come out, she’s lying on the bed, looking at the ceiling.

“What about you, Ms. Haute Couture? Any relationship problems you want to talk about?” I ask. She sighs.

“Jen and I’ve never been apart this long. We Skype every other night but it’s still so hard not being able to see her in the flesh. Not that I’m not grateful. I mean, at least I can still Skype with her. Some people can’t even do that.”

Lee never answered the texts I sent him, and when I tried to call him the voicemail said the phone had been disconnected. I hadn’t heard a single word from him since that night he tied me up in the hotel room – something I still can’t think about without blushing ferociously. But the blushing always devolves to pain flickering across my face. I try not to let it show.

Grace jumps up from the bed. “I’ll let you sleep. I’ve got a photoshoot down in the forest. We’re taking snowmobiles, and I think one of the cameramen is bringing a dogsled.”

“Try not to freeze your butt off.” I smirk.

“What butt? Models aren’t allowed to have butts,” She laughs and grabs her coat, whirling in the doorway and pointing at me. “Oh, and we have dinner reservations tonight.”

“We do?”

“Yup, seven-thirty at the four-star in the lobby – Jacques’. Ferdinand’s been dying to see you.”

Ferdinand – he was the photographer who took that picture of Grace and I that ended up in Seventeen. In the whirlwind of the last few months I’d almost forgotten all about my secret stint as a model. But the thought of seeing him again and hearing his strange accent brings a little smile to my face.

“Sounds great. I’ll try to dress up.”

Grace winks. “That’s my girl.”

Before I fall asleep in the cool bed, I look at my phone longingly. It’s stupid to think that just because I’ve met up with Grace again, Lee would contact me. But they look so much alike – the same shade of dark hair and intimidating height. Even their olive skin tone is the same. With Grace around, I can almost taste Lee’s ghost. I feel a step closer to him, and after months of life without him one step feels like seven hundred. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. Hanging around with Grace is now just an excuse to be that much closer to Lee. And that’s creepy ex-girlfriend behavior on my part. Besides, I’m not giving Grace my full attention as a friend. She doesn’t deserve that.

I pull the blankets over my head and stare at my phone until I fall asleep. Praying. Praying that he’ll call and I’ll hear his voice one last time. One last time, and I’d remember how to breathe again. One last time, and I can live my life without him a little easier. Do I sound desperate? Am I one of those clingy girls I promised myself I’d never be?

Is it too much to ask for just three seconds of closure?

Three seconds of his voice saying goodbye?

***

LEE

***

Kiera smiles at a passing waiter and crosses her legs under the table. I pick at my fettuccine and try to ignore the way her foot rubs on my ankle. Even at a ski resort in the mountains, she prefers fashionable clothes over sensible ones – her feet inside tiny beaded sandals. She rubs higher, over my shin, and scoots her chair forward to give her legs more length. I know where this is going. I sigh into my wine and adjust my suit cuffs.

“Is this really necessary? Can’t you wait until we’re alone?”

She pouts her baby-pink lips. “You used to like exhibitionism.”

“I used to like a lot of things. Like freedom.”

She laughs and waits until the waiter is come and gone with water. The restaurant buzzes around us, the predominant language French. I don’t know how Kiera convinced me into coming to the goddamn Alps – something about a vacation and a change of scenery. Even if she thinks she’s clever, she’s so transparent sometimes. She just wanted me away from L.A. Away from the people I love. Her constant jealousy of any woman who looks at me or talks to me is nauseating. Her jealousy moves her like red-hot puppet strings, burning her and everyone who tries to take control.

Her foot inches up my leg, presses against my inner thigh, and rests on my crotch. Between the dress pants and her rubbing, I’m involuntarily hard in seconds. Even if I hate her, we were together for a while. She knows exactly which buttons to push to turn me on, and it sickens me. My reactions to her come-ons sicken me. I try to control it – push out the image of her face leering across the table. Any other man would die to be in this position; she’s had the male attention of the entire restaurant the moment we walked in. But I know who she really is. I know the heartless child under her perfect façade of tanned, rich-girl brand names. She doesn’t want a relationship, or a boyfriend. She wants a toy. And I’m just the toy she’s figured out how to play with for a long time without breaking it.

I’ll never break. Not as long as I’m protecting someone.

Kiera’s foot moves faster, in circles, and I clutch my fork with white knuckles and clench my thighs together to stop her movements.

“Cut it out.”

She smiles. “I want to see you lose it, Lee. Right here, right now. And if you ask me to stop again, I know a girl who could use a mystery stalker harassing her. I have so many willing criminals my father got out of jail, which one would be best for her, do you think? There’s a very sweet suspected rapist who got out recently. Ex-military. I think he’d be wonderful.”

I slam my fist on the table. It makes the people around us look. Kiera only smiles wider. Everything in me burns to lurch across the table and shake her. She wouldn’t dare. But the glint in her eyes says she would. She would definitely dare to do that to Rose if it made me squirm, if it punished me. And it would punish me like no hellfire ever could. Slowly, guiltily, I unclench my thighs.

“That’s a good boy.”

I want to sneer at her, to keep my face blank and rob her of the pleasure of seeing me ashamed. I focus on the space over her shoulder, to where people go in and out of the restaurant. Focus. Don’t let her win. Don’t show any emotion.

In the restaurant doorway, I see something that punches the air out of me.

Dirty blonde hair. A slender, tall frame, a gentle face with long-lashed eyes and a happy smile on her face. She’s smiling. Suddenly everything in me warms, the bitter ice of Kiera’s ministrations fading. Her smile melts my façade so easily, but panic quickly rises in my chest.

Rose is here.

It’s simultaneously the thing I dreaded and the thing I burned for.

She’s here, in the same room as me. It’s been months. The sweater she’s wearing hugs her chest and her jeans cling to every curve, every curve I memorized, every curve I try to remember in my dreams, every curve I try to replace Kiera’s with when she’s under me, writhing.

I keep a straight face as Kiera’s rubbing grows faster. But my eyes are locked on Rose. Rose’s hair. Rose’s eyes. The way she smiles as she looks up at the chandelier, enchanted.

Rose.

I pretend it’s Rose, and give in to the pleasure.

***

ROSE

***

The clinking of the restaurant’s silverware and glasses grows louder as I round the corner. The smell of lamb and vegetable stew tantalizes my nose. The low, constant murmur of French is becoming a soothing sort of lullaby, and makes walking around really nice. No one stares, or even glances my way twice. I might as well not exist, and that’s exactly what I need right now – peace and quiet and not-existing.

My nap was refreshing, and cleared nearly all the dark clouds of sadness out of my head. My stomach growls and my nose leads me to the restaurant, Jacques. It’s all fancy tables and tiny candles flickering on top of flawless white tablecloths. The people dining look more like movie stars than casual tourists – all dolled up. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, dripping with crystal teardrops that reflect the bright golden light. I feel a smile crack my face. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

The hostess at the podium gives a small ‘ahem’, and I quickly realize I must look like an idiot, gaping up at the ceiling. I close my mouth and flush a bright red.

“Um. Hi. B-Bonjour.”

“Good evening, miss,” The host’s English is perfect, with a rich French accent. “How may I help you?”

“I have a reservation? Under, um, Grace. Grace Montenegro.”

She looks down the list and flashes a smile at me. “Right this way.”

She leads me past tables and to a booth in the very back. I thank her and order a root beer, and she leaves me with the menus. Grace said she’d be back in time for dinner, but I still look kind of pathetic at this booth, alone. Not that I mind. It gives me a few minutes to compose myself, to dredge up topics to discuss with Grace. When I flip open the menu my eyes nearly bug out – everything is so expensive. I close it quickly and sip my water. Maybe I’ll just have a drink for dinner, instead. Or bread. That sounds much better than a forty dollar steak. I’m still a student – every little expensive thing I see I calculate into my student loans, even if they are mostly paid thanks to Grandpa’s will.

I smile and stir my ice. Grandpa would’ve liked it here.

Over the heads of the dining crowd, I see a familiar face. She looks at me for a moment, all bright blonde hair and sparkling eyes. She smiles. And that's when everything in my stomach revolts. I'm not hungry at all anymore. The root beer the waitress brings looks like sludge and tastes like ash. She asks if I'm ready to order but all I can manage is a dry, hoarse 'in a while'. The waitress nods and leaves me to crumble.

Kiera is here.

She looks as beautiful as ever - maybe even more so. The cruel glint in her eye as she looks my way again doesn't make her any less pretty. I want to throw up but there's nothing to throw up into. I breathe slow, deep, the memories of last Christmas burning hot against the back of my eyelids. I can't go there. I'm better, now. This is a vacation.

Kiera gets up to use the restroom. I watch her go out of the corner of my eye.

My nausea gets even worse when I see who's sitting across from her.

A young man in a fitting, expensive-looking suit, with amber skin and hazel irises stares at me. His hair is as messy as ever. My heart contorts when I see the shadows under his eyes and the faint frown lines around his mouth.

Lee.

He's tired. He's tired and worried and skinnier than I've ever seen him. And he's staring at me like he's seen a ghost.

My brain screams at me to play it cool, to remember he's engaged to a beautiful girl he obviously loves a lot. My heart cries out to run to him, to wrap my arms around him and never let go again. My two conflicting sides wrestle for mere seconds before reaching a tortured compromise - I raise my hand and wave. I even manage to put on a semi-convincing smile. Or at least I hope it's convincing. I can't tell, because all Lee does is nod, stiffly, back at me. The balloon of conflicted joy in my chest nearly punctures with that one movement. He didn't even smile. His eyes flickered for one moment, but I could've just been imagining it.

He doesn't care about me, anymore.

I tighten my grip on my root beer, the coldness seeping into my palm almost painfully. I should've expected this. It's okay. It's natural. He's engaged. You don't get engaged to someone when you care about someone else. Your feelings for everyone else cool in comparison to your feelings for your fiancé. Maybe he does still care about me, but it's muted, now. And that's fine. That's how it should be!

I keep saying it's fine in my head, but every time I try to reassure myself I just feel more and more like throwing up.

I grip the straw with shaking fingers and sip. I glance at the menu, pretending to be interested in what I want to eat. I can feel Lee's eyes on me, like two lasers piercing through my layers of clothes and down to my very skin. We haven't seen each other in months. That gap in time looms before us - a huge wall I have no right to climb, and one he obviously wants to stay behind.

The waitress comes back, and I offhandedly order a salad. Nothing solid. If I eat anything too solid it'll just be harder to throw back up, and I feel like I'm going to throw up any second. I won't risk it. Lee stares at me the whole time I'm ordering, and finally I muster up the courage to look at him again. His expression has changed. It's soft, now, the corners of his eyes turned down and his mouth open just a little, like he's about to say something -

"Fancy seeing you here, Rose!"

Kiera's voice booms, and I look up. She slides into the seat opposite me in the booth and smiles. I don't smile back. Part of me, the polite part, says I should. The part of me that still cares about Lee says I definitely should - she's the one he picked to marry. She'll be Lee's wife this coming fall. But the part of me that was back-stabbed, double-crossed, and played by her knows better. So I settle for smiling with my mouth, but not my eyes, just to let her know I mean business.

"Hi. What are you doing here?"

"Lee and I are on vacation," she says, twirling an extra napkin in her manicured fingers. "You?"

'Lee and I'. The words hit hard, and close to home, but I suck it up and smile brighter.

"I'm here with Grace for vacation. You know her, right? Lee's sister."

"Of course!" Kiera laughs. "Of course I know her. Model girl. Really gorgeous."

"Ooh, are we talking about me? That's my favorite subject," Grace's voice reverberates. She walks over, her makeup photoshoot-flawless and her jacket still dusted with snow. She takes it off to reveal a slim red dress, and sits beside me. Kiera's eyes narrow.

"We were talking about you!" Kiera's smile looks forced, but her voice is perfectly natural. She's still the best actress I've ever met. "I had no idea you'd be here, Grace, or I'd have invited you to dinner with Lee and I. I should get to know my future sister-in-law, after all."

Grace laughs, but nothing about the sound is pleasant. It's bitter, rough around the edges.

"I'm sure you're very excited to get to know a sister-in-law who hates you."

Kiera freezes touching a spoon. Grace just smiles wider. Lee is watching us intently, his eyes riveted to me.

"That's right. You heard me. Get out of here, and never speak to me again."

Kiera flinches, glares at me, and then composes herself all in one expert instant.

"Let me know if you change your mind. I think you'll find me better company than that thing."

Kiera sneers in my direction. I almost shrink back, but Grace's courage and the months I spent healing strengthen me. Lee's watching, too. I can't afford to look weak. All thoughts of being nice to Kiera just because he chose her fly out the window as I frown.

"Grace and I are friends," I say. "And we're having dinner together right now. So you need to leave."

Kiera curls her lip and stands. "I had no idea you were capable of growing a backbone."

"I had no idea you were capable of looking so ugly," I fire back.

Grace makes a giggle-snort beside me. Kiera goes red down to her roots, grabs her purse and storms back to Lee's table. She snaps something at him, and marches out of the restaurant. Grace gives me a light victory punch on the shoulder, and I smile. The breath I'd been holding in around Kiera puffs out of me. I feel so much lighter. But then I meet Lee's eyes again, and the weight descends heavier than ever. But his gaze has changed. Where it once was stony it's now warm, the deep, joyous twinkle I remember so fondly lighting his eyes from within even as Kiera fumes at him, snaps something I can't hear to him, and stomps out of the restaurant. There's a tense sort of quiet as Lee and I look at each other. Finally, Grace stands and walks over to his table, pulling him up by the arm and leading him to ours. With every step they get closer, and the sound of my beating heart in my ears gets louder.

Grace sits him next to me, and sits across from us. His body heat sears into my left side, and the spicy-aftershave smell of him wafts up from his collar. He's so close. He's real and close and right next to me after months of nothingness. I clutch my napkin in my fingers and pick at it to distract myself from the ghostly friction flying between us.

The waitress comes up and Grace orders gnocchi.

"And you, miss?" The waitress asks me. I start in my seat and browse the menu quickly, frantically.

"I-I'll have the asparagus alfredo."

"One asparagus alfredo. And you, sir?"

Lee clears his throat. "I'm fine."

Grace pouts. "C'mon, Lee! You weren't eating anything! I saw you pushing your food around. Now that she's gone you can properly eat. So order!"

"Just the caprese salad will be fine," he says. When the waitress is gone, Grace sits up straighter and smiles.

"So, Lee. You didn't tell me you and your fiancé were coming here."

"I didn't know until yesterday," he says. His voice is lower than I remember, softer.

"Ah, a spur of the moment kind of trip, huh?"

"How's Jen?" He changes the subject.

"Playing some sweet LA gigs. Recording stuff. Hates your guts. Same as ever. Can't say I blame her, though."

Grace's gaze flickers to me, and I rivet my eyes to the ice in my root beer, stirring it with the straw instead of meeting her glance.

"You remember Rose, of course," Grace says. I tense up. Lee keeps staring straight ahead at Grace instead of looking at me.

"It's nice to see you again," he says stiffly.

"You too," I say as enthusiastically as I can. "You - You look well."

"You don't."

Grace raises an eyebrow. I feel like someone's dumped a bucket of ice into my stomach. Lee takes a sip of water, never taking his eyes off the space above Grace's head as he speaks.

"You look thinner. Have you been eating?"

"Y-Yes," I say. Do I really look that underfed?

"There's dark circles under your eyes," He continues. "You've been sleeping alright?"

"You have them too," I counter. "Yours are way bigger than mine."

Grace smothers a laugh behind a warm bread roll. Lee still doesn't look at me, but under the table I can see his fist clench on his thigh.

"It doesn't matter what I have," He insists. "If you aren't sleeping well -"

"You look like a zombie!" I raise my voice. A peal of Grace's laughter escapes from behind the bread. People from other tables turn and stare. Lee's so shocked he tilts his head and looks at me, but I falter under the intensity of his gaze and glance away.

"A-A good-looking zombie," I correct myself. "But you just don't look very happy, I think. You...you should look happier. You're getting married soon. That's supposed to be one of the happiest times in your life, right?"

Grace's giggling drops off suddenly. Lee's other hand forms a fist on his other leg. Somehow it feels like I've said something wrong. Maybe I have. But he doesn't look happy at all, and that's hurting me more than he can ever know.

"I'm sorry," I stammer. "It's none of my business."

Lee opens his mouth, but just then the waitress leans in with our food. Grace digs in, and Lee shoots me a look before taking a small bite of his. My stomach rumbles, and I devour the delicious alfredo quickly. Grace looks up halfway through her gnocchi.

"How long are you two staying here?" She asks. Lee frowns.

"Two weeks, I think."

"That's about how long we're staying," Grace says. "We should do something together, provided you aren't tied down by that bitch."

Lee's eyes get dark at the word. I swallow quickly.

"She's not really - I mean," I try to make up for Grace's lack of tact. "She's mean, but she's important to you. So she's not a bitch. Not to me, anyway."

"She's a bitch to you most of all," Lee murmurs. My eyes widen, and Grace makes a pleased humming noise in her throat. Before I can say anything, Lee puts his fork down and stands.

"I'll pay you back later, Grace. I have to go."

Grace waves it off. "Don't worry about it. See you around."

Lee nods to me, and I return his nod softly. Saying 'goodbye' would feel too formal, and saying 'see you later' would seem too casual. Words between us still feel stiff, a little rusty.

I got to see him.

The thing I'd wanted for months now just happened. He's here, for a few weeks, and so am I. I got what I wanted. I have the perfect chance in front of me - the perfect chance to say goodbye, properly.

And that's all I can ask for.

But if I can help it, I want to see Lee happier. That's Kiera's territory now, not mine, but if I can bring a little of his old smile back to him, that'd be the best goodbye present for him, and for me.

Chapter Two

In Which Rose Jensen Can’t Breathe

***

LEE

***

I slam the hotel door shut and lean against it, cradling my head in my hands. Every fiber in my body screams for me to go back out there, find Rose, and pull her into me. Sitting next to her had done things to my body I'd all but forgotten about - her smell, the way her skin looked under the low candlelight. I'm lucky I got out of there without going insane. The food had helped distract me, Grace's pointed comments had helped fill me with guilt, and that was distracting too. Guilt. More guilt. Rose's hurt expression had given me guilt, too, but it's better that way. The more guilt I feel, the more I can cover the burning flame of desire in the pit of my stomach. It douses it, keeps it cool when I can't possibly control it. I have to use it as a weapon, a shield, or else I'll touch Rose and there will be no stopping me from there.

And I can't do that. I can't touch her at all. If I so much as look at her wrong, Kiera will let loose her hounds of debauched war. Her father's criminal clients would jump at any amount of money Kiera threw at them, and he'd be none the wiser.

If I don't protect Rose by ignoring her, by stamping down the fire that burns for her in my body, Kiera will torture her, emotionally, psychologically, and physically.

"Lee?" Kiera's voice filters in from the room. "There you are!"

She storms up to me, in her pajamas and with minimal makeup. She never really takes her make up off, it just sort of downgrades depending on where she is. In the bedroom she wears a bit. In private she wears hardly any, but she still wears it. It's like her armor, her way of affirming her beauty over everyone else, even when she's alone. It's her vanity at its finest.

"What took you so long?" She snaps. "I told you not to hang around them."

"Grace is my sister, Kiera," I sigh and take my tuxedo overcoat off, throwing it on the bed. "She's family. I'm not just going to drop everything and ignore my family."

Kiera taps her foot and crosses her arms over her chest, thinking for a moment before rolling her eyes.

"Fine. Do what you want. But don't forget - Farlon and I are close. If you tell Grace anything, I'll know."

I unbutton my shirt slowly and scoff. "Tell her what? That you're blackmailing me into marrying you? That I'm being a bastard to the girl I love -"

"Used to!" Kiera shrieks. The volume startles me, and it must startle her, because she looks surprised at herself. Her eyes widen, then narrow, and she lowers her voice.

"The girl you used to love."

"No," I correct, and undo my last button. The cool night air tickles my stomach. "I still love her. No amount of blackmail can change that."

I feel the antagonistic tension in the room thicken. Kiera's moods are almost tangible - even if she is a liar and an actress, she's miserable at hiding how she really feels. It taints the air with sourness and fills up the whole room with an angry cloud.

Nothing about her is attractive to me, anymore. But sometimes, if I look hard enough, I can see the old her - the pretty girl who, even though she was spoiled, never set out to intentionally hurt anyone. She was different then, softer and less tinged with darkness. I don't know what happened to change her. Maybe that darkness was always there, and I was too naive to see it beyond the glitz and glamor that she radiated at all times. Maybe that's how she hides it. But somewhere beneath the cruelty, I still glimpse fragments of the old her, and that hurts me. She's still in there, but she's being unforgivably evil.

Then again, I never properly broke up with her. It was a physical thing, and as far as I knew she was fine with it. And then I was sent to UCLA and met Rose. I told Kiera I was leaving, of course, but I never said I wanted the thing between us to be over, even if it was in the midst of deteriorating. I wasn't brave enough. I didn't give her a clear boundary.

She never got a proper goodbye from me.

She's moved now, sitting on the bed. She hugs her oversized t-shirt around her, and before she sneers, her face is utterly helpless and sad. Pathetic, almost.

"It's too late," she says. "I'm not sorry, and it's too late. So don't even think about going there."

She takes the right side of the bed, and buries her head under the covers.

"Did something go wrong?" I ask lightly. "Did Grace and Rose say something you didn't like?"

"You heard it," she snarls. "The whole restaurant heard it."

"I didn't hear anything."

"I know you did," she says. "She called me ugly."

I feel my heart skip a little half-beat. Rose? Talking back? She seemed petrified of Kiera at the Christmas party last year. And she hates insulting people who aren't me. I'm almost proud of her. Kiera's usually good about not letting insults get to her, but apparently this one was a little too much for her, even if it is juvenile. She knows she's not ugly, and her confidence is through the roof, so her reaction must be because it was Rose who said it. I have to calm her down before she decides to do something to Rose.

"But you're not ugly. Clearly," I use my best soothing voice. She throws the covers off to glare at me for a long moment, before she snorts and ducks back under.

"You're just trying to protect her."

I motion around the hotel room. "Marrying you. Tolerating you. Putting up with you even after you've ripped my heart. All of that is to protect her, yes."

"Why?" She mumbles. "Why not me? Why didn't you ever feel that way about me?"

Jealousy. It's ripe in her voice, rotting and pungent like an overdue fruit. The tiny bit of softness I had for her in my memory hardens instantly, growing spikes.

"I don't know." My voice is icy, and it makes her flinch. A part of me celebrates that as a small victory. I made the witch flinch. "I don't know, and I'll probably never know."

