Page 36 of Avalanche (Endless Winter #3)

“Again,” he says when I come back to my heel-side edge. “It’ll usually take a few times for a student to get it,” he explains. “They’ll need to feel the difference, feel what it’s like to do it right before they know how to move their body.”

We turn again, and again. Liam increases the pressure with each turn, guiding my left arm in, bringing my left shoulder into alignment.

Meanwhile, the world behind him blurs and spins, flashes of pine and snow and sky and the plummeting base of the mountain beneath us swirling, like we’re two figures in the middle of a kaleidoscope.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on my fingertips. His eyes bore into mine, dark beneath the lenses, my own face reflecting back at me in the sun-sparkled reflection on his goggles. “Relax, and follow me.”

My breaths are coming fast now. Perhaps it’s the exertion of riding, for going for a run for the first time in days, after hours spent sitting and waiting in the hospital. Whatever it is, I feel like I’ve hiked to ten-thousand feet altitude.

I do what he says, letting my shoulder drop, letting my body relax. Following the gentle pressure of his hand, the rhythm that he’s setting in my turns, hypnotised by the feel of his eyes on me and the world flashing and spinning behind him.

“That’s it,” he purrs, and I feel those words in my very core, the warmth of them almost molten in contrast to the icy air. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

It does. I feel the second it changes, the second my alignment adjusts and that edge hooks in on the turn. I feel the rightness of it, a stark contrast after all the wrong.

“Yes,” I breathe, finishing the turn.

We’re near the base of the run now, at the edge near the shadowy shelter of pines. But I can’t seem to take my eyes off him, can’t seem to move away. His hold on my fingers never falters. The air between us feels charged, electric.

Liam brings us to a stop beneath the trees, close enough that I can smell pine sap and dripping snow. When the loss of momentum makes it hard to keep standing, I sink down into the pillowy snow drifts. Liam drops to his knees in front of me, close enough that his hands end up resting on my board.

“This,” I tell him breathlessly, “is why I train with Tessa and not you.”

I look pointedly at where his hands rest on my board, gloved fingertips brushing my snow caked boots.

My heart is pounding, my cheeks flushed with more than just cold air and exertion.

I know he can see it. Know he can see the way he’s affecting me, how each of his little touches and looks sends want coursing through my blood like fire.

Beside us, the trees offer their dark invitation. I imagine what it would be like to unclip our boards and wander in between the snow-laden boughs, to find a hidden spot amid the drifts and pine needles.

Liam’s lips curve into an unapologetic smile, his gaze following mine to the trees.

“Well,” I ask breathlessly, attempting to bring this back to training. “How did I do?”

“You’re a good student.” His gaze drifts back to meet my own and he lifts his goggles up to his helmet. “I can see why Tessa likes teaching you.”

He reaches back to unclip his board, kicking it free and putting it bindings-down in the drifts beside the trees. When he holds one hand out to me and gives my own board a pointed look, my belly swoops, a breathless dizziness turning the snow around us even whiter in my vision.

“We’ve got a few minutes before we have to be at post for the one o’clock lessons.” His licks his lips, the faintest hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “I could show you a few more things if you want.”

“In the trees?” I keep my voice light, full of mock ignorance. Like I don’t know what he’s asking. Like I’m not desperate for it too.

He gives a one shouldered shrug, a teasing smile that flashes white for the briefest of moments.

“You seem like an experienced student. I bet you’re good in the trees.

” His eyes narrow in laughter, but it seems aimed at himself more than anyone else.

Like he’s not quite sure about this game that we’re playing.

Is it a game? I’m not quite sure.

His smile falters when I unclip my board, then rise to stand and drop my board alongside his in the snow.

He takes my hand, his breath making wordless puffs that cloud between us, his throat bobbing.

He steps forward, closing the distance between us, the brim of his helmet knocking lightly against my own as he brushes the faintest of kisses against my lips.

His lips are cold, his nose too, but his breath is warm. Sweet.

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry, my throat inexplicably tight.

Skis scrape the snow several feet away from us, but neither of us look away. Still, the sound is a reminder that we’re still out in the open, both of us in our instructor’s uniforms, our lips only inches apart.

Liam steps back, a flush painting the tops of his cheekbones as he turns towards the trees, pulling me behind him.

