Page 10 of Avalanche (Endless Winter #3)
That is what Seth would say, if he was here. He’d smile around at us all and say we were family. And he’d mean it too. Not the type of family that imposes ultimatums, that pushes you into a box framed of their ideas of what you ought to be, then cuts you loose when you grow into something else.
A real family.
I glance at Liam and Matty hopefully, silently begging them to find the words to explain what we are, the six of us.
More than friends. Certainly, more than roommates.
Lovers, I guess, but that doesn’t describe the bond that has been growing between us all, even before I first stole that drunken kiss from Eddie on those ice coated steps.
That was growing well before Liam and Antoine pressed me between them in the hot tub.
“You guys mean the world to me.” My gaze drops to the table, as if I can see the words I’ve just spoken scattered across the scratched wood, glaringly clichéd.
Y ou mean the world to me. What does that even mean? And no one ever really means it, do they? No one really loves anyone as much as their entire world, at least not when they say that. It’s the sort of exaggerated statement people throw around like you’re the best or I’d kill for a piece of cake .
Except I do mean it.
I almost lost these guys on that mountain that day. It could have been them buried in the snow. For a few excruciating hours, I’d felt my entire world crumbling, peeling away like ice and rock from that mountainside and I knew . I knew I would never, ever recover from losing them.
Because I’m in love with them.
Not the light sort of love that dances like champagne bubbles on the edge of a glass, beautiful but quick to dissipate. Sweet on the lips and then gone.
No, this is the etched-in-your-bones sort of love, heavy and dangerous. Because it has the capacity to rip everything apart.
I swallow, burnt pancake and maple syrup still lingering on my tongue.
“Thank you.” Antoine reaches across the table to take my hand, just like I took his earlier.
I dare a glance up at him, only to be hit with a look that reaches deep behind my ribs, making my breath stutter. That look, it says everything that my ineloquent words couldn’t.
I see you , it seems to say.
By the time we finish breakfast, the winter sun has burnt away the lingering fog and is streaming in through a grime-streaked window, offering a lackluster sort of warmth to the already overheated condo.
Antoine and I do the dishes, both of us silent as we stand shoulder-to-shoulder at the sink, me washing and him drying.
I don’t mention going out to train again. I probably should. Should be making the most of this rare day off to keep pushing toward my goal. But I am tired, even if I won’t ever admit it to Liam. And more than that, the thought of leaving Antoine on a day like today… it just seems wrong.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. My stomach swoops just like it always does when I get a text, my mind racing through what ifs and maybe nows and things will be different , before invariably settling on the disappointment of reality.
The vibration is quickly followed by nearly simultaneous pings, and the discomfort morphs into a more comfortable sort of anticipation when I realize it must be Seth or Eddie on our group chat.
“Hah.” Liam barks out a laugh from the living room, where he and Matty are settled on the couch in front of the TV, watching some overly chipper weekday morning news program. “Sucker couldn’t backline after all.” Our phones ping again and Liam lets out another laugh.
“Oh man, he’s pissed,” Liam announces, sounding delighted. “Positively fuming.”
“Poor Eddie,” Matty chuckles, but he doesn’t sound particularly sorry either.
“What did he say?” I call out from the kitchen, my hands deep in soapy water, my phone vibrating in my back pocket.
Eddie’s texts are some of my favorites. He barely messages in our group chat, but when he does it’s a flurry of sharp wit and cutting comments that have my sides aching with laughter.
Liam and Matty just laugh in response. Antoine and I share a look of annoyance before Antoine throws the dish towel on the counter and pulls out his own phone.
“He says,” Antoine clears his throat, his cheek twitching with amusement as he stares at his phone. “‘ Bastards at ski school are making me work, fucking bitches. Someone needs to form a union ? — ’”
“He knows trying to form a union is grounds for immediate termination,” Liam calls out from the living room, frustration evident in his voice. “He shouldn’t even be texting that shit.”
Antoine rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s worrying, then continues: “‘— Someone needs to form a union, because these working conditions sure as shit aren’t legal. Fuckers gave me a class with twenty kids. One of them pissed his pants in the first half hour. Waited until at the top of the mountain, had to ski all the way back with my entire class .’”
The group chat pings again, and the small smile that’s been curving Antoine’s lips widens, revealing a flash of white teeth and a dimple in one cheek.
“What?” I urge, my soap covered hands halfheartedly scrubbing at the pan Liam used to burn our pancakes. It’s a futile effort. “What did he say?”
Antoine’s eyes flit up to mine, dancing with mirth. The sight has my chest squeezing, and I drop the pan in the sink. He’s so pretty like that, even if the bright happiness flashing through him is as fleeting as the warmth from the winter sun.
How would it be to see him like that all the time? To have that smile come easily, to see the carefully masked worry slip away?
“He says: ‘ If I find out you guys have been having a fuck-fest all day ? — ’”
“A fuck-fest,” I squeak, frantically turning my attention back to the dishes piled in the sink. “What?!” My cheeks burn, the heat of my embarrassment rising alongside soapy steam.
I think of what it must have looked like when he left this morning, when the three of us had been piled up together in my bed.
“‘ —I’m going to lose my shit. Will probably complain to Seth’s mum about it when we talk to her this evening. Just so you’re warned. ’”
I shake my head, setting the mostly clean frying pan in the drying rack, not daring to look up at Antoine to see his response. The phone pings again, and this time Antoine reads it without my asking.
“This one is from Seth,” he explains, laughter dancing in his voice. “He says: ‘ Please, please don’t mention sex to my mum. She was already on my case about having grand-babies. It’s weird, and I’d rather not have that conversation with her again. Thx. ’”
“Jesus,” Liam wheezes from the other room, and I’m not sure if it’s laughter or terror I can hear in his voice. “I’d forgotten we were having that call tonight.” There’s a bewildered sounding pause, and then: “Can you believe he told his parents about all of us?”
I shake my head in silent response. No. No, I can’t. I can’t imagine being able to tell my parents about all of us, even if they were talking to me.
Irritation rises as my thoughts snag on them again. On that unanswered string of text messages. All I had wanted was to tell them about Tom. To tell them what had happened. To ask them what I should do.
Now, I just want to stop thinking about them.
“Do you guys want to go into town?” I ask abruptly, setting the last of the dishes in the drying rack. “To Main Street, I mean.” I wipe my hands on Antoine’s dish towel and turn to give him a hopeful smile. “We could look at some shops, maybe go to a cafe.”
“Main Street’s full of tourists,” Liam gripes. “Just a bunch of art galleries and designer clothing shops. It’d probably cost you twenty bucks just to get a coffee.”
Matty mumbles out something in agreement. I glare at them—or rather, at the wall of beer cans that now almost completely shields the living room from view—then turn to share an exasperated look with Antoine.
“Some people like art,” Antoine dutifully points out. “Not all of us are completely uncultured, you know.”
“And Main Street’s cute,” I add. “There’s all the Christmas lights, decorations…”
“I thought kiwis loved expensive coffee.” Antoine grins at me mischievously, green eyes dancing. “Isn’t that the backbone of your culture?”
“Well, it is sunny outside,” Matty says thoughtfully, when Liam only offers an annoyed huff in response to Antoine’s ribbing. “I guess a walk would be nice.”
There’s the sound of our couch creaking ominously, then the padding of feet across carpet, and then Matty appears in the kitchen doorway, a sheepish smile dimpling one cheek.
“I don’t mind going for a coffee, if you want.” He looks between me and Antoine, a flush rising before he drops his gaze to the floor. “It’d be my treat.”