That night she doesn't try to touch me. She stays on her side of the bed. I'm free to dream about Rose as I have for the last few months, with no manicured fingers reaching into my head to twist it into something sick and poisonous.

For tonight, I've won.

I've won the battle, but I'm losing the war very, very badly.

***

ROSE

***

Grace shakes me awake at nearly noon.

My body was static-charged with the knowledge Lee was close by in the hotel, so even though we went to bed at twelve after a few glasses of wine, I didn't fall asleep until at least three.

"C'mon!" Grace urges. "You've got a ski lesson to get to!"

I bolt out of bed, panic bubbling up from my stomach. I grab silk underwear to go beneath my jeans and keep me warm, and a huge sweater. The shower is already steamy from Grace, and I'm in and out and dressed warmly in less than ten minutes. She pushes a piece of toast into my hand and shoves me out the door.

"I called the front desk! They've got a pair of rental skis for you all ready, so get down there!"

"Thanks Grace, you're a lifesaver."

She waves me off, and I start down the hall. The front desk hands over a pair of red skis and I pull on my jacket and waddle outside. The brochure said we'd be meeting in front of the Piroux Lodge - a massive building half-buried in snow, like a giant wooden turtle lit from within. There's a small group just outside on the west face of the lodge, and I hurry over to them as quickly as my boots allow.

"Are you here for the beginner lesson?" A man with pale blonde hair and a winsome smile grins at me. His French accent isn't very thick, but it's still noticeable. I nod, and he motions for me to pick a spot in the circle. I wedge myself between a huge German couple and a thin redheaded woman with a severe frown. There's only a handful of us - most people who come to vacation in the Alps must choose it because they're expert skiers. There's a young girl who can't be more than thirteen, and she looks the most nervous out of all of us. I shoot her a smile, and she looks sheepishly away from me. The instructor looks around, and raises his voice.

"Good morning, everyone! I'm Franz, and this is the beginning ski class. If I counted right, there should be six of you here now, and that's a great number because it's not too big. We'll have plenty of room on the slopes to maneuver and make mistakes! Not that you'll make mistakes - I can sense all of you are pretty gifted."

A nervous half-second of laughter goes around the circle. The little girl shuffles her feet and stares at the snow.

Franz pairs us up, and I end up with the little girl. He marches us off to the ski lift. The two-seaters drift lazily through the white sky, couples and serious-faced single skiers dangling their feet from the seats. The German couple gets on, and me and the little girl slide into one seat. Through her pink jacket, I can see she's trembling.

"I'm scared of heights," I say. "So I don't like stuff like this."

The girl's eyes widen as she looks at me. "Me n-neither."

"Sometimes when it gets bad I focus on the sky. I just stare up at it, and it still feels like I'm on the ground, you know?"

She nods, tentatively, and tilts her head up. The sky is completely white, locked up with snow-filled clouds waiting to drop their icy gift when it gets cold enough. The sun is a pale disc struggling to shine through the thick bank. When the lift jerks into movement and starts to ascend, the little girl grips the bar holding us in tightly in her pink mittens and keeps her eyes riveted to the sky. It seems to help, since she isn't shaking as much. The evergreen trees go from looming towers of pine needles to tiny points beneath our boots. The mountain gets bigger and bigger, the gentle slope of the beginner's course soft and smooth compared to the higher-up, more intense courses. Skiers fly down the mountain slope, making slick turns and sometimes flipping with hawk-like precision and grace.

The lift slows and grinds to a halt at the top of the beginner slope. The little girl gets out and I follow. She grabs her smaller skis and looks up at me.

"I'm Morgan. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm Rose." I smile. "Nice to meet you, too."

Franz claps his hands. "Alright everyone, come over here and we'll go over some basics."

Franz walks us through some really basic forms. He teaches us how to space our feet, how to turn by tilting our toes and heels, and how to propel ourselves with ski sticks. Morgan is getting the hang of it seamlessly, while the German couple is all but flailing. Since Franz is busy trying to keep them from rolling down the slope, I ask Morgan for help. She shows me how to keep the weight in my knees instead of my midriff, and that helps with the balancing problems I'm having.

Just as I'm about to thank her, a wave of nausea rears its ugly head. I barely have time to aim my mouth at the snow before I vomit. The white ground stains yellow with bile and melts. The German couple and the redhead woman wrinkle their nose, and Franz rushes over to me.

"Are you alright, miss? Are you sensitive to elevation changes?"

"I-I'm fine," I pant. "I just need water."

He rummages around in his bag and passes me a bottle. I drink greedily, and thank him.

"Do you need to go to the infirmary?" Franz asks nervously. I shake my head.

"I'm fine. I think it's passing, now. Must've been something I had for breakfast."

I flash a smile at Morgan, who looks concerned. Assured I'm fine, Franz moves on and urges the German couple and the others down the slope. Morgan looks to me.

"You sure you're okay?" She asks, brown eyes wide. My nausea isn't totally gone, but now that I've thrown up I feel better. I nod.

"Really, I'm definitely okay. C'mon, we can't let everyone else get ahead of us!"

We get to the slope and look down it. It's gentle, but still looks intimidating. Morgan's started shaking again, and I nudge her.

"Remember what I said? Just look at the sky, not your feet."

She swallows, sets her quivering lip in a determined grimace, and pushes off. I watch her glide effortlessly down the hill, her gaze riveted up instead of down. When she comes to a stop, she turns and waves one arm at me in a signal of triumph. I give her a thumbs up, and teeter on the edge of the hill. It's way bigger than it looked from the ski lift. I take a deep breath and try looking up instead of at my feet. I push off, and for a moment it feels like I'm flying. The snow cushions my landing, and my knees buckle but don't give way. I coast down the hill and come to a stop at Morgan's side. She smiles and laughs for the first time.

"You did a jump, sort of! That was so cool!"

"Glad you liked it. Totally planned." I puff my chest up, and she laughs harder. Franz claps me on the back.

"Very good, miss. You two are naturals, I must say."

We spend the rest of the afternoon skiing. Morgan tells me about her parents - rich, habitual tourists who usually leave her with the nanny and go exploring in whatever country they've decided to visit. She sounds lonely when she explains it. When I offer to ski with her tomorrow, her face lights up and she agrees. She gives me her cellphone number, and at the end of the day, when I'm trudging into the lodge cold and wet and breathless, the knowledge that I've made a new friend warms me up from the inside out. Morgan's smiles, and her enthusiasm and bravery, helped patch holes in me I didn't know I had.

The hotel room is empty. Grace texted me earlier she was going to be back late - the magazine is doing a midnight shoot out in the woods. Grace complained a lot about wearing next-to-nothing couture clothes while standing ankle-deep in snow, so I ask the maid for more towels and make a hot pot of tea from the coffee set by the TV. I strip my wet clothes off and cuddle under the blankets of my bed. The warm fireplace in the corner blazes bright, and I watch the flames throw shadows on the walls that dance and writhe. I'm so cozy I can barely bring myself to get out of bed.

All my thoughts dance with the fire. I check my phone - Mom and Riley and Dad have left me a bunch of messages, all asking if I'm eating well, if I've seen the Eiffel Tower, and in Riley's case, if I've spotted any hot French girls. I snort and text him back reminding him he has a girlfriend and has had that girlfriend for almost a year now. He responds with a bunch of weird smileys and one big YOLO.

I laugh and scroll through my phone. I accidentally go down too far, and Lee's name rests on the bottom of my screen. The last text I sent him was; "I'm sorry", and he never texted back. I don't know what I was sorry for - sorry for not being enough, sorry for not making my feelings known. If I told him I loved him, clearly and in so many words, would he have still married Kiera?

I shake my head. I scroll through my pictures, and that always makes me feel better. Grandpa's house looms on the screen, impressive and homey as ever. Even if it's being remodeled into Kiera's dad's retirement home business thing, I still have the old house in these pictures. There are more pictures, of cute bakeries I've seen online. Now that I'm a little more than halfway through my business degree at UCLA, I can't help but feel excited. Soon I'll be out and getting the contacts I need to build up a bakery of my own. Pierre's offered to introduce me to the local bakery barons, and I'm eager to get my feet wet and start applying everything I'm studying to real life.

I can put my energy into the bakery. That's where it needs to go. Dating is off-limits for me for a long time.

There's a knock on the door just then, and I hurriedly throw on a robe and answer it. It's the maid with the extra towels, and a small card.

"For you, ma'am."

I thank her and take the towels and shut the door. The card is simple and white, with one pen-inked line in the middle;

'Meet me on the east ballroom balcony. - L'

My heart does a little skipping motion. It can't be. It can't be Lee. The card must've been sent to the wrong room. I throw on a shirt and a pair of jeans and take the elevator down - I have to give this back to the L person who wants someone to meet them there, so they know it was sent to the wrong room.

The hotel is mostly quiet, winding down after the dinner rush as everyone filters back to their room. The east ballroom is a huge, marble-floor, vaulted-ceiling room with billowy curtains and French windows, and one massive balcony that overlooks the mountains. The sun still lingers in this part of the world, even at nine at night - painting pale lavender shadows across the snow and pine trees. The view is breathtaking - the mountains jutting up from the valley and spreading into the horizon, fresh snow capping each of them with a white glaze that reflects the sunset's every color shift.

Someone stands against the wood railing. Someone tall, in a dark sweater and jeans. The skipping motion in my heart instantly becomes a gallop. I look around for any sign of Kiera, but there's no one even near the ballroom except us. He must hear my footsteps, because he turns around. His hair is mussed, the dark circles still under his eyes. When he sees me he gives a faint smile, and it makes the galloping in my heart only speed up.

"I'm sorry," He says, voice hoarse.

"For what?"

"I had to see you, alone." He rubs his forehead. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have sent that to you. You just being with me - she'll see that as a threat. I'm supposed to protect you, but right now I'm doing the opposite."

I wrinkle my eyebrows. "Lee, what the hell are you talking about?"

He shakes his head, and takes a few tentative steps towards me. I shiver, and he quickly takes off his sweater and pulls it over my head. It smells like him - like pine needles and sweat and wood fire smoke. When I pop my head out of the collar, he flinches.

"I have to tell you everything. It's killing me that you don't know - that you think I love her. I don't. God Rose, I don't love her at all. I pity her. I hate her. But love is the farthest thing from my mind."

His words are everything I've ever wanted to hear.

"Y-You proposed to her," I say. "At the Christmas charity ball you - you and her announced it. Your families were there. You agreed to marry her, Lee -"

He steps into me, suddenly, his body heat radiating into me as he cups my cheek.

"Say it again," He murmurs. "My name. I want to hear it in your voice again."

I'm shaking, but I manage to open my mouth.

“Lee.”

He kisses me then, fully and with enormous weight. His lips practically crush mine, his kisses bruising as he trails them across my cheek, up to my ear, and back down to my lips again. His one free hand laces around my back, and I moan and arc into him. I know it’s wrong, I know he has a fiancé and he loves her, but this is everything I’ve wanted for months. A voice in my head chants for me to stop, over and over, but he feels so right in all the wrong ways - his biceps against my back, his thick wrist and long fingers nearly tangled in my hair, his hard need pressing against my stomach through his jeans.

"Found you!"

The shrill voice cuts between us and Lee backs up so quickly you'd think he'd been burnt. He straightens and drops his hand, putting four feet of space between us with one stride. I look up, and Kiera's walking toward us, in wet-looking snowboarding gear and a sandy-haired guy not much older than me on her arm. She unzips her jacket and throws back her head, shaking out her golden hair from under her woolen hat.

"Kiera," Lee pants. "I was just -"

"Paying respects to the locals? Funny, I was doing the same thing." She motions to the guy on her arm. "Lee, this is Felix. He's a friend of my father's."

She turns her foxlike eyes on me, a smile growing on her flushed lips.

"Rose," she says my name with exaggerated slowness, heaviness. "Meet Felix. He's heard a lot about you."

"I have," Felix agrees pleasantly. "Kiera's spared no detail."

He's dressed in cold-weather clothes too, but they look almost too thin, like he packed in a hurry and just threw stuff that would work for another climate into his luggage. He's handsome, in a rugged, weightlifting sort of way. His accent is American. Something in Lee's body language shifts, tenses. He leans forward and balls his fists. Even though Lee's at least two inches taller than Felix, it almost seems like Lee's considering him a threat, or considering him as something...dangerous.

"It's nice to meet you, I think," I say. If Kiera's told him about me, I guess he must think I'm a bitch. But he doesn't ease up on the smile he aims towards me, and it feels genuine, so maybe she didn't tell him the bad bits about me at all. Lee's eyes flash as he looks at me, a message in them I can't quite read. Or is it a warning? I can't tell. Felix moves towards me, as if to shake my hand, but Lee immediately steps between us. Kiera narrows her eyes as the two men look each other up and down.

"Lee, don't be rude. Felix just wants to get to know Rose."

"He can do it over my dead body," Lee growls.

"Hey," I put a hand on Lee's arm. "I'm okay. I can take care of myself."

Lee scoffs, eyes still locked aggressively on Felix. "You have no idea, Rose. Just stay out of this."

"You're overreacting," I whisper. "It's okay. He doesn't seem so bad."

"You don't know anything!" Lee suddenly shouts at me. He rips his eyes from Felix and looks at me, a burning flame in his irises. "You really, really don't know anything. So don't act like you do!"

I start back. It's not the first time Lee's yelled, but it's the first time I've heard him so angry, so afraid. Felix laughs, his easy tone breaking the tension but not erasing it.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry man. I won't shake her hand. That's cool. Correct me if I'm wrong, but this one over here's your fiancé, yeah? Protecting her might be a little more important."

Felix's words hurt, but he's right. Why is Lee so defensive over me, when it's Kiera's he's marrying?

Kiera claps her hands. "Alright! Now that everyone's acquainted, we can get on to having some fun."

"Fun?" I ask. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Oh, you will! You're in the beginner's skiing course, right Rose? Well, Felix just took over as teacher there today!"

"B-But, but what about Franz?"

"He had a...sudden family emergency," Kiera says, smiling all the while.

"Family emergency my ass!" Lee snarls. "You -"

"I what?" Kiera's eyes widen. "I helped my father's friend find a job. Isn't that nice of me?" She turns to me, and smiles broader. "We really should be getting to bed. We've got so much to accomplish tonight."

The way she drags out the word accomplish makes a sick, bubbling heat rise in my stomach. Kiera offers her arm to Lee, who glowers between me and Felix for a moment before taking it, but not before he points menacingly in Felix's face.

"I'm watching you," Lee says, a deadly calm in his voice.

"Sure, buddy," Felix laughs. Kiera leads Lee away. When they're gone, Felix turns to me and winks.

"She's a piece of work, huh?"

"Who? Kiera?"

He nods. "Yeah. Can't stand her. Still, she's pretty. I guess that's why most people put up with her."

My anxiety eases. Lee distrusts Felix, obviously, but anyone who doesn't like Kiera - who knows her true nature and dislikes her for it - can't be all that bad. You have to be smart enough to see her real face and kind enough to be repulsed by it.

"You like it here?" Felix asks.

"So far, yeah." I try a smile. "Obviously, with all these old friends here I'm a little..."

"On edge," He offers.

"Yeah. That. But it's beautiful, and I'm meeting some new people. That's all it takes to make me happy. Oh, and the food. Awesome French food makes anyone happy."

Felix chuckles. "My mom was French. Not much of a cook, though. Burned everything she got her hands on."

Felix and I walk out of the ballroom, and he shrugs.

"So I'll see you tomorrow morning for your lesson. First thing."

"Yup. Got my alarm set and everything."

He starts off, and I go in the opposite direction to the hotel room, my head practically spinning with what just happened. Lee sent me a note, acted so strange, and looked even sadder than ever. I can only pray he's okay. I can only pray he'll feel better after some good sleep - or lack thereof. Kiera's taunting face when she talked about them sleeping together just now still haunts me. I haven't slept with anyone since that Christmas night at the charity ball - how could I? Lee was the only one I'd ever felt attracted enough to, the only one who'd cared enough about me as a person. I couldn't let my guard down like that again with anyone else - not for a long, long time. The emotional hole he left in my heart is gaping and ragged, but the physical one he left pulses and oozes wounded blood on a regular basis. Just seeing him, being close to him in the last few nights, all of it is too much for my body to bear. I remember every touch, every soft whisper, and I crave them all over again. And again.

When I get back to the hotel room, Grace isn't in. She must be running late.

I collapse on the bed, the Lee-smelling sweater loose around my body. I hug it tight, pull it tighter around me, and pretend the smell means he's near. I pretend I can reach over and touch him, his face, his neck, his slender waist twisted with muscle. The smell of him is more than I've had in months, and it's all I can have right now. Forever. I push that thought out and try to stay in the moment - where it's warm and Lee's scent surrounds me, his sweater masquerading as his arms, his weight, his lips. I reach beneath it, beneath my shirt, and idly glance over my collarbone where he liked to kiss, my nipples he liked to bite, my stomach he'd laze his tongue up and down, and finally the warm, wet heat he'd play in - and when he wasn't feeling playful - war in. I arch my back and for a second he's here, making bruises on my thighs and explosions between them.

Chapter Three

In Which Rose Jensen Resists

***

LEE

***

Kiera likes to pretend it’s been a fantastic night.

She gets up very early – morning person. Never liked those. She prances around in the latest lingerie she’s bought. It’s usually something pink and garish, with lace for miles and no shred of intent to hide anything at all. She bares it all. I don’t have the heart to tell her the lingerie I prefer. I don’t have the heart to tell her anything besides ‘don’t you dare hurt Rose’ anymore. And with the wedding looming ever closer, that’s all I feel like saying.

In a few months, I’ll be married.

The joke’s on her, though. I have plans. She isn’t the master tactician she thinks she is – I’ll divorce her after the marriage. Not right away, maybe a few months in so she lowers her guard. She’s making me sign a pre-nup that says I won’t get anything, but that’s fine. I wouldn’t want her daddy’s blood money, anyway. The man is practically mafia, with the bank he makes and the contacts he has.

As I watch her move around the hotel room, humming an annoying tuneless song and making coffee, I feel my blood start to boil, and not in the turned-on way. She brought that scumbag Felix out here just to keep me in check. Rose’s insult – bold-faced and up front – must’ve really scared Kiera more than I thought it did. If Rose’s gotten that bold, there’s no telling what she’ll do. She might try to fight back, take me from Kiera, even if that will only hurt her. And Kiera is now ensuring that it will hurt bad. Terribly. By bringing Felix – who’s probably some punk straight out of jail – Kiera’s reminding me of my duty. My end of the bargain that saved Rose’s family business and her education. The one I stupidly agreed to back when I thought it was all I could do for her. And Farlon had been in on it. I really didn’t have a chance back then. I was naïve. I thought I could handle it – being her ‘fake’ husband, protecting Rose, all of it. And Dad knew that. Dad played me, and to some extent, played Kiera. He cares nothing about me. I was a pawn, and Kiera gave up a very, very handsome chunk of change for that pawn.

I should be flattered, I think bitterly as I watch her pink lingerie flutter in the non-existent breeze. I’ve landed myself a beautiful, rich, cruel, domineering bitch.

But that cruel, domineering bitch has no idea just far she's pushing me.

I can't take it. I know that now. I was stupid for ever thinking I could. But I can't go back now, or she'll hurt Rose. So I'll push through it all, and come out the other side tougher for it. I'll stay with Kiera until I find a way to protect Rose from her, and then I'll bring her sick little kingdom crashing down on her.

Kiera turns, offering me a cup of coffee. The morning sun slants in on our room. She used me until I was dry, riding me like the little circus pony she thinks I am, with me pretending it was Rose all the while. I've been good about not saying her name aloud when I come - part of the skillset I refined in my days around the block. But Kiera knows. She knows everything. And that's why she's so viciously obsessive about the sex - like she's trying to beat the thought of Rose out of me through sheer overuse and stimulation. But it'll never work. Kiera doesn't understand that. I see it in her feline eyes, now looking at me with a veil of feigned innocence, and for a moment I pity her. She has no idea why I will never love her. No - she has no idea what love is to begin with. I was the closest thing she ever came to it, and that's why she's hanging on by the skin of her long, manicured nails. She'll keep clutching until I'm dead. I can see it - her determination to find a deeper love matches my desire for the deeper love I found in Rose.

It's a struggle. A battle.

A crusade, two religions fighting each other with equally fervent force, trying to convince each other their way of life and their very souls are wrong. She is the blade carving her way to find a greater love, and I am the unwavering shield protecting the one I love.

My pity wins, in this moment. I take the coffee cup and sip slowly, staring at her deliberately over the lip of the cup. I make my gaze as intense as I can. Her face lights up with joy for a scarce moment as she mistakes my resolve for something sexual, but when I don't let it up she realizes exactly what is. Her face falls. It's nothing sexual and it never will be. We are fighting. Rose is, slowly, learning to fight. And I'm on the front lines continually. She'll join me someday.

And until that day, I make my gaze say, I will remain true.

The disappointment in her eyes lasts only one second before denial clouds it over and reverts her expression back to one of playful ignorance. She doesn't want to see that. She wants to keep hoping I'll come back, but I never will. She dances away and grabs her own cup of coffee from the table before settling on the foot of my bed and sipping coyly.

"It was never a game to you," I say slowly. "Was it? That whole spiel you gave me about being bored, about using me and Rose as distractions from your boredom - that was a lie."

"Hmm?" Kiera tilts her head. She's pretending again. I sigh.

"You're good at pretending, Kiera. But I can see the real you, now. It's not too late to stop this. I won't hate you completely. We can still be friends, but only if you cut it out right now."

Kiera mulls over this, staring into her coffee and going still. Then, all at once, she starts swinging her legs and laughs, shaking her head.

"No, no, no. It's very much too late."

I open my mouth to say something, but she snaps her head to me and smiles a feral smile.

"Don't test me, Lee Montenegro. I won't hesitate to do anything. I'll punish you by punishing her, and I won't blink an eye as I do it. Don't make me show you blood to prove that to you."

I put my coffee down and shake my head. Kiera finishes hers and goes into the bathroom to take a shower. The coffee slowly goes cold, as does the last shred of sympathy I had for Kiera.

I crystallize the soft part, tell it never pity her again. I freeze-dry it with my long-burning thirst for revenge, and Rose's freedom.

Two can play this reluctant, barbed game, Kiera.

Two can shed blood.

***

ROSE

***

In the morning, I wake up with a massive headache. But for a few moments, as I'm coming to terms with my groggy surroundings, I can pretend Lee will be there when I open my eyes. His smell still lingers, and I realize I fell asleep in his sweater. I have to return it.

