Page 2 of Delta

"Goddammit! Killy! Slow the hell down!" I shout.

I glance at Cutter and Kazinsky. "Well?” I gesture after Killian. “Go get him! He breaks a leg, it's on you two."

They both respond with muffled "Yes ma'am's" and bolt down the mountain after my brother, who, despite his nerves, is blasting almost straight down, only kicking out to arrest his momentum here and there.

"Fuck," I mutter. "The little shit is gonna get himself paralyzed."

I totally ignore my guys and take off down the mountain after the boys at a more responsible pace, making long, lazy esses back and forth across the width of the run.

I breathe easier on the way down—with my guards behind me, this is as free as I'll get. I blast past a slower-moving couple, kick my heels out to carve right around a long curve, and then settle back on my heels, poles tucked, as I swish a short, shallow series of slaloms.

Faster.

Faster.

Put all the boiling emotions down in their box and just enjoy the ride—-it's a perfect day, cold and clear, sunny and crisp. For a few minutes, I can pretend everything is normal.

There are no guards watching my every move with hawkish intensity.

The parents don't freak out if I miss a check-in by five fucking minutes, even though I’m a legit grown-ass adult.

And most of all, in this brief, pleasant fantasy, Zero is still alive, waiting for me at the bottom wearing that stupid hat he loved so much—the one that made him look like a six-foot-five, lanky, black-haired version of Pippi Longstocking.

Alas, the run to the bottom is over all too soon. I cut hard at the last second and skid to a stop by the boys, spraying them both with a fine cloud of snow.

Killian, who had just removed his helmet, brushes his hair out. "Nice, Brynnie, thanks."

"You're welcome," I tell him, grinning. "You made it down in one piece."

He grins. "Sure did. Forgot how fuckin' fun skiing is. You guys ready to head back up?"

Cal steps on the release of his board to free his feet, scoops it up under his arm. "Been ready. Let's fuckin' go, slowpokes!"

That's Cal for you—first on the skycar and first off; first down the hill, first to the big waves back home. He's a daredevil, an adrenaline junkie. He loves anything that's reckless, fast, dangerous, or otherwise borderline psychotic. Uncle Val and Auntie Key hate it, but he's always careful and hasn't had any major accidents, and he's been putting in a lot of hours with Uncle Val, taking Rinny's place as his right-hand man, now that Rinny and Apollo are busy running Valkyrie.

On the ride up the mountain, I find myself missing my best friend. In the past, this trip would have been a foursome—the big sisters and the younger brothers…the way it's always been from the day we were born.

But now she's married and pregnant, and busier than ever, especially since Valkyrie went into business with Hunter Hawkins. And god, I'm jealous of Rinny for getting to meet that man. Talk about fine—the man is sex on a stick. I swear to Holy Moses I'd sell an ovary for five fucking minutes alone with him. Alas, he's happily encumbered with some lucky-as-fuck Alaskan bitch. And please understand that I'm only calling her a bitch because I'm green with jealousy. I bet he fucks like a god.

I let out a sigh. I miss Zero so damn bad, some days. Most days. Every day. All day.

All night.

I miss his messy black hair. I miss his green eyes and the way they sparkled greedily when he slid down to bury his face between my thighs. I miss the way he kissed me—all tongue and teeth, as if he was trying to actually eat me. I miss the way he'd roll over the moment he was conscious and nuzzle me and try to kiss me with his nasty-ass morning breath.

I miss his laugh.

I miss his cock.

I miss the music of him.

Okay, that's enough. I allow myself five to ten minutes a day to wallow in missing him, and then I force all that sorrow and anger into a cage, lock it, and put the cage back down in the depths of myself.

Does it work? Not really. Does it help a little? Sort of.

Mostly, I'm just a mess.

My phone buzzes, which is deeply annoying, since it means I have to take off my glove, unzip my jacket, dig down into the cavernous interior pocket where I keep it, and haul it out.