“You’ll probably pass the exam, you know,” he says, huffing slightly as he clambers through a particularly deep pocket of powder. “You could take it at the start of the southern hemisphere season and probably pass.”

“Probably,” I echo.

Probably is good, I guess. It’s better than I was at the start of the season, when I’d barely been able to get certified to teach at this mountain. When I’d been one of the worst in the class.

“Like, eighty percent?” He throws me a glance over his shoulder. “Maybe more. It’s a hard exam, but I think you’d nail it.”

I nod, my lungs tightening as I make my way through thigh deep powder, winding between the sap covered trees. I guess that’s about as good as I could expect, all things considered. It’s not bad odds.

But it’s not perfect, either. There’s still a risk. A chance that I could fly all the way to New Zealand, fail the first exam, and be out of work for months until I could sit the second one.

I let out a sigh, the sound swallowed up by the trees.

We’re deep in the forest now, far enough that the groomed slopes are completely invisible and even the scraping of skis and murmur of voices is muted. Above us, blue sky peeks through thin slits of deep green and white, sunlight dappling the snow in little patches beneath a velvet canopy.

“That’s not bad, you know.” Liam pulls me to a fallen aspen, the smooth trunk arching above the snow drifts, only slightly damp from melted snow.

He guides me to sit, coming to stand between my spread knees, his gloved hands on my thighs.

“You’ll probably pass, but if you don’t, you can just take the next exam. It’s not a huge deal.”

I blink up at him, frowning. Not a huge deal? He knows how hard I’ve been training for this all season. How much I want this.

“But if I don’t pass?” I rasp. “What am I supposed to do then? I need to work, Liam.”

My gaze drops to his chest, to the little gold name tag on his jacket. Liam Sutherland. Wanaka, New Zealand .

The first time I ever heard of Wanaka was when I met him.

When Liam was just my aloof instructor and Wanaka was no more than a word printed across his name badge.

Now, it’s my future. Still unknown and unexperienced, but I’ve imagined it so frequently that I can taste it—a life with all five of these guys. A home. A future.

And that life involves me passing the instructor’s exam and working.

“We’ll take care of you.”

My gaze snaps up, meeting Liam’s with a gasp.

He gives me a bemused grin. “I’m not talking about living off Antoine’s money. We don’t even know if it’s going to come through or not, and anyway, that’s his. No, I mean all of us. You’ve got five boyfriends, Lily. We’re all going to be working. Or at least most of us will be…”

He trails off, frowning, gaze going momentarily distant. I wonder if he’s thinking of Seth. Sweet, sweet Seth who will be finally coming home this afternoon. Who is going to be off work for weeks, at the very least. Maybe longer.

“If we can’t support you, if we can’t support each other, then what the fuck are we even doing?”

I shake my head, brow pinching. It doesn’t seem right, relying on any of these guys for money, asking them to pay my way while I train. Not when they’re all struggling just as much as I am, when we can barely afford rent with the six of us as it is.

“I couldn’t…”

“Of course you can. And you will. We’re a team, the six of us.

You’re my partner.” He scrunches up his nose, then adds: “I guess they all are, in a weird way. I mean, Antoine obviously. But the rest of them too. Seth…” He clears his throat.

“They all mean a lot to me. What we have, this whole thing. It’s not what I’d ever have chosen for myself.

But now that I have it, I can’t imagine life any other way.

” He bends down, bringing his face level with my own. “I can’t imagine life without you.”

My breath hitches, the world suddenly seeming unsteady beneath me. I reach out, grasping the sides of Liam’s coat in an effort to steady myself.

“I can’t imagine life without you either.”

My words are whisper soft, like snowflakes settling between us. Those other words seem to drift between us too, unspoken. I can taste them on my tongue, remember the feel of them, but I don’t dare say them. Not yet. Not again.

I don’t think I could bear to hear the answering silence again.

“Does that mean you’ll let me take care of you?” Liam lifts one brow in challenge. “Let me be your back-up plan, if you don’t pass straight away? Or, your safety net, if you’d rather think of it that way.” He quirks a smile. “Since you’re determined to pass on the first round.”

A safety net.

There’s something incredibly tempting about that. Trusting another person to have my back. Knowing that it’s not just me against the world.

“Only if you let me be yours,” I concede, my cheeks aching with cold as I smile despite myself.

“Deal,” he whispers.