Grace is in the bed over, sleeping soundly. She looks exhausted, and fancy couture dresses are strewn about the room. She must've come in late and looked for something before giving up and collapsing on the bed. The tea I'd made for her beforehand is gone, empty down to the last dregs. She noticed! I feel a warm ball of friendship-fuzz bloom in my stomach. She's really observant, and always careful to appreciate the things I say and do for her. She's one of the best friends I've ever had.

I tiptoe over to her bedside and lie in the empty space in front of her. She sleeps on her stomach, her face mashed into the pillow. Even with smeared, half-taken-off makeup and slightly drooling, she looks incredibly beautiful. I poke at her cheek fat - what little there is, and she lazily opens her eyes.

"Hey," She murmurs.

"Hi," I say. "Have I told you you're the best friend I've ever had?"

"More like the only friend," She grumbles, and stuffs her face in the pillow further. I laugh, and she rolls over and chuckles. "Just kidding. I know nerds have friends."

"Not many," I correct, and wrap my arms around my knees and pull my legs up to my chest. "I was so busy with advanced classes and math league I barely had time to study or sleep, let alone go out and party."

"Nerrrrd," Grace drags out the word. "A cute nerd, but you're still a huge nerd."

"I'm getting better, right?" I put on my best pleading voice, and she smiles.

"Duh. All due to my stellar influence, of course."

I laugh and stand, getting dressed quickly.

"Do you have that ski class again this morning?" Grace asks.

"Yup. I should probably shower, but if I don't leave now I'll be late."

"You'll stink." Grace wrinkles her nose. "Of snow and cute French boys."

"Oh, our old instructor got fired. Kiera's dad's friend is the new one."

Grace raises an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Really."

Grace sits up and folds her arms over her chest. "I don't like the sound of that."

"He seems nice enough." I shrug. "Are you gonna talk to Jen anytime soon?"

"Why?"

I hold up my phone so she can see Jen's texts. "She keeps bugging me to tell you to eat and stuff. I think she's really worried. So just, try to talk to her soon, if you can."

"What are you, our mediator?" Grace scoffs. I stare at her pointedly, and she sighs. "Fine, fine! You're our mediator. I'll do as you command."

"Do it for yourself and for her, not me," I insist.

Grace makes a little salute, and I zip my jacket up and salute back. I leave, taking the elevator. The giant fires in the lobby hearths are just being stoked by the staff, so that's how I know just how early it is. Half-awake people stumble around looking for coffee and pulling on scarves and hats to face the coldness of the day. I grab a doughnut from the free breakfast counter and head outside. The cold nips at my cheeks and instantly makes my nose run, but I pull my scarf higher and rush to the Piroux lodge. The sun is barely rising over the east mountains, and unlike the last few days the sky is a flawless blue expanse with not a cloud obscuring the incredible mountain view. The lifts are working, steadily taking the earliest and most hardcore skiers up the mountain and to the more difficult runs. The beginner group is once again in front of the lodge. Today the fat German couple waves at me, and the redheaded woman even nods at me in greeting. Morgan runs up to me, a smile bright on her face.

"Hey! You're late!"

"Sorry, sorry!" I slog through the snow and shoot an apologetic look at Felix. He's decked out in more appropriate snow weather gear, now - a big puffy jacket and a warm-looking beanie hat. He shrugs in my direction.

"If you're late again, I'll fine you. We can't keep all these fine, eager learners waiting now, can we?"

He's so deadpan I don't know whether he's serious or not, and apparently neither does the circle. They all go quiet, Morgan nervously shifting from foot to foot, as if experiencing secondhand embarrassment for me. But Felix's mouth pulls into a tiny smirk, and he snickers.

"Just kidding. Let's get going."

The blanket of silence cracks and dissipates, and Morgan eagerly skips alongside me as we line up for the ski lift. It slows to a stop, and this time Morgan instantly stares upwards, determined not to look down and scare herself. I nudge her proudly.

"Hey! Look at you! You're not scared at all, anymore!"

"I'm still scared!" She protests, accidentally glancing down. She instantly freezes, and I reach out a mittened hand and tilt her chin up again.

"There you go."

"Th-Thanks," she stutters. "That's a lot better."

"You'll get there someday," I say. "But for now, it's okay to just look at the sky. Sometimes I even do it when I'm not scared."

"Really?"

"Yeah," I glance up at the perfect porcelain blue. "When life gets too overwhelming, or scary, I just look at the clouds and stuff. It makes me feel a lot smaller, and then my problems get really small, you know?"

She nods, vigorously. The lift screeches to a halt suddenly, and Morgan clutches at my arm.

"W-What's going on?"

I look to the station - we're still a good half-mile away. "I'm not sure. Hold on."

I scan around at the other lifts. Felix is just below us, and he waves and cups his hands around his mouth, shouting.

"Fixing a gear!"

I nod, and turn back to Morgan. "It's okay. They just found something they have to fix."

"Are we gonna fall?" She whispers, her grip on my arm like a vice. I pat her hand.

"Don't be silly. See those cables?" I point. "Those are steel wire, hundreds and hundreds of steel wires woven together in one big cable. Those won't snap unless a really huge tornado comes through. Do you see any really huge tornados?"

She looks around at the horizon, and then shakes her head.

"So, we're safe!" I conclude. She still shakes and shivers uncontrollably, so I offer my hand. "Here. You can hold my hand if it makes you feel better."

Morgan nods and puts her hand in mine. Her mittens are still pink, and the heat from her palm radiates into mine. It hits me then now young she is, and how scared she really must be. How brave. Her parents leave her alone with the nanny all the time, in foreign countries. To face a strange place with someone you don't know looking after you - that takes a lot of guts and a refined ability to trust. She's such a brave, amazing little girl, and I feel humbled just sitting by her. She's braver than I can ever dream of being.

After a few harrowing minutes, the lift begins to move slowly. Morgan exhales, relieved, and I mimic her. She frowns at me and playfully hits my shoulder. I pretend it hurt, bad, and she laughs. When we're on solid snow again, I feel my anxiety drain away and be replaced by something more sinister, and real. The nausea in my stomach I felt yesterday hits me with full force, and I vomit nearly on my own shoes. Morgan looks concerned again, and Felix lazily calls over to me.

"You alright, kid?"

"Kid?" I immediately grow flustered. I wipe my mouth and get ready to hurl an insult at him just as my stomach decides to hurl again. I vomit a little more, and Morgan pats my back as if trying to comfort me. Felix rolls his eyes and jogs over.

"Look, if you're not well enough to be out here -"

"I'm fine!" I protest. "Just give me a second. Do you have any water?"

He opens his arms and turns in a circle. "Uh, hello? We are surrounded by water."

"Ew," Morgan wrinkles her nose. "My mom said to never ever eat snow."

"But this is great snow," Felix sighs. "It's the French Alps! You won't get it much fresher than this."

I roll my eyes and take a handful of snow and mash it into my mouth. I get brain freeze, but my nausea recedes as the cool water makes its way down my throat, and the nasty taste gets washed away. Morgan watches me in half-horror. I wave Felix away, and he returns to teaching the redhead woman how to come to a quick stop. He might look young, but he clearly knows how to ski, and has been doing it for years - his finesse putting on the skis and handling them is in the same level of grace of the pros I saw in the lodge. Morgan pulls on my jacket.

"Isn't it nasty tasting?" She asks. I shake my head.

"Nah, but it'll give you a nasty brain freeze. It actually kind of tastes nice."

Morgan frowns, staring at the snow at her feet. She grasps a bunch and stuffs it in her mouth quickly, like she's afraid she'll chicken out. She squints and massages her forehead, wincing. When she swallows, I nudge her.

"Told you!"

She sticks her tongue out at me, but smiles. "It's really not that bad!"

"Told you times two."

She laughs, and shuffles over to Felix. He instructs us that today we're going to go down a slightly higher hill than the one yesterday. We watch the redhead lady go down first, and then the German couple, who somehow miraculously manage not to fall over and roll the rest of the way down, today. This time, Morgan seems a lot more scared of the hill. I assure her I'll go first, even though when I get to the edge of it I immediately regret that promise. The slope is a lot sharper than it looked. I take a huge breath, and Felix pats my back, nearly sending me over the edge. I gasp and totter, and when I'm steady again I whirl to face him, all fangs and fire.

"Excuse me! I was taking my time!"

"Sorry, sorry, you just looked like you needed some moral support," He drones.

"I don't need any of your -" As I wave my arm to point at him, I tip myself over and go flying down the hill. My stomach falls up and my breath punches out of my lungs as I scream, the speed of the hill correlated to the sharp incline. I'm going so fast the trees blur, and the end of the slope is rapidly approaching. I manage to calm down enough to remember how to slow down in case of a high speed, and position my feet. I steadily slow, and nearly face plant into the snow with relief as I come to a stop by the German couple, who shout congratulations in guttural German and thump me on the back.

Morgan is next, and I'm relieved to see Felix treats her with much more care. She's as graceful coming down as ever, and we all cheer at the end line for her. She smiles, cheeks flushed bright with the cold weather and a reddish glow of accomplishment. Felix follows her, and comes to a stop in front of us.

"Good work, guys. Thanks for listening so well."

"You best instructor, Felax!" The German man bellows. "Danke!"

"I definitely notice an improvement in my own skills," The redhead woman says softly. Morgan nods in agreement.

"It's only because you guys are so good." His voice is incredibly monotone. It's impossible to tell if he's saying things ironically or sarcastically or not! It infuriates me just a little more than it disturbs me. Who knows what he's thinking.

Felix gives us the rest of the day to ski the beginner slopes, but warns us off the Alligator - the steepest and sharpest incline on the beginner route. Morgan and I mess around, she showing me tricks she's picked up and me showing her how to build the perfect snowman. We're halfway through the middle portion of his body when Morgan's face grows serious.

"Are you sick, Rose?"

I freeze balling up another wad of snow, and laugh. "Why would you think that?"

"You're throwing up a lot."

I dwell on it for a moment - it's probably stress. With everything going on, it's normal to be anxious to the point of gastrointestinal disturbance. Seeing Lee and Kiera daily puts me on edge like nothing else can. I can't tell Morgan that, though. It'd worry her, and she wouldn't really understand. Or would she? She's a smart little girl. But she doesn't need to be involved with my life.

As if she can tell what's running through my head, she frowns.

"I told you my problems kind of! You should tell me yours. That way it's fair."

My eyes widen, but I quickly smile. "Of course. Sorry. It's just hard to talk about, you know?"

Morgan nods, and packs more snow on the belly of the snowman. She waits, patiently looking at me until I feel the words starting to fall out all on their own.

"There's a guy I used to like. He's here, with the girl he likes now."

Morgan's mouth makes a small 'o' shape. "That sounds really hard."

"It is, most of the time," I admit. "Seeing him is really hard."

"So that's why you throw up," She chirps. "Because you're lovesick!"

I nearly choke, but manage to turn it into a laugh. "Yeah, sure. But saying 'lovesick' makes me sound kind of pathetic, don't you think?"

"Not at all! It just means you really like someone."

I'm speechless at how astute she sounds. Her words are the wise words of someone much older, someone with a lot of experience, even though it's impossible for her to have much. Or maybe that isn't true at all. Anybody, of any age, can experience loss. There's no age limit for loss. It happens to all of us, at any time, and all we can do is try to make it hurt less.

Just as I'm recovering from her insight, another shock arrives - this time in the form of a harried-looking, panicking Lee as he crashes his snowboard right into our snowman. Morgan shrieks, and I yell, and Lee comes up with a mouthful of snow, snowflakes lacing his hair and his skin wet with them. He flushes, and struggles to get out of the snow pile.

"You killed him! You killed Mr. Icy!" Morgan shouts at him.

"I'm sorry!" Lee flails. I sigh and look at Morgan.

"C'mon, let's help the murderer out of the snow."

Morgan huffs, but she takes his arm and I take the other, and we pull as he pushes. He bursts free of the massacred innards of Mr. Icy and stands, brushing himself off quickly.

"Christ, I'm so sorry, I was just -"

"Not looking where you were going," I say. "Who's going to inform Mr. Icy's family of his untimely demise?"

"He has a family?" Morgan's eyes well up with tears. I pat her hand sympathetically.

"We still have to make them. I think the murderer's jail time can be replaced with community service, don't you think?"

"I deserve jail," Lee says solemnly. "For taking the life of such an upstanding, cool guy."

I shoot him a smirk for the pun, and he makes a tiny smirk back, but rapidly becomes serious again when Morgan stamps her feet.

"C'mon then, murderer! You help with the rolling, too!"

Lee and Morgan and I work side-by-side, Lee obediently following Morgan's every incensed order with surprising gentleness. When Morgan runs off to find branches for the arms of the two complete snowmen - one female and one a baby - I turn to Lee.

"I had no idea you were good with kids."

"I had no idea you were such a harsh judge of crimes," He sighs, and holds up his red, raw hands. "My hands are frostbitten. I’ll never paint another picture again."

"Stop being a baby," I laugh. "They're still attached to you, so you're fine."

He rubs them together. Before I know what I’m doing, I grab his hands and rub them in my own mittens.

“No mittens?” I frown. “Why’d you come out here without protecting your hands?”

He’s quiet, and it’s only when our eyes meet do I realize what I’m doing. I pull away instantly, my hands warming up from where they touched his.

“Sorry. Just, you know. Don’t be an idiot. Get some proper cold weather gear before you skate.”

“Is that worry I hear in your voice?” He asks softly.

“I always worry.”

“Don’t. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah? Your eye bags say otherwise.”

“I get them from worrying about you,” He says. “Can’t blame me.”

“Don’t worry about me, either. I’m more than capable.”

Lee glares at a far-off figure. I follow his gaze with my own and find him glaring at Felix.

“You really don’t like him, huh?” I ask. Lee’s about to answer when Morgan runs in-between us, hitting Lee’s knees to get his attention.

“Hey! Lift me up so I can put the sticks where their nose should be!”

Lee chuckles, and lifts her by the waist. Morgan plants two stubby sticks into the snowman faces, and when he puts her down she’s practically glowing with pride.

“You did great,” I say. “They look like real people.”

Morgan’s quiet, staring at the snowmen before pointing at Lee and announcing; “This guy killed your dad and husband. He’s the bad guy.”

Lee sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “I’d beg forgiveness, but I don’t think they understand any language other than below freezing.”

“They can too, idiot! They can understand English and French and –”

“Morgan!”

Morgan starts at the authoritative voice ringing out over the snowfield. We all turn to see a man and woman striding towards us. The man’s hair is silver-streaked, and the lines in his face are deep, with the kind of strict businessy expression old rich guys seem to cultivate. The woman isn’t any better off, but she’s considerably younger, with platinum blonde hair and a perfectly symmetrical face with bright green eyes and a proud chin. Morgan’s chin.

“You must be Morgan’s parents,” I say. They look irritated, but I don’t want them to take it out on her, so I have to diffuse the obvious tension. I extend my hand for them to shake. “I’m Rose Jensen, in Morgan’s skiing class. She’s very talented –”

“What are you doing out here without Cosette?” The man barks at Morgan, who flinches. He grabs her arm and shakes her, but before I can even react, Lee steps in between them.

“With all due respect, sir, there’ll be no need for that kind of physical interaction. I’m sure we can all speak calmly without resorting to that.”

“Who are you?” The man snaps. The woman shoots a dirty glare at me, but I bite my lip and let Lee do the talking, for now. Morgan looks on the verge of tears. If the man grabs Morgan like that again, I’ll –

“I’m Lee Montenegro, sir. A friend of Rose’s. We were just making snowmen, and Morgan’s been very well looked after.”

“You’re strangers!” The woman shrieks. “Where is Cosette, Morgan? How did you get out of the room without her?”

“I didn’t!” Morgan sniffs. “You signed me up for the classes! She couldn’t come because you didn’t pay for her! I asked her to, but she said she didn’t want to spend her money on something ‘that dumb’! But then I met Rose,” Morgan motions to me. “And she’s really nice and she makes sure I don’t fall and hurt myself and stuff, just like Cosette would. So don’t be mean to her!”

“You.” The woman points at her. “Are in big trouble, young lady. You made us all worry. And you –” She points at Lee and I. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I don’t trust you with my child. So please don’t act like I do. You have no business playing with her when I don’t know you.”

“Those are all perfectly understandable fears, ma’am –” Lee starts.

“Let’s go!” The man barks. “I’m going to have a word with Cosette, and then someone needs to be put in time out.”

“No!” Morgan protests. “I didn’t do anything, Papa!”

“Come along.”

Morgan shoots me an apologetic look. Lee musters a smile.

“It’s okay. We’ll see you around. And the Icy family will still be here in the morning, waiting for you, so you can come see them whenever.”

Morgan runs up and hugs me, abruptly, her mother and father calling sternly for her to stop and follow them. She runs after them, little boots kicking up snow. We watch them go, and Lee sighs.

“Oops.”

“Oops indeed,” I say. “It must be tough, being a parent.”

“I can’t imagine it,” he says. “Especially when I had shitty role models. Well, one shitty role model. I can’t remember what Mom was like, except that she made tacos way too much and drove like a maniac.”

I feel myself smiling, even though it’s depressing a subject matter. The way he talks about his mother is so fond in itself I can’t help but absorb a bit of that happiness.

“You must’ve loved her a lot,” I try. Lee nods, eyes following Morgan and her parents mistily.

“Yeah. She was one hell of a cool woman while she was alive.”

Felix walks up then, and Lee narrows his eyes at him. Felix just smiles genially.

“You two look like you’re having fun.” He gestures to the snowmen. “Are we gonna burn the effigies later, or what?”

“Don’t you dare,” Lee says. “They’re really important to a young girl. Leave them be.”

“Fine, fine, jeez.” Felix puts his hands up. “Don’t gotta be all harsh with me.”

“I know what you’re up to. So cut out the shit act of being harmless.” Lee grabs my hand, and pulls me away. I try to wave goodbye to Felix, but Lee snarls. “Don’t bother. The guy’s evil.”

“What? Since when do you call people evil?”

“Since Kiera hired someone just out of jail to stalk you.”

“What?” I pull from his grasp. “Lee, what are you talking about?”

“That guy is bad news. Kiera’s dad got a lot of bad people out of jail, and she wants to keep us apart. She keeps saying – she keeps saying she’ll sic him on you if I don’t listen to her.”

My blood runs cold, colder than the mountain wind that toys with my hair.

“You can’t be serious,” I say.

“You know how serious she is about this!” Lee exclaims. “Please, Rose, I know it sounds extreme, and, okay, a little crazy, but Kiera will stop at nothing to keep us apart. Nothing.”

“Then why are you with her? I thought – I thought you –”

“You thought wrong.” Lee steps into me, tilting my head up as if to kiss me. His hands are cold, but beneath the chilly skin I can feel the warm flow of his blood. My body tingles, an electric wire being dragged across my every nerve.

“Everything you think is wrong,” He says. “Nothing is how it should be. You can feel it too, right? You should be with me. We should be together, somewhere not here. We made a mistake, but it’s not too late to fix it.”

“Lee, I –”

“Lee!” Felix’s voice rings out. He holds up his cellphone as he walks towards us. “Kiera wants you. She’s in the dining room.”

“Tell her I’m busy,” Lee snaps, parting from me. I ache at the loss of warmth.

“She says it’s important. Don’t worry.” Felix steps up and puts his arm around my shoulder. “I’ll escort Rose back to her room.”

Lee nearly lunges at us, but he pulls back at the last second and grits his teeth.

“Get your hands off her.”

“I will. If you go see Kiera. She wants you.”

Felix’s voice changes with that one sentence. Something about it is drier than his usual deadpan voice, and much, much colder than the mountain air can strive to be. Something unspoken passes between Lee and Felix, and Lee finally looks at me with an injured, if serious, look.

“Don’t trust him. Stay safe.”

I’m too shocked, and Lee’s too fast walking away for me to say anything. I shrug Felix’s arm off me, and glower.

“Don’t touch me.”

“As you wish,” he chuckles. “Not that I take orders from you, or anything.”

“You take orders from her. Kiera.”

He shrugs. “Not really. She asks me to do stuff but I only do it if I want to. She’s a bitch. I won’t give her the satisfaction of acting like her whipped little dog. Lee on the other hand -” Felix sucks in a breath. “He’s got the masochistic slave thing down pat. You two slept together, right? You ever order him to do something? Slap him around a bit? I bet he’d like it. He’s the type of guy who would.”

“Be quiet,” I hiss, a flush rising on my cheeks. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Neither do you,” he says lightly. “Lee was your first, right? So you’ve had no other guys? Pity. You could do well for yourself, you know. Get some idiot guy wrapped around your finger, or maybe five. You might know a lot, but I know someone like me when I see them. You and I – we got a dark side that doesn’t come out often, but when it does, when we’re cornered and got nowhere else to go…”

He trails off and whistles.

I turn on my heel, not wanting to hear anymore, and stride away from him as fast as I can. Dark side? Me? No way. I barely mustered up the courage to tell Kiera she was ugly in the restaurant, and I couldn’t do anything when Morgan’s parents accosted her. If I’ve got a dark side, it’s the helpless kind. Or is it? Have I just not been pushed into a corner far enough? Is what Lee says true? Can we really fight back against someone like Kiera – with money and charm and connections to spare? Did she really hire Felix to follow me? And was Felix really as dangerous as Lee made him out to be? He seemed strange, but harmless enough. He taught ski lessons well, he interacted with people like a normal person. He didn’t seem too messed up, at least not messed up enough to hurt anyone.

I shake my head and pray Lee is alright. All I can do is keep communicating with him, keep him from descending too deep into whatever shady pit of revenge he’s set on. Kiera might be bad, and need to be stopped, but going down to her level isn’t any better – people would get hurt that way.

I see Morgan’s parents in the lobby, but they turn their noses up and walk past me without a second glance. I hope she’s alright. She’s the sweetest little girl I’ve ever met, and I’d hate to see her get in trouble with her jerky parents because of me.

I suddenly realize I’m ravenous. Jacques’ serves lunch, and I surprise myself by eating two plates of fettuccine, and an entire basket of garlic bread all by myself. I haven’t eaten this much since I was in high school, and growing nearly an inch a month. It must be all the skiing and exercise, and I’m probably burning more calories on average to keep my own body at regular temperatures. Even the waiter looks surprised. I leave a good tip (Riley’s a waiter at his part time job, and he always complains about the importance of tipping), and head into the lobby. The massive fireplace holds a warm blaze, couches strategically placed in a semi-circle around it. I sink into the soft cushions, and, exhausted by skiing and all the emotional drama, I fall easily into a gentle sleep.

Chapter Four

In Which Rose Jensen Is Being Followed

When I wake, the light outside the massive lodge windows is dimming slightly. Sunset is still far off, but I look at my phone and start in my seat – I slept nearly seven hours! I must’ve been more tired than I thought. Grace has sent me a dozen texts, all worried and asking where I am. I respond quickly, and she says she’s got a surprise for me. She says to bring my swimsuit, and meet her on the fourth floor. Swimsuit? Since when did this place have a pool? And even if they do, there’s no way this California girl is swimming in below-freezing water.

She says to bring my swimsuit, and meet her on the fourth floor. Swimsuit? Since when did this place have a pool? And even if they do, there’s no way this California girl is swimming in below-freezing water. I put my one-piece on under my silk underwear and jeans. I pull on Lee's sweater, gingerly, not wanting to ruin it, even though I've ruined it already. I can't put it on without thinking about him, and it only leads to a hot pooling between my thighs and frustration in my heart.

I sigh, grab a couple of towels just in case, and lock the room behind me. To my dismay, an OUT OF ORDER sign is hung over the elevator. The fourth floor is a bit of a walk, and my legs start cramping after the third flight of stairs. The stairwell is eerily quiet.

Just then, I hear a soft footstep not my own. I freeze up and strain to listen for another, but it never comes. I look up and down the stairwell, but there's no one I can see. I shrug and keep walking. The footsteps are louder this time, and I whirl around immediately. I still can't see anyone.

"Hello?" I call out. My palms are starting to sweat, and a tiny kernel of fear settles in my throat, but I push it out and keep walking.

The footsteps start running.

I instantly burst into a sprint, taking the stairs two at a time until I shove through the fourth floor door. I don't even bother looking behind me as I run down the hall and turn the corner, frantically looking for someone, anyone, so that I can feel less alone and terrified. If there's someone after me -

"Rose!" Grace's voice floats down the hall. Relief washes over me as I see her waving at the end of it, and I run towards her.

"Are you okay?" She asks. I pant, trying to catch my breath. When I can talk again, I grab her arm.

"Someone was...running behind me in the stairwell!"

Grace's eyebrows furrow. "Are you serious?"

"I-" I look behind me. There's no one there. "I heard them! Someone was running after me."

Grace holds my hand and leads me around the bend in the hall. "C'mon. This way."

She pulls me down more halls, and finally we reach a fire escape leading to the roof. These stairs are tiny and gray, the chilly dusk air making me shiver instantly. That's when I see it - on the roof is a massive hot tub, bubbling and steaming and looking more inviting than anything I've seen in my life. Grace steers me towards it.

"You stay here and get in the tub. I'll go see if I can find one of the staff and tell them what happened, or better yet, the creep who was following you. There's only one way up here, the door, so you'll definitely be safe."

I murmur a thanks, and watch her go nervously. I skim my hands over the hot water. It soothes the tension in my hand almost instantly. I look around to make sure what Grace said was true - sure enough, the roof is five stories up and the only way here is through the door I have a clear view of. There's a platter of cheeses and crackers balanced near the hot tub that I hadn't seen before, and though it's silly, I feel better knowing a small sharp knife is near if I need it.

Why would someone chase me, try to scare me like that? Kiera? No, the footsteps had been too heavy to be a woman.

I shake my head and undress. The hot tub water is searing, but combined with the cold temperature it feels like slipping into heaven. The contrast warms my cheeks and eases my aching muscles. I make sure I position myself in the hot tub so I can always see the door, and cut myself some cheese and crackers. I nibble, then chew, suddenly realizing how ravenous I am. I poke at my belly - I've been eating way too much, and in the swimsuit it definitely shows. I've put on weight.

By the time Grace gets back, I've eaten nearly everything on the plate. I shoot her a sheepish smile.

"Sorry."

She glances at the plate and waves it off. "It's fine. I talked to the maid, and she said she'd send security to check out the stairwell. I didn't see anyone in there, but maybe they will."

"Thanks so much, Grace."

She undresses and reveals her tiny yellow bikini before sliding into the hot tub. She lets out a content sigh as the hot water bubbles around her.

"Work's been tough, huh?" I ask. She nods and massages her neck.

"Ferdinand's been a slave-driver lately. He's really eager to see you, you know."

I point at my belly. "I bet he'll be less happy to see me like this."

"Like what?" Grace frowns. I stand in the water and show her.

"See? I've gotten fatter. My arms are wider, too."

She inspects me with scrutiny, narrowing her eyes, and finally she leans back.

"Huh. You're right. I almost couldn't tell. It's not much. You could probably lose it in a month or two."

"Ugh, who has that kind of time?" I roll my eyes. "I have a degree to earn and a school to graduate and a famous bakery to open."

Grace laughs. "Speaking of bakeries, there's some really cute ones in the village. Ferdinand's shoot is there tomorrow night. You should come along!"

I could use a break from seeing Lee and Kiera, and the constant pressure that whole complicated web is putting on me. I smile.

"Sounds great."

Grace leans her head back, and lets out a breath. "Some guy told me about this place. He must work here, or something. I asked him if there was an extra charge for using it, but he said no. Kinda odd."

"A guy? What guy?"

"Blonde, beefy, spikes his hair up," Grace says.

"That sounds like Felix."

"Felix?"

"The beginner's course ski instructor. He's new. Apparently he's a friend of Kiera's dad's."

This makes Grace narrow her eyes to tiny slits. "Is that so?"

There's a long silence, and finally Grace looks away from me, to the low-dipping, pale sun on the horizon.

"I'm sorry about all the stress with Lee," She says. "I didn't know he'd be here, otherwise I wouldn't have invited you."

"It's okay, really. Not your fault."

"I feel like it is," She sighs. "He likes you a lot. You like him a lot. Now that he's engaged to that bitch, that only shows more."

I feel my face heat, but it has nothing to do with the temperature of the hot tub.

"He might like me, but he's got a duty to Kiera," I say slowly.

"Why? Just because he agreed to marry her?" Grace scoffs.

"He also has a history with her. And he needs to see it through, or work it out. He just needs to figure it out," I say. "Whatever's between them is between them."

"Hate to break it to you, but her and Lee have kind of involved you. Or she has, but Lee's just as guilty. He shouldn't have let her get to you in the first place."

"It's no one's fault, Grace."

"How can you say that? After how much you've been through?"

"He had his reasons for choosing her," I say.

"Yeah, and his reason is he's a fucking idiot." Grace snarls.

"But he's your fucking idiot."

"And yours," She corrects. I shake my head and smile.

"Not anymore."

There's another poignant pause. The sun is even lower now, and a raven flies from a distant pine tree, soaring over the sky.

"I worry about you, sometimes. Be careful," Grace says.

"I will."

She turns her soulful eyes to me, a soft warmth in them. "Promise?"

I squeeze her hand under the water.

"Promise."

***

LEE

***

I haven't told anyone.

Kiera knows, of course. Maybe that prick Felix knows because she told him, and Farlon definitely knows. Kiera's dad probably doesn't. Two people in the world know for sure and one might know.

They know why I agreed to marry Kiera.

They know how much money came of it for me, but not really for me. Most of it went to Rose's school grant. The other half went to Farlon to pay off his stupid gambling debts so the loan sharks wouldn't kill him. Kiera tied the package up in a neat bow by buying Rose's grandpa's house.

Four people in the world know I agreed to be Kiera's finance for money. Myself included. I have to live with that knowledge every day, and the burning regret has left its mark. The regret has shown me how stupid I was, thinking I could solve everything and protect Rose just by agreeing to marry Kiera. I only dove further into her convoluted web of lies and secrecy. I only gave her more power to hurt Rose, not less.

Grandfather would think I'm a moron. He was the father to me and Grace that Farlon never was. He was the one who showed us how to ride the purebred show horses our family farm was breeding - Farlon never stepped foot in the ring, let alone the stable. Grandfather showed us how to care for horses, how to treat them well, and in turn, how to be truly kind to living things. Judging by the way Rose's eyes grow hurt when she sees me, I probably didn't learn that last lesson so well.

Grandfather would call me an idiot for what I've done. I took the coward's way out. But how could I fight against someone as powerful as Kiera? Her influence in the upper echelons guarantees she can get anything done, at any time, for any price. And what she wants is me. She's the definition of the ex-girlfriend from hell, and pretty soon she'll be the wife from hell.

Grace doesn't know why I married Kiera, and though it may make her hate me, I'm not going to tell her if I can help it. The less she knows, the better. Kiera is already targeting Rose - I can't afford for her to target Grace, too. I know Grace would be able to take care of herself, but it's more a matter of principle. Grace isn't the type to even let me protect her, less so now that she hates me for, in her eyes, ditching Rose. And if Grace ever knew, if I ever told her, she'd try to help me fight Kiera. And that would only make Kiera target her. I have no choice but to fight this on my own.

I sigh and stretch my arms. They're sore from skiing. It's been so long since I've swam - part of Kiera's agreement was I stop going to UCLA, so I pulled out. I miss the water. Out here it's all snow and trees, landlocked with no sign of the ocean on the horizon. The lobby is bustling with last-minute skiers heading out to the powder. I see Felix leading another group of beginners and I glare at him as he walks past. He might fool everyone else, but I know he's no good. He flashes me a smile and waves.

"Hey, Lee!"

His class is looking my way, but I won't let that persuade me into pretending to be his friend. I get up from the lobby couch and walk out of the entrance. The parking lot is laden with a thin layer of crisp, fresh new snow on all the cars.

And that's when I see it.

At first I think I made it up in my head, but then it comes around again - a black SUV, with a very familiar license plate.

Farlon's car.

I blink, rub my eyes, but it's still there, driving around the lot before pulling into a spot next to a red Camaro. Half of me wants to make sure it's him, the other half yells at me to stop caring. So what if he's here? He's not my father anymore - he's just a guy who used me to clear off his debts and save his own skin.

I watch the SUV for a moment longer. Farlon gets out. He looks old as ever - hair graying even more and his face lined with sour, repressed bitterness. We lock eyes from across the parking lot, but I don't bother giving him the pleasure of a staring contest. He's not worth my time. I let him know that by scoffing and turning back into the lodge.

Just as I head back to the room, I feel a vice grip on my arm. I turn to see Grace, frowning and glaring, with her hand on my arm.

"He's here," she says.

"I know. I just saw him. But how do you -"

"He texted me." She holds up her phone. "Why would he even be here?"

"I don't know," I say, relishing the first real conversation we've shared in a while. The one at dinner with Rose didn't count - she was just putting on a pleasant show for Rose's sake. But now she's showing her real self to me, the self that hates my guts but tolerates me because I'm still family.

"This stinks of some kind of plan," She growls. "He never goes anywhere without an intent to mess things up."

I bite my tongue. Grace is sharp. Kiera and Farlon were the masterminds behind the marrying thing. They coordinated everything. If they are working together now, what could they possibly want?

"I'll ask Kiera," I murmur.

"What?" Grace snaps. "Ask her about what? Why Farlon's here? Why would she know? She doesn’t even know him all that well."

Shit. I shrug and try to play it cool.

"It's fine, don't worry about it."

"It's not fine, Lee! You know something and you aren't telling me! I'm part of this family too!"

"I know you are, Grace, but I promise there's nothing -"

"Goddamnit, Lee!" She stamps her foot. "You're my brother! You're my brother and I care about you! If Farlon's doing something -"

"Just stay out of it," I say softly. "Please."

"I can't! You have to tell me -"

"I don't have to tell you every little thing that's going on in my life, Grace, and you don't have to pretend to care. We aren't twelve anymore."

Her face goes from furious to distraught in less than a second. She looks like I've hit her, hard, her breathing shallow and her eyes more wounded than I've ever seen them. I've done something wrong. I've hurt her, but not as much as Kiera could hurt her. I've hurt her, and now she'll pull away from me. Pull away from Kiera ever getting the chance to hurt her in real, terrible, irreversible ways.

And then I put the acid cherry on top of it all. I make the brutal coup d’état.

I turn and walk away.

I don't ball my fist until I turn the corner and she can't see me anymore. Anger and sadness swirl around just behind my eyes. I focus on the window, the snowscape outside of it, a blanket of white that seems to go on forever. Outside, in the snow, Rose talks animatedly with Felix. Morgan isn't anywhere to be seen.

I feel my fist tighten. Rose flashes a tentative smile at Felix, and something in my chest shrivels up. She used to smile at me like that.

Maybe she never will again.

And then I feel another emotion broil up in me. Something I haven't felt since I saw her outside my apartment building with that other guy when I gave her the invitation.

Jealousy.

It's dark and burning and like nothing I've ever felt before. It's worse than when I saw her with that guy months earlier. It's irrational and it's stupid - I don't even deserve to feel any jealousy over her. I more or less dumped her to marry someone else. What kind of asshole am I?

I watch Rose ski down the hill, smiling the whole way.

I'm the kind of asshole who's still in love with a girl who might never forgive me.

***

ROSE

***

"You're actually pretty good for a sun girl," Felix says as he skis down the hill and comes to a stop beside me.

"Sun girl?" I pant, pulling my scarf down to talk more clearly.

"You know, beach girls. That's the kind of girl that lives in like, California, or Florida. Hawaii. Cuba, and Barbados and stuff."

I sigh and motion to my arm, pale from the winter season. "Do I look like I surf to you?"

"You don't tan either then, huh." He nods, looking impressed. "Good. It's bad for your skin. Plus there's enough of those orange Hollywood bimbos running around."

"Felllixxxx!" The shrill shout comes from the top of another ski hill. Felix and I look up - Kiera, in a bright red, fur-lined ski jacket and tight-fitting ski pants is waving. Felix half-smiles and waves back, then turns and shoots me a grimace.

"Like that one."

"She's not a real Hollywood bimbo," I correct.

"Yeah? The whole way here she kept blabbing about her new tit job."

"They are pretty nice," I laugh.

"Shit knows she can afford them," He sighs. Curiosity nags in the back of my brain.

"How do you know her, anyway?" I ask.

Felix frowns. He waits until Kiera's skied down the hill to look at me and answer properly, in a low, hushed voice.

"Uh, you know. School."

"You went to Stanford?"

He scoffs. "No, not that smart. Or that rich. Or, heck, even that ambitious. You gotta be a mix of a lot of things to go there. And being a mix isn't all that good, sometimes."

"So, high school or middle school, then?"

He nods, almost reluctantly. "Back in Arkansas."

"Arkansas?" I sound incredulous. "Kiera's from there?"

"Yup. Her dad started his firm out there, got a good case, then moved the family to California for her freshman year. It's kinda dumb to talk about now, but I had a huge crush on her in middle school. She was different, then."

I arch a brow. "How so?"

He shrugs. "Poorer, that's for sure. Nicer, I guess. She was still a queen bee, but she cared about people back then, you know? One time she punched a guy for making fun of this girl in a wheelchair. That's when I knew I really liked her."

He sighs, and digs his boot toe into the snow.

"People change though."

I look back at the lodge, and there in the window is someone dark-haired and familiar. He's staring out at the view, or us, I can't tell. Probably not us. Probably not me. I feel my heart sink a little as I nod.

"Yeah. They do."

Felix gathers the rest of the beginner class and we arrange to meet on the Alligator slope tomorrow. Everyone looks nervous, but Felix assures us we're ready. The German couple wring their hands anxiously, and I feel my heart beating fast in anticipation. Morgan hasn't to come class in a while, and that thought makes me calm down to the point of almost-sadness. I miss her dearly. She was a little ray of sunshine in the middle of all this craziness.

After practicing some turns and glides by myself until I feel like I've got a better handle on them, I head inside the lodge, walking down the long hall separating the dress-down area covered in slush and hanging skis and the warm, cozy lobby. It's quiet, and I'm the only one in it. For a second I hear something, a heavy step behind me, but when I look there's only the empty hall. I must've been hallucinating.

But when I start walking I hear it again. I whirl around quickly to catch whoever it is, but there's no one there. Memories from yesterday by the hot tub resurface, and I pick up my pace and nearly sprint down the hall. I push through the lobby doors, and almost run into Felix.

"Whoa there, you okay?" He asks. I look down to see my hands on his chest, and I pull back like I was burned.

"Um, y-yeah, I'm fine. It was nothing! Sorry."

"You got a bit of -" Felix motions to his hair.

"Bit of what?"

He reaches out and pulls a pine needle clump from my hair. He drops it to the ground and sighs.

"Ah, Christ." He wipes his sweater where my hands were. "That guy's gonna kill me for this."

"Guy?" I cock my head.

"Tall, dark hair, chiseled everything. Kiera's fiancé or whatever."

"Lee?"

"Yeah, that's the name. Totally threatened me the other night. Told me not to touch you. Like I would even do something creepy like that. He seemed pretty intense about it which is weird, because, you know, you're not his fiancé."

"No," I say quietly. "I'm not."

Felix looks around, and ducks away from me muttering 'shit'. But it's too late. A dark blur collides with Felix's face. Lee punches him so hard Felix nearly staggers hard enough to fall on the floor. Lee pulls Felix up by the collar to snarl in his face.

"I told you. I told you to stay the hell away from her."

"I'm her teacher, man." Felix wrenches out of his grip, gingerly touching his face. For once his monotone voice pitches up and down with anger. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"I know Kiera hired you," Lee snaps. I've never seen him this angry. His eyes are livid and he looks tense, taut, on the verge of snapping. "Whatever it is you're planning to do to her, I won't let it happen."

"I'm not planning to do anything to anyone, okay? I think this is a big misunderstanding."

"You lying piece of -"

"Lee!" I dash in before Lee has the chance to round on Felix again. "Stop it! You're being stupid!"

"Stupid? Do you have any idea what she's capable of, Rose? This guy - this guy isn't who he says he is. They're all liars."

"True. I do lie," Felix says, mopping at his bleeding nose with his sleeve. "My first name's Patrick, but Felix is my middle and, let's face it, sounds waaay cooler."

"Don't try to turn this into a massive joke," Lee snarls. People are starting to stare.

"Hey!" I put myself in front of Lee squarely, trying to block his view of Felix. "Look at me!"

Lee snorts something inaudible and swear-filled, eyes still locked on Felix over my shoulder. I put my hands on either side of his face and pull it down to see me.

"I said look at me!"

Lee's ragged panting slows as his hazel eyes bore into mine. For a moment, it's like the old days. This moment is months in the past, when he still liked me. Maybe love? No. Just liked. But I can pretend I'm about to kiss him, like this, and my body burns with the urge to.

"It's okay," I say softly. "Right now, I'm okay. No one has done anything to me."

"As far as I can tell, Lee," A third voice joins in. Grace saunters up from behind us. "You're the only one who's done anything to her in this room."

Lee flinches, and I suddenly realize how close his face is and let go. I feel Grace's hand on my arm as she pulls me back, away from a confused, hurt-looking Lee and a bleeding, tired-looking Felix. As I get a clear view of the balcony, I see a figure dressed in a white fur-line skirt and shirt, blonde hair in a high ponytail. She smiles, leans on the balcony, and waves with her fingers at me, a silent mockery of my feelings for the man she's marrying.

She's done that to me before, that little wave. The wave that says 'I know more than you do about everything, and I am more than you could ever be'. This time, Lee's anger must've rubbed off on me. Or maybe I'm just sick of being treated like a toy dancing for someone who likes to watch.

I don't ignore it, but I should. But I don't shy away from it, either.

I hold my free fist up, and flip her off.

Maybe she sees it, maybe she doesn't, maybe it’s immature of me, but by the time Grace drags me outside it hardly matters, since I can't see her reaction anymore. Grace is furious, leading me across the parking lot with a ferocious intent and unrelenting pace. She stops at a black, taxi-like car and motions for me to get in. I do, and she gets in, and the driver goes for miles down the mountain before she starts to speak again.

"He's so stupid."

"Lee?" I ask quietly.

Grace shakes her head as if to rid herself of the negative feelings.

"Whatever. Never mind. Tonight is for fun - Ferdinand has been dying to see you, and the village is adorable. There's a bakery I really, really want you to see."

"But, what were you saying -"

"No more idiots. Let's just have a nice night, okay?"

She seems stressed beyond belief just by the tone of her voice, so I let it drop. Pretty soon the car arrives in the village, and the tension the incident in the lobby left me with is pushed out by the beauty of a true French Alps town - every building is made of white-washed stone, with rain-stained tile roofing and old-fashioned windows with heavy shutters. Every gutter and windowsill is puffy and white with fresh snow. Warm squares of honey-colored light spill from the windows and onto the cobblestone streets, and rustic signs in French tip precariously on the tops of rusty poles. Frosted holly and winter ivy lace up the sides of stores and homes. Beat-up, tiny French cars line the streets. Old men in heavy overcoats smoking pipes play chess outside the general store, and women usher their ruddy-cheeked children home and sweep their storefronts clean of slush. It's like something out of a fairytale book, minus the occasional smartly-dressed tourist from the ski resort, and of course, us. Grace leads me down the street, pointing out the dress shop and post office with a lazy black dog sleeping in front of it.

Finally we duck into a narrow door with a bell that chimes over it, and the smell of cinnamon and warm yeast and vanilla extract that hits me feels just like home. It's the best smell in the world, and one I'll never get tired of - the smell of a bakery.

The shelves are lined with fresh rolls on wax paper, fruit tarts dripping with glaze, and pies with crusts so golden Martha Stewart couldn't make them look better. Cake pops and loaves of crispy French bread stick up out of jars, and éclairs, cream puffs, and macaroons glitter with covers of thick chocolate and shredded pistachio flakes. It's heaven. It's a heaven designed just for me. I don't realize I'm slowly walking around gaping at all the goodies until Grace yells to get my attention. I snap out of it and sheepishly wander to her side, where she's talking to a wrinkled older French woman in a billowy white apron that's two sizes too big for her. It looks like it's swallowing her whole, or that she's swimming in it. Her glasses make her blue eyes seem buggy and huge, but her smile is sincere and gentle.

"Bonjour," she says. "Voulez-vous de pain?"

Grace says something to her in rapid French, but I don't have any idea what she's saying beyond the word 'pain' - bread. I smile faintly and try to nod along to show I'm interested, because I really am. This woman is clearly a master of her craft - I can tell just by the way her choux pastries have puffed up perfectly, by the care and tiny details she's put on her quiche, that she lives for baking. Baking is what she's known for so long, it's like breathing to her. Being in a store full of her mastery is nearly overwhelming. Grace says something and points to me, and the woman scurries behind the counter and comes out with a small chocolate-covered cream puff, and offers it to me. I'm hesitant to do anything with it, until Grace laughs and nods.

"Go on, she says she wants you to try it."

"Merci," I say in shaky French. The woman smiles. I take a bite and relish the sweet confection. I was wrong. This woman hasn't baked for decades. This woman's baked for her entire life. My expression must translate my feelings and the taste of the thing well, because when I look up the old woman's eyes crinkle and she gives a little laugh. She speaks in rapid French, and motions for me to follow her. I duck behind the counter, and Grace follows me.

The kitchen is even more beautiful than the front of the store, if that's possible at all. But to me, the kitchen of a baker is always likes that. A kitchen tells a bigger story of the baker's life, what struggles they've overcome to get here, and whether or not they truly respect the craft. The woman flits about with the sprightly nature of a hummingbird, stirring this and mixing that. It's a small kitchen, but very clean. Not too clean, though, which is just how it should be. Too clean means you devote more time to cleaning than to baking. There's still flour in the corners where the counter meets the wall, and a tiny smattering of sesame seeds scattered around the oven. The oven is gas, of course, but there's a wood-burning one made of adobe against the far wall for true bread baking of the artisanal kind. The woman uses wooden utensils, but electronic mixers to spare herself the trouble of constant stirring, which makes sense for someone her age. But I'm happy to see she kneads everything by hand - with the kind of gentle love of a mother as she does it.

It's the perfect kitchen, in the most perfect place in the world.

I watch her work her magic, Grace whispering in my ear after what feels like five seconds.

"I'm gonna go find Ferdinand. When you're ready, we'll be at the pub. It's right down the street."

I nod, entranced and only half listening. When Grace leaves, the woman motions me over with her wrinkled fingers, and makes a kneading motion on the bread as if to show me. It's a strange way - palm first with fingers later, with a spider-like motion. But as I do it more, it quickly becomes almost natural, and I forget how I used to knead in a matter of minutes. When the bread's done, we put it in a mold and in the oven, the wood-burning one. For a while, while we're in the kitchen at least, it doesn't matter that we speak completely different languages, or that we're not exactly fast friends. Baking is all that matters for the both of us. We can communicate effortlessly with dough.

She lets me take over the filling of a new batch of cream puffs. They're so delicate and thin - perfectly cooked all the way through - that I'm almost afraid to ruin them with my clumsy handiwork.

And that's when I see them - sitting on the shelf is a rose-patterned set of mixing bowls, measuring cups, and flan dishes, all made of enamel, and all very high quality.

Those are the same dishes Lee gave me as a surprise gift last year.

I stare at them until the woman nudges me. She follows my eyes to them, and takes them down gingerly, placing them on the counter. She says something in rapid French, but I can only shake my head and repress a watery sniff.

"I got rid of them," I say. "I got rid of them after he left. I couldn't take seeing them anymore."

The woman says something, this time softer, and puts a hand on my shoulder. I don't know what it is about her warm grip, but it blows through the ironclad dam I'd kept over my sadness for so long like a typhoon through a straw hut. It's over. All the defenses I put up aren't shattered by Lee, or Kiera, or any of them. It's this little old woman in a French bakery with warm hands and an understanding smile.

If there's any place I feel at home, it's baking. I feel safe here.

I can cry here, most of all.

Chapter Five

In Which Rose Jensen Falls For A Trap

It takes me a while to calm down, but the old woman is nice the entire time. She doesn't try to kick me out, even if I'm a strange American girl who came in randomly on a Tuesday night and started sobbing for no apparent reason. At least not one she could understand, anyway. I thanks her and leave, but not before she puts a loaf of French bread into my hands. I get out my wallet, but she pushes it back at me and shakes her head, murmuring in French. Before I can protest, she opens the door and beckons me out, but not in an 'I'm kicking you out' way. It's more of a 'go out and confront your fears and then come back and see me again' way. I turn back to look at the bakery as I'm walking down the road - La Cigogne. The sign has a tiny crane of some kind painted on it.

The pub is the only place still open, save for La Cigogne. It's a brightly-lit square on the rapidly darkening street, with a small crowd of people hovering around the entrance and shouting joyfully. I squeeze my way between two beefy guys shouting swears in French. You can always tell when people swear, even if it's in a different language. Something about the tone just rings savage and casual. They don't seem worked up, though it seems like the entire village is in this one pub blowing off steam. There's a thick layer of sawdust on the floor, the barstools are ragged with the passage of many raucous butts coming and going, and the walls are covered in photos of celebrities current and long dead drinking at the bar, shaking hands with the thin man who, presumably, is owner. The same thin man is at the bar, slinging mugs of beer and cocktails with equal skill. Not a single thing escapes him - not the tiniest spillage, not the merest nod for another round. He has a perfectly-trimmed mustache and long arms, and when I walk in he nods at me. I try a smile, but it feels almost out of place in the crazy, loud laughs and grins surrounding me. A woman in the corner plays the guitar, and a massive game of poker is going on in the opposite corner.

"Rose!" Grace's voice pierces through the din. She's about two tables down from the poker game, with the glasses-wearing, terribly fashionable Ferdinand sitting opposite her. Ferdinand hugs me, kissing me three times on the cheeks, and we sit. Grace offers me her wine but I refuse, and Ferdinand tries for a good twenty minutes to get me to try the blueberry beer. I don't feel like drinking. We catch on everything - Ferdinand's latest work in Vogue, Grace's potential to walk for Commes de Garcon in Paris fashion week.

"You should come back, dear," Ferdinand says, now slightly slurring from the beer. "You'd have to lose those few pounds, of course -"

"Ferdinand!" Grace hisses.

"It's fine," I laugh. "It's true, I really have put on some weight."

"You can lose it easily, darling. There are pills -"

"No pills!" Grace thumps the table. "Christ's sake, Ferdy."

"The offer's generous." I smirk. "But it doesn't sound like the kind of world I'd fit into. Or even want."

"Understandable, understandable." Ferdinand waves his hand and downs the last half of his beer in one huge gulp. "No hurt feelings here. I've had perfectly great potential walk out on me before. I'll live!"

In the middle of Ferdinand's fake-sobbing, Grace looks up and stands.

"I'll be right back."

We watch her go up to the bar, where a sandy-haired guy is sitting. Felix. Grace talks to him, and buys him a beer. He thanks her and turns his head to nod at me. His nose is swollen, swaddled in bandages and red around the edges. When Grace sits again, I give her a look, and she shrugs.

"Least I could do since it was my idiot brother who punched him."

"I don't know why he did that," I sigh.

"It's obvious," Grace snorts. "He's still in love with you."

Every fiber of my being wants to believe those words so badly. They want those words to be the truth, honest and real and whole. Over the past few days I'd led myself to believe there wasn't a smidgen of hope. I clamped down on my wishes and wants, all for the sake of reality. All for the sake of my mental health. I can't slip down that path again, the path where I think Lee loves me. That only got me into heartbreak and disaster, last time. I'm stronger now. I'm a different person. Maybe not really different, but I've improved in small ways, or so I like to think. Falling into that delicious, terrifying hole of Lee's love again will only make me revert back to the way I was - spineless, naive, and taken advantage of.

I'm lost in the truest sense. But if I want to move on and be happy, I have to leave some things behind. Even if they make me break down crying in a bakery. Especially if they make me break down and cry in a bakery.

I shake my head and get up. Grace and Ferdinand start talking about Versace's newest line again. I really don't belong in her world, and I'm grateful I only got a small stint in it. I got to experience it without all the hardship and the darker side, and for that I'm very, very grateful.  Grace always talks about how I could do it, modeling, if I wanted to. And I've struggled ever since the photoshoot - no, ever since I hit puberty and everyone started getting boobs and I remained flat as a rock - to accept the fact that I'm pretty. Or, what passes for pretty in front of a camera, in front of other people.

I look over the shoulders of the men playing the poker game. They invite me in to play with loud French, but I laugh and decline. I move to the bar, watching the bartender work his magic. Felix catches my eye, and I catch his. A woman gets up from his right side, and I sit on the barstool she left behind. Felix swirls his drink around but doesn't look my way for a while, so I start the conversation instead.

"Sorry. About Lee."

Felix shrugs. "I probably deserved it somehow."

"What do you mean?"

"Somewhere along the line I probably made someone's life hell, and that punch somehow makes up for it. That's what I like to think, anyway, instead of the fact I'm getting socked because I'm an asshole."

"You're not," I say. "People just...misinterpret things. Lee's got a wedding coming up, so he's probably pretty stressed, and high-strung. Sorry."

Felix snorts into his beer and takes another sip. The bartender raises an eyebrow at me, as if asking if I'll have something to drink. Felix nods at him, then me.

"What do you like?"

"I'm not really a huge drinker -"

"C'mon, you've gotta learned to like something, you're almost done with college."

I chuckle. "Wine? I guess. Red."

The bartender whips out a glass and expertly pours me some, sliding it across the counter to me. I take a sip and can tell it's great wine - nothing like the five dollar bottles Grace and Jen like to get and polish off in one evening. It's sweet and rich and hardly burns going down at all. The bartender watches me, as if waiting for my reaction, and I smile. He gives a satisfied nod and moves on to the other customers. Felix sighs.

"Trouble at six o'clock."

I turn my head over my shoulder to look at the bar's entrance, where Kiera stands. She looks stunning, yet completely out of place in black leather and a blouse with modest gold jewelry. Everyone turns to look at her at least once. She moves through the bar crowd with elegance ingrained, and while she smiles none of the patrons return it. When she comes up to the bar to order a drink (a Cosmo) the bartender makes it with a slowness I haven't seen in his other drinks. He stares at Kiera the entire time he makes it, but she, perhaps rattled by his intensity, looks away, to Felix and I.

"Well, well, I didn't expect to see you here."

I can practically feel Grace bristling behind me. Felix's fingers go strangely white around his mug, and his leg tenses, even though his voice is deceptively casual.

"Hey. You decide to slum it with the dirty peasants tonight?"

She laughs and pats his cheek patronizingly. But there's something in it that's less patronizing than what I'm used to seeing from her, and it's weird. But her next words quickly make me forget all about the oddness.

"Good job, making him punch you. He got you good, didn't he?"

Making Lee punch him? I narrow my eyes. Felix gets shifty in his seat and in his eyes.

"Kiera, look -"

"Ah ah." She taps his lips with her finger, and takes the Cosmopolitan the bartender makes her. She takes a long sip, then another, and another. Felix clears his throat as if wanting to escape, and finally Kiera looks to me.

"Wine, Rose? Rose wine?" She laughs at her own joke, then frowns. "How boring and traditional of you."

I stay quiet, my hand balling into a fist around the wine glass as her taunts grow louder. Her cheeks are flushed.

"But that's how you operate, isn't it? Traditional and boring to the core. Do you think he actually enjoyed it? Lee? Enjoying sex with a prissy little inexperienced virgin like you? There's no chance."

The words sting, bite, stab. They're the same words I said to myself, over and over again, in the months after we broke up and even when we were still together. I doubted. I still doubt. Nothing changed that - and now nothing ever will.

"Kiera, lay off her," Felix murmurs. Kiera laughs at him, fully and in his face.

"You're one to talk."

Before Kiera can say another word, there's a blur of motion behind her and a horrible clattering of barstools and glasses. Someone's shoved Kiera onto the floor, her blonde hair scattering and her gold jewelry clinking over her cry of pain. Kiera quickly staggers to her high-heeled feet, and the entire bar falls silent in an instant. Grace stands over her, face triumphant and gloriously furious.

"You!" Kiera snarls. Grace doesn't give her the chance to say more. She lunges at Kiera, and the two girls fall in a tangle of limbs, hair, and flying sawdust. The bar erupts in half-cheers, half-boos, crowding around the fight. The bartender, on the other hand, never stops polishing the glasses to perfection with quick, yet meticulous care, and doesn't once pause to look at the fight or interfere. I get jostled out of the inner circle, and I quickly retreat back to Ferdinand. Felix jumps in and tries to stop the fight more than once, but the burly French men making a ring around the fight stone wall him. Felix isn't a small guy, but he might as well be pushing a rock with a feather for the all the good he's doing against the backs of these guys. Ferdinand whoops appreciatively when a flash of Grace's angry face bobs above the heads of the crowd and goes back down again. By the sound of things, Grace is definitely winning - Kiera's yelps and screeches are a dead giveaway. Part of me wants to break it up, and the other part wants it to keep going. Kiera deserves a punch or two to the kidney, but if it's not me doing it, I'm not going stop the person who is.

Soon the fight leaks out onto the sidewalk, outside the bar, and by now everyone has a betting pool on who will come out on top. With a smaller crowd outside, Felix finally manages to get to the heart of the fight, and breaks the two girls up. He holds Kiera's arms behind her back as she lurches and screams at a satisfied-looking Grace. Kiera's make-up is smeared, one earring missing, and her hair is a mess.

"You'll regret ever touching me, you coke-sniffing whore!" Kiera screams.

Grace waves as Kiera limps way. She's considerably better off than Kiera, with more hair in place and a more intact make-up. I push off the barstool and dash up to her. Without a single word I throw my arms around her neck and hug her, and she laughs and hugs me back, and we know exactly what I'm trying to say; 'thank you', and 'kick-ass job'.

We go back inside, and Grace is greeted with a wave of applause. She bows, and the patrons offer to buy us drinks, but Grace and I just sip our wine and revel in the knowledge that, for once, the wicked witch got a house dropped on her pride.

And it must hurt like a bitch.

I’ve won. Well, Grace has won, technically. Someone has won against Kiera, at least. But it only lasts for a few minutes. After that, I get a new drink. Grace is busy being congratulated by the bar on her win, but Felix slips through the crowd and smiles apologetically at me.

“Sorry about Kiera.” He leans on the bar next to my drink. “Your friend can take care of herself though, huh?”

I search his blue eyes. His words might be light, but I can see what he’s feeling deep down. I know that look.

“You’re in love with Kiera, aren’t you?” I ask.

He freezes, every muscle in his body visibly going tense. There’s a long pause of clinking glasses and drunken Frenchmen laughter before he puts his head in his hand, mussing his bangs up and giving a hopeless sort of chuckle.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Can’t say I see what you see in her,” I say. “But you must have your reasons.”

“Like I said, she wasn’t always like this.”

“So you stick around, hoping the old her will come back and realize she loves you, too.”

He flinches, but doesn’t refute it.

“I guess that makes two of us,” I say.

I turn back to my drink and down it quickly. It doesn’t take long. The world starts spinning violently. I feel light, drunker than I really was a moment ago. I stumble, and Felix catches me with his arm.

“Are you okay?” He asks. I laugh.

“No. But I’m getting better.” I look to Grace and motion to Felix over the heads of the crowd. Grace nods, and holds up her cellphone to let me know to text her when I get back. I grab Felix’s arm and start out the door.

“I think I need to lie down. Can you help me get back to the –”

There’s a bright yellow flash as I look directly at the lamppost, and I can’t feel my legs anymore. There’s the sensation of someone picking me up – Felix – and walking steadily to the hotel. Snow crunches under his feet. He stops to rest a few times. And then everything goes dark around the edges, and I fall into a deep pit of sleep.

I wake up off and on, pieces and fragments of reality seeping into my senses. Kiera. Darkness. Felix. Arguing. Darkness. The sound of tearing foil. Darkness.

And then there’s no more darkness. It’s morning.

And then there’s Lee’s face, pale and furious but relieved and tender beneath it all, staring back at me.

***

LEE

***

When I wake up the next morning, Kiera's got a black eye.

I quirk a brow as she comes out of the shower. I didn't hear her get in last night, so she must've come back late. Not that I care - her out of the bed means I get it to myself without her grabby hands all over me. I spent the night in other ways - more self-satisfying ways without her tainted, warped version of love spread over it. It was the nicest night I've had in weeks.

"Did you get punched out?" I ask. Kiera towels off her hair and throws a glower my way.

"What does it look like?"

"It looks like you finally got what was coming to you," I say evenly. I expect Kiera to internalize it in her deadly calm, bitter way. She does, but something about her smile is wrong. Something is wrong with the way she looks at me, and it's sending chills down my spine in all the worst ways. She slowly dresses, always thinking it somehow turns me on to see her go from naked to clothed. Vain. She's Vain and self-conceited but I still don't like this new turn of emotion. I've never seen her with a black-eye, or this gloatingly happy.

"You'll get what's coming to you too, Lee. Today, actually. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did."

With that cryptic statement, she grabs her purse, one of her ridiculously puffy jackets, and leaves. The hotel door clinks closed heavily behind her, and I'm left with the silence, the snow outside my window, and the looming sense of dread rapidly ballooning in my stomach. She'd planned something. She'd executed it. And all she had left was to see my response, no, my pain. That's what she lives for. She feeds on it like a succubus, and that satiated smile she gave me can only mean one thing - she recently fed very, very well.

I quickly get out of bed and throw on some clothes. I have to check on Rose. As long as she's alright -

When I throw open the door, I see the envelope lying in front of it. Someone must've just dropped it here. It just says one word on the front in plain black text; Lee.

Warily, I pick it up and take it back inside. I tear it open, and the sight of what's inside leaves me cold down to my fingertips almost instantly.

Rose.

Except she has no clothes on – she’s completely naked, and tangled up in bed sheets that look very familiar. A cold and deadly calm seeps into me. My rage is so hot it instantly cools over into white fire, and I quickly switch from anger to calculated revenge. What sick son of a bitch took these of her, and how fast can I find him and, most importantly, tear his balls from between his legs?

She's sleeping in the picture. The bed sheets are exactly the same ones we have in our room, the same every room in this hotel has. But it's not her room - Grace said they have two twin beds, and the one she's in is a queen. And the most incriminating evidence of all is the condom wrappers spread about the sheet. Each one is burned into my cornea, into the back of my eyelids so that I see it when I blink and when I open my eyes. My hands are shaking violently as I flip through the pictures, trying to find some hint of where these were taken. On the back of one picture is a tiny set of numbers – 228. No one would write them here on accident.

It takes all I've got not to throw up a little in my mouth. All my worst nightmares have come true. Who the fuck would take pictures of her like this? Who the hell is close enough to her - no, who is she sleeping with in this hotel? Did she even agree to sleep with them? This is Kiera's doing and I know it. The coldness in my blood is melted by instant rage, hot and boiling. In the pictures Rose looks so innocent, so completely and totally trusting. Kiera's doing everything in her power to ruin that part of her, and she's succeeded.

I pray to God she hasn't succeeded.

I’ve never run faster in my life. I jump down half a flight and my kneecaps almost give way but I keep running, shoes pounding over carpet. The bellboys shoot me strange looks, the hotel desk clerk opens her mouth in the beginnings of a ‘can I help you’, but I glare at her and she backs off instantly. An overweight German man is in my way, a muffin dangling out of his pudgy hand, and I duck around him with a snarl.

228 is an unassuming door. It looks like every other, painted white with brass lettering and a fancy knob. My hand hovers above it as uncertainty takes over. But the urge to make sure she’s alright pushes all that out of my mind, and I wrench on the knob. It’s locked. I knock on the door with my fist, insistently and constantly.

“Rose? Rose! Are you in there? Open the door!”

No response. I bang on the door harder.

“Rose! Please, open the door!”

“Pleading won’t get you anywhere.” The voice is cool and collected. I turn to face my father, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Where did you come from? Are you the one –”

“Don’t be stupid, boy,” Farlon sneers. His hair is grayer than ever in the weak morning sunlight, his Spanish tan pale and uneven. He looks tired, sharp, hungry. He looks terrible and decrepit. I almost feel sorry for him, but then I remember exactly who he is.

“Are you involved in this at all?” I snap. “I swear to god, I will fucking kill you if –”

“Tsk. What a mouth. Your mother’s rolling over in her grave at the words coming from you right now.”

“Mom’s dead,” I say. “So don’t bring her into this. Where is Rose? Who took her? If one of you or Kiera’s pawns touched her I’ll -”

“You have to consider the following,” He switches to Spanish. “See it from her perspective; a boy dumps her to become the fiancé of a richer, prettier girl. She has been heartbroken, yes. But women are resilient, admirable, and often stupid. They learn to love again, and again. They pick themselves up and put themselves back together from true heartbreak far quicker than any man.”

I clench my fist in warning, but Farlon just keeps yammering.

“She is young. She has her life ahead of her. She has a promising, budding degree in her dream career – due in no small part to you, but she doesn’t know that, of course – and she is, by American standards, quite pretty with a little makeup. But she is not the independent sort of creature, is she? You showed her love, and then left her. She will crave it again, and if she cannot get it from you, she will turn to another. Perhaps she already has.”

“You piece of –”

“Ah ah, if you’re going to insult me, do it in English. It sounds so much more sincere.” He smiles.

“Fuck you,” I snap. “You don’t know anything.”

“Don’t I?” He sighs. “Is that why I saw who she went home with? You can ask the village if you don’t believe me – everyone at the pub saw her walk out with that blonde American boy.”

My stomach does Olympic flips in its own juices. I feel like puking. I pound on the door even harder.

“Rose! Goddamnit Rose, open the door!”

“She won’t answer you. From what I heard that boy say, she was completely ‘worn out’.”

The urge to punch his smug face is so strong I have to grip the doorknob with both hands and yank frantically on it. If I keep my hands busy I won’t sock the living daylights out of my own slimeball father. Farlon sighs behind me.

“If you’re going to be stubborn, at least be sensible. Do you think when your mother left me, I foolishly kept throwing myself at her door? No. I left with some pride still intact. I suggest you do the same.”

His receding footsteps don’t make me turn around. Nothing does. I’m laser-focused on the door, on seeing Rose’s face, on asking her if it’s true, if she really did sleep with Kiera’s pawn. The mistake slams into me with more force now than ever. Farlon is an asshole. I’m an asshole. But the difference between Farlon and I is that he’s right. I left her. I left Rose. That hurt. And now she’s leaving me.

That hurts more.

That hurts the most.

That hurts in places it shouldn’t – places I never thought could feel. It aches in my spine, in my ribs, in my lungs. I can barely make out the sound of my own shouts above the loud pumping of my blood in my ears. I’m yelling for her. Can she hear me?

Does she even want to hear me anymore?

His receding footsteps don’t make me turn around. Nothing does. I’m laser-focused on the door, on seeing Rose’s face, on asking her if it’s true, if she really did sleep with Kiera’s pawn. The mistake slams into me with more force now than ever. Farlon is an asshole. I’m an asshole. But the difference between Farlon and I is that he’s right. I left her. I left Rose. That hurt. And now she’s leaving me.

That hurts more.

That hurts the most.

That hurts in places it shouldn’t – places I never thought could feel. It aches in my spine, in my ribs, in the space between my lungs. I can barely make out the sound of my own shouts above the loud pumping of the blood in my ears. I’m yelling for her. Can she hear me?

Does she even want to hear me anymore?

And the door cracks open, held in place by a chain lock. It's not Rose's face on the other side - it's Felix's. He looks pale, but my rage quickly pushes that observation aside.

"Where is she?" I slam my hand on the door.

"I kicked her out," Felix says, dully. "I've had enough of her crap. She went too far one time too many."

It takes everything in me not to reach through the crack in the door and grab him by the collar to shake him. But the look in my eyes must tell him something, because he quickly corrects himself.

"Kiera. I kicked Kiera out."

"That's not who I'm asking about!" I shout. Felix looks over his shoulder and to the bed. He unlocks the door and motions for me to come in, but in the time it takes him to open the door I've already squeezed through. I stand at the bedside and look down at it. The sheets are crumpled, and nestled in them is a half-naked Rose, sleeping. But someone's pulled the covers over her. Her eyes flutter open just then, and my breath catches.

"L-Lee?" She asks in a sleepy voice.

"I'm here," I kneel at the bedside. "Rose, what did they do to you?"

She glances around the room with a confused expression. "Do to me? What do you mean?"

"Did he -" I point to Felix. "Did he touch you?"

She cradles her head in her hands, moaning. "N-No. But it's blurry. No one touched me, I think."

"Someone spiked your drink," Felix says. I bristle as he comes closer, so he stops in mid-stride. "At the tavern last night."

Rose's eyes widen. "The bakery! La Cigogne. And then I went to the bar, and Kiera and Grace fought. But Kiera left. Someone spiked my drink? It couldn't have been someone from the village. No one knows me. So who -"

Felix shoots a nervous look between me and Rose. I get up and pull him by his collar.

"You sonofa - "

"Listen!"

"I'm not listening to your Kiera-controlled ass!" I shout. "You're scum! You know that? Fucking scum!"

"Lee!" Rose snaps. I pull away from Felix reluctantly to look at her.

"Don't try to stop me, Rose. He's been after you this entire time -"

She gets up. She stands from the bed in all her naked glory. The only thing she's wearing is a pair of blue-striped panties. Two jolts run through me - the first is my nerves standing up and taking very careful notice of the body I used to run my hands over, the body of the girl I still dream about. The second jolt is my notice of the way she's changed - she's put on subtle amounts of weight, and it makes her even more beautiful. More full. More mature. The sight of her stupefies me into silence as she nears me and looks into Felix's eyes.

"Did you spike my drink with GHB?" She asks softly.

Felix groans reluctantly, but nods.

"Did Kiera tell you to?"

He nods again. She puts a hand on my arm and smiles at me.

"I remember now. A lot of it's fuzzy. But I remember Felix brought me back to his room. Kiera was here, waiting. She wanted you to..."

Rose trails off. It goes unsaid in the air. I feel my fists curling, and Felix speaks.

"I swear to you, I didn't -"

Rose shakes her head. "I know. I remember. You said you wouldn't do it. Kiera tried to make you, but you argued with her until she left."

"I was in the shower," Felix says quickly. "I went to take a shower and Kiera was tearing up condoms and throwing them all over the bed, taking pictures. It was sick."

"So that was your plan?" I snarl. "Drug Rose, rape her like the sick asshole you are, and have Kiera take pictures that'd hurt me?"

"I would never!" Felix roars. It's the first time I've heard his voice raised that loud. It must startle Rose, too, because she flinches back. Felix lowers his voice to a furious calm.

"I would never, ever, rape someone. The deal was to drug Rose, put her in my room to make it look like she slept with me. Kiera's obsessed with trying to make you hate Rose, you know that. I went for a shower and she changed the plan up on me. She wanted me to really do it. And I might love Kiera, and I might've come here because she asked me to, but for fuck's sake - I'm not a monster."

He messes his hair up in utter frustration. He looks towards the trashcan under the desk, where a bunch of condom wrappers sit on top. My fury at him lessens, but only marginally. I know where he's coming from. Rose is staring at me, but when I make eye contact, she looks quickly away and flushes. She walks over to the bed and pulls the sheet of it, swathing herself in it. I want nothing more than to kiss her right now, but I know better. Felix might be having a spat with Kiera, but he still tells her everything that goes on regarding Rose and I.

"I believe you," Rose says softly to him. "Thank you for...not doing what she said to."

"You don't have to thank him," I sigh. Rose punches me lightly in the arm.

"Yes I do. Everyone's been looking out for me. I owe them a lot. Thanks again, Felix."

"Anytime," He says. "I'm gonna try to find her. Confront her about this."

He turns and leaves without a word. The silence in his wake is overwhelmingly choking. I try to break it.

"Kiera sent me pictures. Of you, in that bed, with all these condom wrappers around you, and I thought -"

"Thought what?" She cocks her head. "I still can't believe she really did this. I knew she was possessive but not this possessive. I haven't done anything. Besides, she shouldn't have to worry about me getting in the way - she's the one you want to marry. Not me."

Rose smiles, but it's faint and only half-real. I want to tell her everything in that moment - the truth, about the money and Kiera's blackmail deal. Before I can stop myself I reach out to hug her, pull her into me and make her feel my heartbeat so she knows the truth. But she spins on her heel and makes a dash for the bathroom just as my hands glance over her shoulders. At first I think she's furious at me and is going to lock herself in it, but then I hear the sounds of her vomiting. I stand in the doorway. She's bent over the toilet and heaving, and I walk over and gently pull her hair up and rub her back in slow circles. When she calms down, she looks up and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "It's a good thing. The GHB is probably moving out of your system."

"Maybe. But I've just been sick the whole time I've been here," she says.

"Could be the altitude," I offer. "Some people are more sensitive than others."

She smirks at me. "Oh really?"

I laugh for the first time in a long time. It's a true, golden laugh, the kind that comes from your stomach instead of your throat. Relief courses through me, and temporary happiness. I'm sitting on the bathroom floor with a half-naked Rose, cracking maybe-dirty jokes. It feels...normal. It feels right. I want this feeling to last forever. I want it for the rest of my life and she's the only one who's ever given it to me.

"Rose!"

The hotel door slams open, and Felix stands there, panting madly. Rose and I quickly stand.

"What's wrong?" She asks.

"It's Morgan!"

Felix doesn't have to say anything more - Rose is dressed in a flash and pulling me along with her down the hall. Felix runs and we run after him to the lobby, which is now packed with a crowd of murmuring people. Grace waves to us and we push through the crowd to her.

"What the hell's going on?" I ask.

"Morgan is missing," Felix says.

"What?" Rose starts. "What do you mean, 'missing'?"

"Over there." Grace points to a sobbing, well-dressed couple towards the front of the crowd. "They came into the cafeteria and haven't stopped crying. Something about the kid's empty bed, and a note she left?"

Rose muscles her way through the crowd, shouting 'excuse me' and 'please move'. She gets to the parents and starts talking to them, and the mother clings to her instantly and wails. Grace looks to me and Felix.

"Where was Rose? She wasn't in the hotel room last night."

"I helped her back," Felix says quickly. "She just fell asleep on my bed and refused to move."

Grace quirks a brow and glances at me, as if for confirmation everything worked out okay. I give her a slow nod, and she seems satisfied with it. Rose comes back to us just as a man in full skiing gear shakes off snow and walks into the lobby. He raises his hand and the crowd goes quiet. He speaks in rapid French, but Grace translates fragments.

"He's a mountain ranger. Something about a search party? These people have volunteered to help look for her."

"I'm going, too!" Rose insists. "Let me get my jacket."

She's so driven, I barely have time to smile at her before she's gone up the stairs.

Chapter Six

In Which Rose Jensen Gets Lost

***

ROSE

***

I take the stairs up to my room two at a time. The idea of Morgan out in the snow, all by herself, is sending waves of nausea all over my body. I feel like I want to throw up again. She’s so sweet, and young, and brave. She must be terrified.

Morgan’s parents and their hard shell of privileged haughtiness had melted completely away when I talked to them. They’re so worried they can barely speak properly, but I got the gist of it – they woke up and Morgan was gone. She wasn’t in her bed, or anywhere in the lodge, or the other lodges. Her skis were gone. She’d left a handwritten note that said she was going looking for me – someone told her I’d broken my leg on the Alligator slope and needed help. That scares me twice over. Morgan likes me enough to brave the snow and the intimidating Alligator slope to look for me, and someone in this lodge was sick enough to convince a child of something false to get them outside and potentially kill them. The rangers had been informed, so they’re keeping an eye out for anyone who’s acting suspiciously, but still. It’s scary to think someone that evil is in the lodge. Not even Kiera would do something like that, I think.

I duck into our room and pull my jacket on, and a pair of snow pants. As I’m walking back, I hear them – footsteps. It’s the same person, and they’re following me again. Panic surges up in my throat like a white-hot plug, but I keep moving forward steadily. I can’t be afraid. Morgan is out there, more afraid than I’ll ever be. I have to find her. I can’t let this person who’s been stalking me get to me.

I whirl around, and this time, I come face-to-face with Farlon.

“You!” I back up. “You’re the one who’s been following me?”

“Following is such a coarse word,” he sighs. His hair is way grayer than I remember, and he looks like he hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep, lately. “It makes me sound like some sort of criminal.”

“You’ve been trying to scare me,” I say. I won’t let him see how angry I am, or how disturbed. I have a little girl to find out there. I have to make this quick, and decisive. I won’t let fear slow me down.

“I had to make sure.” Farlon shakes his head. “And now I know for sure.”

“Make sure of what?” I narrow my eyes.

“I know what happened that night in the hotel,” Farlon says. “Right before the Christmas charity event. You and my son had sex.”

I almost laugh. Yeah, we had sex. We had sex a lot of times before that, too. Why does he care?

“I’m sorry,” I say. “That I had sex with your son. Are you one of those types who wants their kid to wait for marriage or something?”

“No. Not at all. I know Lee’s been…active for some time. That’s not my concern. My concern is he was always careful with the others. With you – you stripped his control from him. No. To put it more accurately, you made him lose control. With you, he was not so careful.”

“‘Careful’? What are you talking about?”

Farlon steps close to me. I back up, but he shakes his head, and something in his eyes softens.

“I am sorry for everything that happened. I am sorry for what I made him do. He and I…we haven’t had the best relationship since his mother died. He’s never forgiven me for letting her die. I had my own selfish reasons for making him marry Kiera –”

“Making him marry her? I don’t understand what you’re saying!”

“I was hasty,” he sighs. “I deemed you unfit for him simply because you were just another in a long line of girlfriends of his. You are a fine person, Rose. After watching you for longer, I know that now. I thought I was breaking up a mere fling. I thought he was more truly in love with Kiera. But I’ve been watching carefully, and I’ve seen the damage it’s done to him, and to you. And I apologize.”

“Since when did you break up anything? And why bother telling me this now?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not my place to tell you any of that. Lee will tell you. It’s his job. He did not guard his heart with you, and now he’s made quite the mess.”

Farlon’s eyes are riveted to my chest, then my stomach. He’s a jerk, and now he’s transformed into some kind of perv? I cross my arms and snap.

“If you’re not going to tell me what you’re talking about clearly, I’m going to go. There’s a girl I have to find out in the snow, all alone.”

Farlon smiles. “Yes. She likes you, and you like her very much. You’re good with children.”

“There won’t be a child to be good with if I don’t hurry,” I say, and push past him, his strange words ringing in my ears.

***

LEE

***

The crowd of volunteer searchers is getting restless. Felix sighs.

"I gotta go out there, too. I can't let that little girl be by herself out there."

Grace nods and elbows me in a 'let's go' way. We return to our rooms and bundle up, and when we get back the ranger passes out supplies - radios, flares, bottled water, rations, and blankets. Rose is so eager to go she's the first out of the door once the ranger's assigned her a group with Grace and a few others. I argue with him to be assigned to her group too, but their group is already so far away outside the ranger just shrugs and says he'll put me in the next one.

"I have to go with her!" I argue.

"You cannot!" The ranger snaps, his French accent heavy. "I 'ave a clipboard here, it tells me names of group. You are not in group, you must be in other group. Do this the right way or other people will get lost and hurt."

I swear, and jog outside before anyone can stop me. I catch up with Rose, and grasp her on the shoulder.

"Hey! Look at me!"

She whirls around, a fire sparking in her eyes that could probably melt the snow around her if it was a real flame. I lean in and kiss her forehead.

"Be safe. You gave me a scare this morning. Don't do it again, or I'll learn some black magic, resurrect you from the grave, and kill you again."

She laughs and hugs me, tight and long. "You always know what to say to a girl."

Grace pats my shoulder. "Don't worry about her. I'll make sure she gets back okay."

"You too." I point at her. "You stay safe too."

"I always do, worrywart."

It pains me to see Rose walk away from me again, but she's got her goal in mind. I know her when she gets like that - nothing can stop her. All I can do is support her and hope she knows what the hell she's doing. And she has Grace with her. Grace knows how much she means to me. She won't let Rose get in trouble.

I trudge back inside, every fiber in my body on high alert. Worry courses through me like adrenaline. Felix and I wait for the ranger to sift through the huge crowd and assign us a group, too, but it's taking forever. Small clusters of people leave the lodge and being their search. The crowd slowly dwindles. Felix nudges me in the ribs and points to a corner of the lobby, where Kiera is sitting in a puffy jacket on one of the seats by the window. She's not volunteering to search, of course. And she's smiling. That's always a bad sign. Felix jerks his head towards her, wordlessly telling me we should question her. I nod, and we walk over to her.

She claps her hands. "My two favorite boys in the whole world! Hello. Please sit down."

"In case you haven't noticed," I snarl. "There's a little girl missing. We're going to help find her."

"Out in this weather?" Kiera looks genuinely shocked. "You're going to freeze to death! Oh well, suit yourself."

"It's strange," Felix says slowly. "Bad things are happening, one after another. And it's always when you're around."

Kiera laughs. "Felix! How long have you known me? Fifteen years? I'm perfectly innocent. I'm not the one who spiked a girl's drink last night and took her back to my bedroom."

I narrow my eyes. "You told him to. And you were the one who took pictures, and scattered those condoms. You wanted me to think they slept together to force me apart from Rose."

"I shouldn't need to force you apart!" Her voice pitches up. "You agreed to marry me, Lee! I filled my half of the conditions. I paid for everything. I stayed away from her for months. I've been waiting for you to fulfill your half! But you still hang on. Every time you look at her I know you're still hanging on!"

She stands, expression livid and her hands balled into fists.

"Do you know what that's like? Having someone promise you something, and having them go back on that promise after you've kept your side of the bargain? It feels like shit. It feels like shit!"

Her scream draws attention from the crowd to us, but only for a moment. Felix is tense beside me, standing straight and wincing when she raises her voice. Poor guy. He really does like her. Kiera seems to realize she's making a scene, and composes herself, her smile returning as she saunters slowly closer to me. She laces her arms around my neck and breathes in my ear.

"I only want you, Lee. I've done everything you've asked, everything you've wanted. So let me just have you."

Felix clenches his fists tighter. Kiera's hand glances down my stomach.

The sick guilt in me rises up, but this time I know what to do with it. I grab her hand and force it away. I put space between us, and I look her directly in the eye, like you'd look at a charging bear.

"The deal's off, Kiera. I'm not marrying you."

Felix visibly relaxes. Kiera's face goes from happy, to forcefully happier, to flat and deadly when she realizes I'm not kidding after a minute of silence.

"You can't." She says, voice low.

"I can. And I just did."

She snarls, and then halfway through starts laughing. She makes as if to lunge for me, but stops herself, and laughs more. She laughs until people are staring and there are tears in the corners of her eyes. She slaps her knee and comes up for air.

"O-Oh alright. That's fine. That's just fine. You won't marry me. But you can't marry her, either."

I'm quiet, and she raises her voice and points to the TV in the lobby, which is on the weather channel.

"You'll never marry her. You'll never see her again."

I look up, my heart doing flip-flops. The weatherman points to a map of France, his French rapid and quick, but you don't have to know it to understand what the giant swathe of blueish white moving across the map of the Alps is.

"Daddy's friend at NASA so kindly told me it was coming. They know before everybody else. Isn't it wonderful?" Kiera laughs. "We're going to get snowed in!"

Rose is going to be caught in a blizzard. Grace, too.

I turn and run to the ranger, who's on his radio.

"Sir -" I push through the crowd. "There's a blizzard -"

He looks up. "I know, non! I'm calling everyone back!"

He shouts something in French and the search groups just leaving the lodge slowly trundle back inside. The mother and father of Morgan are being comforted by police, now. They speak in low, broken English.

"It's alright. Professionals will find her."

"Our baby's in that blizzard!" The mother shrieks. Her husband grabs her shoulder and pulls her close.

"They'll find her. They've got police and search and rescue coming. I promise, they'll find her."

I turn back to the ranger. "What about the first group? They left a half hour ago!"

"I'm contacting their radio as fast as I can, monsieur -"

The lights suddenly cut out. Several people yelp in surprise as the lodge is plunged into total darkness. The ranger shouts in French, and the police do, too, directing the panicky people to sit down on couches and chairs. A few of them go to the front desk, others head towards the rooms, and a few more go to the kitchens. The snow outside has started moving sideways, the wind whipping it with vicious brutality. And it's only getting worse. In the distance is a massive bank of white, like mist, completely obscuring the trees. The sky is almost as dark as night, heavy gray clouds blocking all light from the weak sun.

I can see Felix, angrily gesturing as he talks with a smug Kiera.

She's not just smug. She's officially insane. I stare at her, trying to make her understand what she's done.

But she knows exactly what she's done. I don’t know how she did it. But she’s pulled her final ace card. She’s truly manipulated someone to death. Two someone’s. Maybe more.

I won’t let that happen.

I grab a radio and food rations and my coat. In the blackout and the confusion, it’s simple to slip out unnoticed through the side door of the lobby.

***

ROSE

***

All I can think about as I push through the heavy snow is Morgan's face. How happy she looked putting that snowman together with Lee and I, how happy she looked skiing. Morgan rushed out here because of me, because someone convinced her I was in trouble. She's out here because of that evil person, but also because of me. If she gets hurt -

I shake my head and push harder through the snow drift. I can't think like that. I'll find her, and she'll be perfectly okay.

"Rose!" Grace calls, panting. "Slow down!"

"We need to check these tree lines!" I shout. I turn back to the group, and motion to the dark green rows of trees sitting on the mountain ridge below us. "I'll get this side, you guys get the others!"

"Madam!" The ranger accompanying us calls. "Madam, you must stay with us, together!"

"It's fine!" I wave. "I've got Grace with me! And the sky's clear, we can see each other perfectly! We'll just be right there."

"We'll just be searching the woods and tripping over bears," Grace puffs under her breath.

"There are no bears out here." I frown. "At least I don't think so. If there are, they stay the hell away, since humans scare them and the ski resort's right there."

"Forgive me if your wildlife logic doesn't ease my fear of a thousand tons of fat and claws running towards me."

I laugh. We walk to the other ridge, swiveling our heads for any sign of Morgan. The other group is calling her name, the echoes ringing between the mountains. We’ve still got a good chance of finding her, or so the ranger said. The first twenty-four hours are the most important, though, so we have to hurry and make sure every one of those hours count.

"If you're really scared about bears," I start. "Just make lots of noise. Shout for Morgan a lot. They'll run from loud noises like that if they can help it. Morgan!"

I inhale and shout in one long, loud note.

"MORGAN!"

"Morgan!" Grace yells. We wind around trees and step over huge, snow-dusted roots. The snow is deep but not impossible to walk through. It's like running on sand, though, and tires my legs out quickly. But I have to keep going. Morgan's probably tired out here, too. And she's probably cold. Shivering. I hear Grace behind me sit on a log to rest.

"C'mon, Rose. Let's take a break."

"No! She's gotta be around here somewhere."

"Rose," Grace groans.

"I'm just going over the ridge to get a better view," I say. "You stay here and rest. I'll be right back."

"We're not supposed to split up. Lee would kill me if -" Grace stands, but her legs tremble and give out under her. She sits back on the log.

"It's okay, really! I can see you just fine from the ridge, I won't lose sight of you. Just stay here, and I'll be back soon."

"Rose." She makes her voice low in a warning way.

"Grace," I imitate her, then hold up my radio. "You've got one too. You can talk to me while I'm going up there to keep tabs on me, okay?"

Before she can protest more and slow me down, I start up the hill. The snow sinks under my boots, filling them with tiny bits of wet flakes. I'm warm, and almost burning up from all the layers of wool and the constant hiking for the last half hour. Morgan has way more energy than me - she must've gone farther, and higher on the ridge. I pant, using tree roots to pull myself up the hill as it gets steeper and steeper. My boots slip, but I manage to keep my balance and push forward. Finally, after what feels like forever, I'm standing on the top of the ridge.

But there's no view.

I turn, but all I can see is white. It spreads as far as the horizon, or where the horizon would be. It's fog. But where did it come from? And why is it so cold? The air is so bitterly freezing it hurts to breathe in. This can't be just fog. It's too thick, too heavy, almost like it's got a weight of its own.

"Grace!" I shout. "Grace!"

No response. I fumble for my radio and press the transmit button.

"Grace! Are you there?"

"Yeah! What the hell is going on? That mist came from nowhere!"

"It's just gonna make it harder to find her," I muse.

"You need to come down from there, right now!"

"I'm fine! Let me just check this ridge."

"Now, Rose! Lee would kill me if I lost you in this."

"I can't leave if she's here!" I argue, pushing aside a tree branch as I move deeper into the ridge.

"Rose....swear.....down....after..."

I shake my radio to hopefully jolt the connection back into place.

"Grace? Hello? Grace!"

"....you....piece....storm..."

I keep yelling into the radio, but all that comes out is garbled static.

"C'mon you stupid thing!" I snap. I fumble with the dial to try and get a better signal. A gust of wind blasts into me and I nearly drop it. I scrabble to hold on to it and stow it away in my jacket. I start down the hill the way I came, the thick fog becoming impossible to ignore as the wind blasts louder and harder with each passing minute. The snow fall becomes less like flakes and more like shards of ice tearing at my exposed skin. I'm close to Grace, I know it.

"Grace! Grace, can you hear me?" I shout at the top of my lungs, but the wind blasts the sound back at me, muffles the words like they never escaped my lips to begin with. That's when the first seeds of panic start sprouting in my mind. I could get lost out here. Maybe I'm already lost. And the wind and snow is only getting worse. I'm trapped out here during a storm. But so is Morgan.

All the survival tips I'd learned growing up, like making a snow fort to keep warm and not wearing wet clothes against your skin and staying in one place until help can find you goes out the window. Morgan knows none of those. She's helpless out here, and if I don't find her, I'll never forgive myself.

I don't recognize any of these trees. I don't know which way is up, except that the hill tells me, but even then I don't know if I'm on the same spot of the ridge anymore. Sometimes I catch voices, shouts, but they're whipped away by the wind so quickly I can't tell which way they came from.

I shiver and hug myself.

I might die out here.

I might actually die.

Maybe Morgan's already dead.

I shake my head and push onward. No dark thoughts. I'll find her. I've got water and enough rations for a day or two. She's a smart girl. If she came out here and got stuck in this same storm, she'd find a good place to hide and stay warm. A cave, maybe, or a rock outcropping, or under a large tree's roots. I look for places like that - places a little girl might go to keep dry. I walk for what feels like years, the storm growing angrier around me. The wind smacks my face, my wrists, every inch of exposed skin. Sometimes it's so fast it steals the breath out of my lungs before I can exhale. My shoes and socks are heavy with snow and water, blisters biting at my toes and ankles. I'm still warm, but my limbs are starting to get cold on the very edges. I pull my hood around my face tighter and press on.

Finally I stumble, and it's a hard stumble. The snow cushions me, but my foot is wedged between two rocks and I cry out as gravity pulls me down and tries to pull my bones the same way. I can barely hear it above the storm, but there's a split-second groan coming from my ankle, like a tree branch under great pressure just before it snaps. The pain is blinding. White spots dart across the back of my eyelids and I scream a soundless scream as the wind wipes the noise away. I try to pull my foot out but every tiny movement sends prongs of hot agony up my leg. When the wave of initial pain fades and I finally pull my foot slowly free, I can think well enough to realize I've sprained my ankle. Sprained? No, it hurts too much to just be sprained. Maybe I've fractured it. Whatever the case it hurts like a bitch, and as I pull myself up by a tree branch and take a step I realize I won't be able to walk very far. I need to find a place to rest, and fast, or the blizzard will overwhelm me with cold and I'll die of hypothermia now that I'm not moving.

I can crawl better than I can walk, so I drag myself over the snow in slow, tiny, steady bursts of movement. My ankle still screams with pain, but adrenaline and endorphins are flooding to it, so it's become more of a dull ache. I'm such a fucking idiot. I never should've gone off the path, away from Grace. She was right. Even so, I was so worried about Morgan. I still am.

But if I don't find a dry place to rest out of the wind soon, I'll be too dead to worry about her anymore.

Chapter Seven

In Which Rose Jensen Meets Her Grandfather

My vision’s getting blurry, and that’s always a bad sign.

Usually it means I’m crying. But right now it means I’m dying. And crying. After you fracture your ankle and drag it through a mile and a half of forest floor, you cry. It’s just what you do. And as you keep dragging yourself, you look around and realize there’s only white snow, and dark forest, and the horrible storm howling in your ears about how it’s going to kill you.

I burn up the last of my energy. I can actually physically feel it leaving me. I pull myself over a root and collapse there, the snow crunching against my cheek. If I don’t make it back, how will they find me? Will anyone find me at all? Am I gonna be dug up a thousand years later by humans or aliens or whatever lives here? Will they give me a pet name like all of the other frozen mummies they excavate in the name of science?

I don’t want to be a mummy! I push myself up and then immediately flop back down. I can’t even move. Everything hurts. I’m gonna be a frozen mummy and there’s nothing I can do about it except flop around and contemplate my life as my brain slowly falls asleep and dies.

I don’t want to be a mummy! I push myself up and then immediately flop back down. I can’t even move. Everything hurts. I’m gonna be a frozen mummy and there’s nothing I can do about it except flop around and contemplate my life as my brain slowly falls asleep and dies.

At least Lee will be alright. He'll marry Kiera. Or maybe he won't. He seemed really mad at her after that thing this morning. Figures. The only guy I've ever loved will break up with his fiancé after I'm dead. Sounds about right. Mom and Dad will cry a lot. Riley won't do so well - he and I are pretty close. But he'll learn to move on. Grace and Jen will be devastated. I hope Pierre forgives me, and finds a decent replacement for me at the shop.

I'll never get to see, or to make, my bakery. My dream.

I'll die, and the world will move on.

That's when I see it.

A swan.

I blink, hard and rapidly. I must be seeing things - hallucinating now that my brain is slowly shutting down. I sit up, and tilt my head, and sure enough I see the swan etched in the bark of a tree. It's beautiful, with tiny feathery details and outstretched wings. It looks so familiar, somehow. Beyond the tree is a glow. Light! Bright warm, yellow light.

It could be the light at the end of the tunnel. I could be dead already, moving like a kind of ghost who doesn't know she's dead. Or I could still be alive, and it could be my salvation. Either way I don't have a choice - I have to follow it. I muster the last of my energy in my arms. My ankle cries out, I cry out, my muscles curse at me for using them beyond their limits, but I keep crawling. My knees protest every time they hit rock or hard roots. Just a little more. Just a little farther, and -

My hands meet a door. I reach up and turn the knob, and thank God when it opens. I pull myself into the entry way, and shut the door behind me. It's cold in here, but not as cold as outside.

"Rose?" A little voice pipes in. I look up and squint, trying to make out the blurry figure on the landing. I see a pink jacket, but before I can open my mouth and say anything, the world spins violently, and everything goes dark.

***

I open my eyes, and I'm in a white room.

It can't be the place I stumbled into in the middle of the woods - that place wasn't white. This place is all white. Not snowy, or anything, just pure white walls as far as I can see. It's not cold at all; in fact, it's really warm. Comfortingly warm, like a nice bath or stepping out of the airplane in someplace hot like Hawaii. I'm standing, too. Last I remember, I didn't have enough energy to stand. But here I am, my legs not shaking in the least.

A blur of color forms on the horizon, and draws closer. But I know who it is even before he becomes defined.

"Grandpa!"

He holds his arms open, and I run into them. He still smells like tobacco, and he's wearing his favorite flannel shirt. His hair is frizzy as ever, and his smile is the most happy I've ever seen it.

"You took your sweet time getting here," He laughs. "Always stubbornly keeping on, even past your limits. Very much a Jensen thing."

"Why are you -"

"Ah, ah," He holds up a finger. "No questions. Just listen to me, and listen to me well, Rose."

I nod, and pay close attention as he speaks.

"I love you very dearly. And I'm so proud of you. But you can't come here. Not yet."

"But -"

He gives me a warning look, and I sigh and close my mouth. He smiles and pats my cheek.

"You have people waiting for you. And besides, there are two of you, now. You have to look out for her, too."

"Morgan? She's fine. She's in the cabin, nice and warm."

Grandpa smiles brighter, and chuckles. "You'll find out soon enough. Now go. Turn around, and keep walking. Walk until it hurts again. That's when you know you're safe."

"Safe? But I -"

"Go, Rose."

He uses his authoritarian voice, and the kid in me who used to play at his house every summer knows there's no arguing with that voice. I give him one last hug, and turn around and start walking.

There's white everywhere. I look back, but Grandpa's gone. The white behind me is gone. It's just black. I keep walking, trying not to think about any of this, or how real it might be. I'll walk until it starts hurting, just like he said.

And then all at once, the pain comes back in my leg, and the white around me turns to a deep-sleep black.

***

For the second time in a row, the first thing I see when I wake up is Lee's face.

"Rose! You're awake!" He exhales, smiling, and he turns to someone and yells. "She's awake!"

My vision slowly becomes clear, the blur of sleep fading. Was I asleep? What was all that with Grandpa? Before I can think it over too much, Morgan comes bounding in, followed by the little old lady from the La Cigogne bakery. She smiles at me, and Morgan grabs my hand and bounces up and down.

"You're awake! You're awake!" She cries. The old woman says something in French behind her, and to my surprise Morgan replies in perfect French, and turns back to me.

"She says not to be too excited around you or it'll wear you out again."

"I'm f-fine. I think. Thank you," I say to the old woman. She nods, and Morgan stamps her foot and hits Lee on the shoulder.

"See? You were being dumb, with all that crying. She's fine!"

"I didn't cry, you little punk!" Lee snaps back at her. "Some snow got in my eye!"

Morgan laughs, and I start laughing, and Lee's face lightens and he joins in. The old woman says 'Morgan', with a delightful French accent, and Morgan turns to us.

"Okay, I'm gonna help Vivienne with the soup. You guys stay here and make out or whatever it is gross couples do."

"Will do." Lee salutes. Morgan makes a face and runs off. It's then I notice my leg is bandaged - put up in some kind of splint. Lee sees me staring at it.

"Turns out the old lady lives here."

"How did you -"

"Morgan found this place when she was looking for you. And then, by some miracle, you found it when you went after her. You fractured your ankle, or so the old lady says. How the hell did you manage to make it here with a fractured ankle?"

"I - I crawled."

He exhales incredulously. "Crawled? Shit, Rose!"

"I'm okay now!" I protest, and pull the warm blanket up to my chin. I'm on a bed in a room - a fire roaring in the fireplace on the opposite wall. The wood cabin is cozy, with china figurines of swans on the rough-hewn shelves and beautiful crotched throw rugs and pillows.

Lee's dark eyes burn into me, hotter than the fire. He leans in and pulls me into his arms. I can smell his sweat and the shaving cream he uses, the scent mild and tantalizing in so many ways.

"I thought I lost you," He croaks, voice so hoarse it's a near whisper. "The old lady said it was fifty-fifty."

"I chose the good fifty, then." I smile, and run my hands through his hair. He grabs my hands with one of his own and presses it to his lips as he speaks.

"I broke it off with Kiera."

My heart starts pounding against my ribs almost instantly.

"I've been lying to you," he continues. "I didn't get engaged to her because I wanted to."

I tilt my head, and he shakes his.

"Promise me you won't hate me if I tell you the truth."

"I hate you for coming after me," I say. "You should be at the lodge, safe."

"I couldn't stay there, not with you in the blizzard."

"How did you find this place?"

"You're changing the subject," he sighs. "I've been angsting for months over this, so just let me say it."

I hesitantly nuzzle my face into his neck. "Okay. Go ahead."

He freezes up beneath me, and I relish the feeling of his tight cords of muscle pulled taut. I'm touching him again. And that's everything I wanted but couldn't have for months now.

"I agreed to marry Kiera because she offered money. For Farlon's loan sharks. For your college fund. And she offered to buy your Grandpa's house to help your parents' with their business problems."

My fingertips go still as I run them through his hair again. My nails dig into his scalp, and he flinches.

"You did what?" I ask softly.

"Don't, please," he murmurs. "I'm sorry. It was the only way I saw that I could help. I just wanted to help you, Rose. God, that's all I've ever wanted."

He leans in, his nose grazing my cheek as his lips hover over mine.

"I just wanted to make you happy."

I pull away. "But you didn't! You did the opposite! You -" I feel my eyes sting with tears. "You hurt me. I wasn't happy at all!"

"I know. Shit, I know that! But Kiera promised not to hurt you if I married her. You saw what she was planning with the GHB yesterday. That's the smallest bad thing she threatened to do to you, Rose."

"I could have handled myself!"

"I know, but Kiera on top of everything else? All your money problems? It seemed like the best solution! And you - at least you had your bakery. Your dream. You still have it. And your parents - you don't have to worry about them anymore. Marrying me so soon after meeting me, forcing you to make such a huge decision with a guy you barely knew, even if it was for money - that was unacceptable. It was hurting you. It wasn't fair to you."

"So you turning around and doing the same thing with another girl was fair?"

He winces. "No, but I'm more used to -"

"What, pretending to like someone? I never pretended, Lee. Never. But instead you went off and made the decision for me, without me! You never asked what my feelings were. And it's really fucked both of us up."

He swallows, his throat bobbing. "I know. I'm sorry."

I reach out and trace his collarbone peeking out of his shirt. "So you...for me, you agreed to marry her?"

He nods, and puts his hand around my waist, cupping the small of my back.

"You -" I swallow, my throat suddenly dry as sunbaked desert ground. "You still like me?"

"No," he says. My heart takes a dip of despair, but then he leans in and kisses me with such ferocity I'm stunned. His tongue grazes over my lips, over my own tongue, across the ticklish roof of my mouth. I let out a little moan, and he smiles against my bottom lip as he murmurs.

"I love you."

He moves his lips down my chin, to my throat, and bites my neck softly. The moan I let out this time is loud enough to have him looking towards the door. He stands and goes over to close it, locking it and returning to the bed with a languid sort of grace. He lies besides me and returns to my neck.

"There. Much better."

I arc my back as he runs his hands up under my shirt, behind my back. I throw my arms around his neck as he unclasps it with ease, reaching beneath it and fondling the soft skin just below my breasts. He traces my ribs, one by one, lightly and teasingly. I work my shirt and bra off and throw them off the bed, and it makes him laugh. He runs a hand up my stomach and his rough palm cups on of my breasts. He looks up at me thoughtfully.

"They've grown."

"A little." I flush. He smirks and leans me back on the pillows before taking the nipple in his mouth. It's hot, and wet, and his tongue flicks it back and forth until my toes start curling. He bites it, softly, and then makes his way to the other one. I can barely breathe as he drags his tongue down further, to my navel. It's only when he reaches the hem of my underwear do I realize I'm not wearing pants, and that I have the most unflattering pair of underwear on ever - an ancient old gray pair with a worn-out bow. But it only makes him smirk wider as he slides them off down my legs, careful to avoid my ankle. He moves to the end of the bed, pulling his shirt off and exposing his beautiful amber skin. In the firelight it looks like gold cinnamon, his delicious line of slight, barely-there abs all but begging to be touched. But before I can think about doing that, he leans on the bed and wraps his arms beneath my stomach.

"W-What are you doing?" I stammer.

He taps the splint on my leg very softly. "The old lady gave you some painkillers. But I think I know a better way to make you forget about this."

He widens my legs very gently, and leans forward. I'm totally exposed, and the hot breath I feel completely confirms that. We've done quite a lot, but never this. My heart's beating a million miles a minute, and I know he can feel that in the pulse of my stomach his hands are spread out on.

"Lee, it's not going to -"

At the first lick, my eyes roll back in my head. At the second, I let out a strangled cry, and Lee's lips smile as he plunges deeper. Compared to my heat, his tongue is almost cool. My hips spasm with every soft insertion, but his wide, strong hands hold me down and keep me from losing total control. His tongue brushes every sensitive part, every bump and ridge, and I quickly start panting and moaning. One moan is so loud I clap my hand over my mouth, but Lee stops, looking up at me and frowning.

"No," he says, licking his lips. "I want to hear you."

"But -"

"Take your hand off your mouth." His voice is soft, but firm in ways that make me tingle. Once my hand is all the way down, he resumes his teasing, and I resume my vocal gymnastics. The sound of what he's doing down there alone is enough to make me louder, and by the feel of the damp blanket beneath me I know I've made a hefty soaked spot. My hips begin moving in time with his own ministrations, and that's when he presses deeper, his nose bumping my clit and making my thighs tremble. And right when I think it's going to happen, he pulls away and moves up on the bed, a devilish look in his eyes as he licks his lips clean.

"I don't want to hurt your leg."

"Y-You weren't!" I pant. "I was - I was just about to -"

"It's a very nice leg," He continues playfully, unzipping his pants. "I wouldn't want to make it crooked by having it heal sideways."

"You!" I hit his chest, and he laughs and steps out of his jeans and boxers. In the firelight I can see him in all his glory, and it's glorious indeed.

"Are you on anything?" He asks.

"Yes," I pout. "I learned about birth control."

He smirks and leans in, kissing my neck. "I'm glad one of us did."

"We were careful!"

"Not that last time. I was too busy tying you up."

I flush harder. He leans over me, kissing down my neck and to my navel again. I squirm, and he smiles against my belly button.

"Since your leg is out of commission -" He lies as if spooning me, and I roll gently onto my side. He glances his hand between my legs, tracing the soft part where my butt meets my thighs, and then pulls my good leg up. His cock prods at my entrance, but I'm so wet it meets no resistance and slides in to the hilt instantly. He groans, lacing his hands around my waist and pulling me into his chest.

"It's t-tighter than I remember. Are you alright?"

I roll my hips and squeeze, and the movement pulls a moan from him.

"Does that answer your question?"

"Fuck, Rose."

"Yes, that's exactly what you're doing."

He laughs, and starts moving. I move against him, our bodies an endless wave. I pull my leg to my chest and he kisses my neck and breathes against it, eagerly going twice as fast. I've missed the feel of him in me, and having it like this, so hot and full and hard, makes me lose my mind quicker than he does. The pleasure roils through me, dwindling and coming back three times as strong, his every thrust sending a riptide of bliss up and down my body. My spasms make sure he follows shortly, his cock twitching inside me as it erupts. He murmurs my name like a mantra in my ear, over and over, getting more hoarse the more pleasure he feels.

I tilt my head to kiss him when we're both calmed down, my teeth scraping his lip as I kiss the corner of his mouth. He shudders, and slowly I can feel him growing rigid inside me.

"Again?" He pants.

"How long until soup's ready?" I laugh.

"Soup can wait."

"It'll get cold."

"So will you," He whispers. "And I think you are much more fun to warm up."

***

Soup and sleep are the only ways to pass the time as the blizzard bombards Vivienne's cabin. Well, that and sex. It's fervent, and passionate, and at times almost frenzied as we reacquaint ourselves with each others' bodies. Vivienne is, of course, perfectly understanding, and does her best to keep Morgan from listening at our door, which, mercifully, locks well. Between those times, I bake with Vivienne, who teaches me the most amazing tricks to handle yeast, and how to properly whip up a meringue. I learn more from her than I have at Pierre's shop in the entire year I've been there, and that's really saying something. The food, of course, is to die for. Vivienne cooks the best and most authentic French countryside fare - cheddar stew, grilled onions and carrots in braised turnip butter, and hearty, unsmoked slabs of bacon that melt on our tongues. On the third day of delicious food and constant snow, Lee and Morgan are in the other room. They surprisingly get along well, in a competitive older brother-younger sister way, and he's working with some crayons in a coloring book with her. Vivienne and I are baking croissants. Well, she's baking them, and I'm mostly watching her skillful hands manipulate the puff pastry dough in masterful ways. She speaks to me in French, and I've only learned a few words; 'come', 'stop', and 'good'. Those are the ones she speaks to me as she's teaching me her baking ways. But the beauty of a kitchen is you don't need to speak the same language necessarily - you can tell by looking around the kitchen exactly what needs to be done or what will be done soon.

Vivienne watches me putting on an apron. Her large eyes never fail to catch the slightest detail, baking or otherwise, and right now is no exception. I tie it tightly and help her lay out the next sheet of puff pastry when I feel it - a slight, but unmistakably independent twisting in my stomach.

"Ah!" I gasp, and put my hand to my belly. "What the hell was that?"

Vivienne stops what she's doing to stare at my stomach. She says something in French and points to it, but I shrug.

"I don't know what you're saying."

She disappears from the kitchen and reappears with a tiny baby shoe, holding it up with a big smile for me to see. She repeats her French phrase, points to the shoe, and then my belly. Panic grips my throat instantly.

"What? No way! I - I've been on birth control for a while now."

She says something else in French, and motions to a bright red washcloth.

"I told you! I haven't had them because I've been on birth control, not because I'm pr-"

I can't form my mouth around the word. I know what it is, and how to shape my lips around it, but pushing it out is impossible. All that comes out is a defeated little breath of air. Vivienne mimes vomiting. She's heard me vomit in the mornings.

"That's elevation sickness!"

She puffs out her cheeks and makes her belly big.

"I have not put on that much weight! It's just....it's just stress weight!"

She sighs, defeated, and goes back to the counter. She leaves me to fall apart right there in the kitchen - I can't be pregnant. I can't be!

'Oh yes you can,' my inner voice says. 'That night at the Christmas party was a major slip up.'

I can practically feel the blood draining out of my face as the realization hits me. I've been eating more. I've been throwing up in the morning. I've put on weight. But the Christmas charity ball was three months ago! That means I've been pregnant for three entire months without knowing. God, what am I, an idiot?

"Rose?" Lee comes into the kitchen, a bouncing Morgan at his side. "Everything okay? You look a little pale."

Seeing his face, so trusting and open, I feel even sicker. How can I tell him? What will he do? It's not like we've ever talked about something like this - hell, we haven't even talked about how a long-term relationship between us would go. We were only together two weeks back then. A baby is a huge responsibility! Before he can say anything more, I dash into the bathroom behind him and vomit again. Lee comes in to comfort me, and Morgan talks with Vivienne in rapid French.

"What did she say?" Lee asks Morgan when she walks over to us. "What's wrong?"

"Um, Rose should tell you, not me. But I wanna have dibs on naming its middle name, okay?"

"Naming? What are you -"

"It's fine!" I regain my senses enough to speak and rinse my mouth out with water. "It's okay. I'll tell you later. Let's just...go help Vivienne now, okay?"

He has a bewildered look on his face for hours, but the busy work of preparing a massive dinner distracts him and gives me the time I need to think. What if he doesn't want it? What if I don't want it? I'm not done with school. I haven't even started putting together the frame of my bakery business, yet. With a child that will become ten times more difficult.

But it's my baby in there. Lee and I. It would be terrifying, but I don't doubt it'd be rewarding. If it was a boy, it'd look as handsome as Lee, I'm sure. If it was a girl, it might even look a little like Grace. 'It'. It's so weird calling it that. But for now, that's all it is, and all it can be. If I get attached and Lee doesn't want it, I don't know what I'll do. Maybe I already am attached.

An entire day passes, and Lee respectfully doesn't bother me about telling him what was wrong. We sit at the fire and read. Morgan has the best reading voice, and she's only halfway through Pride and Prejudice when the blizzard finally decides to lift, six days after it began.

Vivienne wraps my ankle one last time the next morning. The sun shines through the cabin windows, showing us just how much it snowed in the last few days. Everything looks so bright and new and crisp outside, and Morgan is dying to get out and roll around in the freshly fallen snow. I've relied on Lee to lean on as I walk around the cabin, and as we leave it's no exception. He holds my arm and I hobble down the stairs, a little indignant he's been helping me around the house, but mostly grateful. I'll be glad to walk on my own two feet again, that's for sure.

Vivienne has a tiny red car, and we all pile in and drive down to the village. It's been a bad blizzard, with no phone service at all, so the people back at the lodge have no idea if we're dead or alive. Morgan's parents are the first ones we call using La Cigogne's phone. Morgan tears up and her mother is so loud on the other end we can hear it echo in the bakery through the phone. When she's done, she hands it to me, and Grace is on the other line, sounding breathless.

"Hello? Rose? Is that you?"

"Hi Grace. Sorry to make you worry."

"Oh my god!" She shrieks. "Oh my god, you bitch! Do you have any idea - do you have any idea what's been going through my head this week? You! You -"

"I know," I say soothingly. "I'm sorry. Lee's here, too."

"Oh thank god," Grace sobs. "The rescue team said - the rescue team said there was no chance -"

Lee leans over and takes the phone from me.

"It's okay, Grace. We're fine. Well, Rose fractured her ankle, but we splinted it and it'll be alright." Pause. "I know, but I wasn't gonna leave Rose out there -" Pause. "Did she go home?" Pause. "We'll be right there. Hold on."

He hangs up, and looks to me.

"Kiera."

Chapter Eight

In Which Rose Jensen Tells A Secret

Vivienne lets Lee borrow the car, and he drives like a maniac back to the lodge. I know he doesn't like Kiera in the slightest, but as her ex, I think he still feels guilty about various things he had no control over during their relationship. It makes him feel responsible, and if anything it's a sign of what a good person he is. He might not like her, but somewhere deep down he liked who she used to be. He won't tell me what's wrong, but when we pull into the parking lot and get out, Morgan running into the lodge to hug her parents, I know exactly what's going on.

Police.

There's dozens of cars in the parking lot, and several officers wandering around outside the lodge. Lee helps me inside, and the number of officers triples. In a small town with not much to do, any disturbance is as good as an excuse as any for a maximum response. Grace runs up to me and slams into me, hugging me around the neck so tight for a second I can't breathe. She does the same to Lee, but punches him in the chest before hugging him. Her beautiful face is red and her eyes are puffy, an indicator of just how much she's cried in the past few days. Her hair is disheveled. Our disappearance really did a number on her.

"You idiots." She sniffs, then yells. "You idiots!"

She hugs us both at the same time, and her phone starts ringing wildly. She looks at it.

"Jen," she says. "She's so worried it's not even funny. Here, Rose, you talk to her."

As I try to persuade Jen that no, I am not in fact half-eaten by a bear and talking from the afterlife to her, I see Lee stride off in the direction of a small crowd. Kiera's in the middle, and Felix is with her. Several police officers are asking her questions, and she's snapping at them with a mean look on her face. In the back of the little circle I can see Farlon, sitting at a chair and watching the Kiera interaction with a smug look on his face.

When Jen is sufficiently reassured that I'm not pulling a Sixth Sense on her, I walk over to Farlon. Grace doesn't. He looks up at me and smiles.

"Rose. Good to see you alive and well. Both of you."

"That's what you meant," I say slowly. "Before I left to look for Morgan. You knew I was pregnant."

"There are subtle signs," he sighs. "I've bred mares all my life, and contrary to what humanity likes to believe, we are not all that different in our physical signs of health from animals. I admit, I'm not the best breeder, and I've been lazy and indolent managing the ranch, but since I was a young boy I've had the innate talent of sensing what mares were pregnant and which were not. It's a gift, you could say. When Lee and Grace's mother was still alive, it would anger her to no end when I'd realize she was pregnant before her."

He chuckles.

"How -" I start.

"It's the way you walk, mostly," he says quickly. "Wider, and with a strange lilt to the gait. That's why I was following you around the lodge - I had to make sure I was correct."

I'm almost offended he's comparing me to a horse, but I'm also amazed. Vivienne didn't even guess at it until I'd stayed with her for six days, but all Farlon had to do was stalk me through the lodge halls once or twice. He sighs.

"Frankly, I would welcome a grandchild. I know Lee and Grace have less than stellar impressions of their own father, but I'd like to hold a grandchild in my arms, just once, even if they wouldn't allow me any other contact with it."

His voice is kept carefully level, but I can hear the dark fragment of sadness buried deep within it. It bleeds out over his words and makes it clear as day that he wants nothing more than to hold, love, and spoil a grandchild. But he's convinced he'll never get that chance, and he's realizing, just now, how far he's alienated his own son and daughter.

"I don't - I don't even know if I'm going to keep it," I murmur.

"It would be nice if you did. He doesn't know, of course?" Farlon jerks his head to Lee, and I nod. "Yes, well. He's very dense with these sorts of things. And it seems you two have only recently reconciled. Perhaps it's for the best not to have it."

I flinch. Just the thought of not having it stabs an icicle of pain into my ribs, right between them and to my heart, twisting there like a cold finger of torture. Farlon raises an eyebrow.

"Do you want to keep it? That is truly all that matters in these sorts of things. It is your body."

"I do!" I shout, a little too loud. I lower my voice. "I really do. I want that...more than anything."

He smiles, faintly. "That is good to hear. If the time comes when you are about to give birth, I would offer you the ranch to stay at. The Spanish countryside will be beautiful in six months. September is when we start training the foals for show, and the leaves of every tree turn gold. The groundskeeper has planted a vegetable garden, too, and the smell of rosemary and lavender is everywhere. You would eat well and rest well - I would ensure that much."

"It sounds amazing. It's a really nice offer, thank you. But I have to talk to Lee about everything, first."

"Indeed. He is a little young to be a father, but then again, so was I."

Farlon and I watch Kiera as the police officers question her. She looks so frustrated. Lee's hanging on the edges, and Felix looks almost relieved.

"What happened?" I ask.

Farlon laughs. "Her friend Felix approached me. He knows who I am, of course. Kiera called me here to...partake in some illicit activities that involved a young girl and a date rape drug. I refused to do it, of course. I am cruel, but I am a grown man - above such petty games you children play. During the blizzard, Felix told me he did it instead, and that he regretted it. I offered to call some people who knew some people, and here we are."

I furrow my brow. Kiera's voice is so loud it's easy to hear the conversation even from where I'm standing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" She screeches. "I don't even know what GHB is! Don't you dare touch me! Do you have any idea who my father is?"

It's then that the lodge doors open, and Charlie Rothman walks through the door. He looks the same as ever - broad in the shoulders, with almost pure white hair. Kiera has his piercing blue eyes, but not much else. When Kiera sees him, she breaks free of the police circle and runs to hug him.

"Daddy! Tell these idiots they can't arrest me!"

Charlie frowns, and speaks in a low voice to the officers. I can't hear what he's saying, but Kiera can, and her face pales with his every word. She stamps her foot and glares at Felix, who stands tall against her searing gaze.

"You can't!" She points at him. "You can't testify against me! You have no proof!"

Felix fishes around in his pocket and holds up a USB drive.

"This is you, asking me to get the GHB. Your voice, Kiera. Your plan," he says.

"You idiot - you'll go to jail too!" She wrings her hands. I've never seen her this nervous or anxious before.

"That's fine," Felix scoffs. "As long as it means you learn your lesson, too."

"Daddy! You can't!"

Charlie looks to Farlon and nods, and Farlon nods back.

"I'm sorry, Kiera," Charlie says. "But it's high time someone stopped you. I love you, but I can't stand around idly while you go down this path of destroying others."

"I'm not -" Kiera makes a half-laugh, half-scoff. "I'm not destroying anyone! Felix put the GHB in her drink, I saw him! It's his fault!"

"For being my daughter," Charlie interrupts. "And having gone to Stanford Law, you are awfully self-incriminating. You just said you had no idea what GHB was, and now you admit to seeing him put that exact thing in someone's drink? I advise, as your lawyer, you remain silent."

Kiera fumes silently, glaring daggers between Lee and Felix and I. She sees Farlon last, and points accusingly at him.

"You! You did this! You backstabbing little weasel! We had a deal!"

Farlon shrugs languidly. Lee and Grace look to him, both their faces a mixture of confusion and incredulity. I can read their thoughts, almost; their father? The man they hated so much - he was the one who finally put a stop to Kiera hurting me?

"That's not all she did," Felix says. The entire lobby's watching the scuffle, now. "Ask your friend from NASA what she wanted to know, Mr. Rothman."

Charlie raises a heavy brow at Kiera, who snarls.

"Shut up, worm!"

"She was the one!" Morgan chimes in, running over and pulling on Kiera's skirt. "She was the one who told me Rose got lost on the Alligator!"

"Be quiet!" Kiera snaps, giving a little kick of her leg. Morgan lands on her butt, and her parents quickly scoop her up and away from the furious Kiera.

"The witness testimony is overwhelmingly against you." Charlie shakes his head. "Let's go."

"Go where? I'm not going anywhere! I haven't done anything wrong! Lee! Lee, tell them! I haven't done anything wrong!" Kiera screams. Two officers hold her arms, and she fights against them, lunging for Lee, who stands a few feet away. He's her last hope - the only person who hasn't turned against her. He's watching her with remorseful eyes, and I know he's torn. But beneath the tear, he's making a decision, once and for all. Lee looks at me, and smiles, and then turns back.

"Goodbye, Kiera," he murmurs.

"No!" Kiera shouts. "No, no, no! Lee! Tell them they're wrong, Lee!"

"Kiera Rothman, you are under arrest," One police officer says in highly French-accented English. "For the purchase of Class B illicit drugs on French soil."

"Daddy!" Kiera screams.

"Be quiet," He says, calmly and steadily. "You're lucky it's not a murder charge. Let's go, officers."

At his word the officers turn and leave, and one of them puts Kiera in cuffs. She wrenches around, trying desperately to escape, but their grip is like iron. She looks to me, her face now wet with tears, and her perfect bun askew on her head.

“Please! Rose, you have to help me. Please! I never meant to hurt you. I never – I just wanted –”

Lee. It goes unsaid between us. She just wanted Lee. So did I. I backed off the last time. This is just like the Christmas charity ball, but this time I’ll tell her how I feel. I’ll fight for what I want, instead of letting it slip through my fingers.

“I’m sorry,” I say to her as she passes, the police officers jerking her along. “But I want him, too.”

Her tear-stained face slowly dissolves, the pitiful look in her eye turning ferocious.

“Bitch! You fucking bitch! You were planning this all along! I swear to you – I’ll never forgive you! You ruined everything! Everything! You ruined everything!”

Her shouts become sobs as she gets farther and farther away. Felix nods to me, and I nod to him, knowing it’s a sort of farewell as he follows her, also in handcuffs. Kiera might hate being arrested, but Felix is right where he wants to be – next to her. Maybe now that she’s lost everything, she’ll notice she still has something, someone, right beside her.

Charlie walks up to me, and shakes my hand.

“I wanted to apologize personally for my daughter’s behavior. From what Farlon’s told me, you’ve suffered the brunt of it.”

“It’s…it’s really alright. You don’t have to apologize. I still owe you – you bought my parents’ house and saved their business, so –”

“Nonsense,” he scoffs. “If it weren’t for you, and Farlon’s concern for you, I would’ve never been informed of just how low my daughter had sunk. She paid off all the others, silenced them in horrible ways. But Farlon grew a conscious somehow, and braved her influence, and for that I’m grateful.”

“I’m glad I could help?”

“You did. And I can never repay you. I knew when we spoke while looking at your grandfather’s house that you were something special, Rose. I only see now how special – who else could have faced my daughter’s wrath for so long and lived to tell the tale?”

He laughs a sad laugh, and I reach out and pat his arm.

“I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not raising her right. I’m sorry for not seeing what she was capable of sooner. The very lifestyle I worked so hard to give her she ended up using for her own gain, and that’s exactly what I never wanted her to do.”

Charlie looks up. I feel Lee’s arms snake around my waist.

“Hello, Charlie,” Lee says.

“Lee.” Charlie nods. “Your father has done me a great favor today. Send him my regards.”

“I will.”

“And look after Rose, will you? You’ve gotten yourself a very special girl, this time around.” Charlie winks. He turns and leaves after the police officers, his back straight and head held high. He’s a proud man, and I feel so bad. How did someone like Kiera come from someone so upright like him?

Lee hugs me tighter, murmuring in my ear. “That’s it, then.”

“That’s it,” I exhale. “She’s gone. For a while, at least.”

“Can’t say I’m not happy.”

“You liked her.”

“Once. Once, a long, long time ago. Poor Felix. Guy has more dedication than I do, that’s for sure.”

“And a taste for pain,” I add. “That’s all he ever got from her.”

His hands tighten around my stomach. “Did Farlon really call Charlie in?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. Never thought he’d ever do the right thing again. It’s nice, being proven wrong.”

“He’s not so bad,” I say.

“What did you and him talk about over there for so long?”

“Pregnant?” Grace’s screech is so loud I flinch. She comes running over from where she was talking with Morgan, barreling straight at me with a wild look in her eyes. “PREGNANT?”

I can feel Lee go still behind me, his hands dropping as Grace runs in and hugs me around the neck, bouncing up and down.

“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it, oh my god! Why didn’t you tell me, Lee?” She demands. Then she sees Lee’s face, and I see Lee’s face. It’s frozen in shock, his mouth agape. Grace clears her throat, suddenly realizing what she’s done.

“Oh. Um. Sorry, I didn’t - ”

“It’s okay,” I laugh. I reach up and cradle Lee’s face with my hands, gently. “Hey. You okay?”

He snaps out of it, looking down at me with the tenuous near-terror-near-joy of someone who can’t quite believe something yet.

“Is…is it true?”

I laugh again, the sound watery this time as tears spring up in my eyes. He’s happy. He’s smiling. I nod wordlessly, and his smile gets so bright I’m nearly blinded. He picks me up by the waist and whirls me around, and I scream and laugh, holding tightly onto his head for support as the world blurs in a perfect circle of color and light.

When he puts me down, he rests his head against mine and murmurs into my ear.

“I love you, Rose Jensen. Don’t you ever fucking forget that.”

“I never did,” I whisper back.

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

I look out the window and see the red horse again.

It’s beautiful – coppery, like the color of a brass penny in a sunset. Its mane and tail are more cinnamon-brown, and its legs and waist are so slender it’s almost breathtaking. Somehow, despite its elegant frame, it manages to tear around the pen at the speed of a cheetah on crack – doing dozens of laps, kicking up its heels and whinnying with the purest, most unbridled kind of happiness. Sugar Sparkle In the Morning. That’s her name. She’s a Thoroughbred, the kind people pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for. She’s particularly rare – her beautiful red coat has garnered a lot of interest in the southern Spain horse circle, or so Farlon’s told me.

I look down and rub my stomach idly. It’s bulging a lot this morning, and every day it feels like I’ve outgrown another shirt. Farlon’s told me a lot in my time here. He and I usually go out in the morning to the stables, and he lets me give each horse a treat of sugar lumps and dried apples. He’s a tender, concerned grandfather – always asking if I’ve eaten enough, or bringing me something cool to drink, or making sure I stay off my feet. I couldn’t have asked for better attention or care.

I stretch my arms and watch the bright golden leaves of the cherry trees slowly fall through the air. The Montenegro Ranch is the most beautiful place I’ve seen, besides that little town in the Alps. The ranch is all rolling hills, golden with the last dregs of late summer. The horses canter in the massive fields – males and females separated, but having fun nonetheless. Farlon’s out with the foals in the far distance, training them to walk for shows with the other stablehands.

I turn to my bed. My room is enormous, made entirely of polished wood and green-ivy patterned blankets and curtains. It’s been my home away from home for months now, but as soon as the baby is born, I’ll be going back to L.A to finish the business degree I’ve taken a break from.

I pick up the package on my bed and read the lettering – From Grace, To Rose. I tear it open eagerly and find a magazine inside, with Grace in a bright red dress on the cover. Ferdinand landed her a cover on a Korean magazine, and she’s never looked better. I smile and flip it open to her photoshoot, and marvel at just how much prettier she’s gotten. I didn’t think it was possible. She and Jen are moving in together back in L.A, and Lee and I are taking over their old apartment. It’s a good compromise, and the thought of having that entire fancy apartment to myself is getting me all excited about things I never thought I’d be – decorating, rearranging. Lee’s been going overboard, buying a bunch of baby stuff for its room like an excited teenage girl at a Claire’s sale. I look at my bedside table, where dozens of baby care books pile high. I wish I could say those were mine, but no. Lee’s been reading them like a maniac, sharing all the important – and sometimes less-than-important – tidbits with me. He’s even been taking notes – a little gray notebook lays open on the bed, his neat handwriting scrawled across half the pages. I sigh and chuckle, shaking my head. Sometimes I think he’s more excited for the baby than I am.

The last I heard from Grace, Kiera was charged with not only possession of illegal drugs, but also attempted manslaughter. Morgan testified on the stand against her, and though I didn’t, Grace did as well. Felix was let off with a much more minor sentence as an accessory to the fact, and he’s spending a few months in jail versus Kiera’s ten years. It’s a harsh sentence, and sometimes I can barely believe it, but with a high-profile socialite family seemingly going down the drain, the media swarmed like flies. The sheer amount of coverage on the news guaranteed that if Kiera was going away, she’d go away hard, and for a while. Part of me feels guilty for it. The other part doesn’t at all.

But it’s not so bad. She’s not in jail, per say. Charlie’s too good of a lawyer for her to really go to jail. She’s in a psychiatric ward, instead, somewhere in northern California where celebrities go. Hopefully, she’ll get the help she needs there. That’s what I pray for anyway, every night.

I do a few stretches and go to my computer. I stare at the calendar just above it as the computer starts up. On the September page, the 29th is circled. That’s my due date, but the doctor gave me a window of anywhere in that week. When I first got the due date I thought it was so far away, but it’s only gotten closer and closer with increasing speed as the days pass. Time is, literally, flying by, and I’m half-excited and half-terrified. I know I’m ready. Or, I think I am. No one can actually be ready to have a small human being to care for, I think. But if I tell myself I’m ready, if I believe that with all my heart, I’ll definitely be fine. I’ll do fine. That’s what Mom says, anyway.

I open my email. Speak of the devil; Mom’s sent me four emails, all with weird cryptic titles like ‘For the one’, and ‘Good center’. She means well – she sends me links to child care websites and different doctors. She’s currently trying to convince me to see a hypnotist when I go into labor, but I’m a little skeptical. She’s still concerned I’m having the baby at home with a midwife – Lee’s aunt, an old Spanish woman who’s been birthing babies in the county for longer than any doctor at the nearby hospital’s been alive. Dad’s fine with it, as he always is – he trusts me and Lee’s judgment. Well, it was my idea to begin with, and Lee fought it every step of the way, but I managed to convince him a home birth was best for us. Peace and quiet. I want our baby to be born in the comfort of home, to feel safe from the second it comes out into the world.

I click the email from the hospital. I still go there for checkups, of course. I read the email quickly, and feel a smile tug at my lips. We haven’t asked what the gender is, because Lee wants it to be a surprise. But I couldn’t help myself – I had to know. I asked the doctor, and he sent ahead the email privately. I can still pretend to be surprised, but at least now I know what names to start considering seriously.

A warm hand wraps around my stomach and squeezes lightly. I jump, giving a little yelp, and behind me Lee laughs. I punch his arm.

“You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, sorry. Why are you even on this thing? Don’t you know exposure to the Internet in the womb causes infants to become huge nerds later in life?”

I hit him again, and this time he grabs my hand with his own and uses his other to pull my chin up, kissing me. I run my tongue over his, and he moans and backs up quickly.

“No. No, no, no – I’ve got to get to the pool before dark.”

“Please?” I pout. “Just a little?”

He sucks in a breath and leans in, kissing my ear. “As tempting as that proposition is, if I don’t get to the pool soon, Ricardo’s going to have my head. When I get home, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he says, grasping my hand and kissing it, too. “I made casserole – it’s in the oven keeping warm. Eat some when you can.”

“Some? We’ll eat the whole thing.” I pat my belly.

“I know you will,” he laughs and hangs on the doorframe. “That’s why I made two.”

I chuck a pencil at him, but he just laughs louder and ducks away. He’s picked up swimming again – competitively. And while he’s not exactly Olympic material, he’s still really, really good. He’s been talking about coaching the local kids at the pool for a while, now, and I hope he does.

“You’re going to be a good swimmer,” I say, and pat my belly. There’s a tiny kick in response. “C’mon, don’t be like that. The water’s not so scary when you get used to it.”

My phone buzzes. I turn the computer off, and look at the text from Riley. He’s nearly graduated, and I couldn’t be more proud of him. He’s not with his old girlfriend, but he is growing in different ways. He’s more mature, now, if that’s even possible. And now that he knows he’s going to be an uncle, he’s practically as bad as Lee with giving me detailed baby facts and checking up on me constantly.

Did you know the average infant sleeps a million hours a day?

There aren’t a million hours in a day, Rile.

Did you know a baby’s sense of time is warped? To them every second feels like a million hours.

Now you’re just shitting me.

What gave it away?

I laugh. It’s a long while before he texts again, and I’ve almost fallen asleep on the bed when he does. I look at the phone, groggily.

So? Boy or girl?

I told you, we don’t know yet. We won’t until it’s born.

You’re a terrible ass liar. Always have been. I know you’ve snuck a peek!

I’m not going to give in.

LOL. Fineeee, you don’t have to tell me what it is. But at least tell me what its middle name is.

I look out the window. The middle name is the one thing that’s already set – Morgan saw to that.

Morgan.

Aw, what! That’s a gender neutral name! C’mon, give me a better clue!

How can someone be so sneaky and so impatient at the same time? Can’t you just wait like everyone else?

Are you kidding? I’m gonna be an uncle! It’s an uncle’s duty to make sure their niece and/or nephew’s name doesn’t suck total butt!

I sigh and roll over. The baby gives a little squirm, and I breathe slowly to let it know it know I’m not actually stressed – just amazed. I’m amazed I have so many people who love me, who care about me. The people who were strangers a year ago are now the dearest friends I could ask for. A year ago I would’ve never thought I’d be starting my own family. A year ago I’d never have thought I’d be in love. But I am.

I’m in love.

That might change. Things might change, as they always do. A year from now could be totally different, but that’s how life works. It never stops. It always keeps moving, and that movement brought me the greatest happiness I’ve ever known. Things might change. They will change. I’m living proof of that. We all are.

But right now, I’m in love. And somehow I know that won’t change at all.

Sugar Sparkle In The Morning does another lap in the pen, running just under my window. She stops, looks through the glass dead at me, and whinnies, rearing back on her hind legs. She’s excited. So am I. Terrified, but excited without a doubt.

I hold my stomach with one hand and text with the other.

James.

I smile.

James Morgan Montenegro.

Acknowledgments

~To the community – you guys have been amazing. I could not have finished this book without your encouragement in the form of FB comments, notes, and tweets. You are all amazing, and thank you so much for welcoming me with such warm arms into the world of new adult and romance in general.

~To the reader; you are the reason I wrote this. Thank you for all your support, love, and time.

About the Author

Sara Wolf is the author of ARRANGED, a college-aged romance centered on an arranged marriage. She’s currently working on her next New Adult series. She’s addicted to the Vampire Diaries, loves chocolate and romantic angst, and can’t get enough of damaged heroes. For additional books, news, teasers, and giveaways, visit her at sarawolfbooks.blogspot.com or facebook.com/sara.wolf.3304

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine