Page 21 of Playing Dirty

Which is why I end up shoving down the errant thought and simply mutter, “Uh, no. Just…thanks. For breakfast.”

Any spark that was left in his eyes extinguishes immediately, and his shoulder lifts in a half-hearted shrug.

“Don’t mention it.”

Thanks to frigid temperatures and windy conditions encroaching over most of New England, the runs are relatively empty when I head out ontothe mountain. I don’t mind it, though. I spend the better part of the day enjoying the cool air and fresh powder in blissful seclusion.

Mostly,that is.

Surprisingly, I catch Madden on the ski lift twice, the two of us riding up in awkward silence before going our separate ways at the top. And while those moments are fleeting at best, it serves as a reminder for me to check if there’s another room available when I head back in for the day.

I’ve been at it for a few hours by the time I decide to make my way to some of the more difficult runs, hitting one of the longer black diamonds off near the edge of the resort. The trail runs through the woods, merging with one of the more popular blue squares about halfway to the bottom.

And it’s at that point, right when I break out of the trees, when some kid comes flying out of nowhere from behind, cutting me off without warning. I do my best to swerve and avoid him, but the sudden, jerky movement causes the front of my board to clip the snow. And the unfortunate end result is me tumbling what feels like a hundred yards down the mountain, only stopping when I finally crash land in some powder off to the left of the trail.

Pain radiates from my shoulder as I roll to my back. The crash leaves me disoriented and a bit breathless, and I’m still catching my breath when a dark shadow appears over me.

“Fuck, Theo. Are you okay?”

My eyes adjust enough to find Madden, of all people, kneeling off to my side. He’s in the process of unclipping me from my board and spearing it into the snow beside his own when he notices me watching him.

“Are you okay?” he asks again.

My shoulder is killing me, and there’s a good chance I’ll be sporting some nasty bruises tomorrow, but otherwise, I feel fine. Nothing some iceand pain relievers won’t fix.

“Mhmm,” I mumble, still doing my best to regain my bearings.

Madden’s brows are knit in concern when he sees the effort it takes to push my goggles off my face, and he pulls out his phone. “You sure? It looked like you landed on your head.”

“It was more shoulder than anything, I think.” I wince in pain before asking, “Were you the one who took me out?”

A frown appears when he glances down at me. “What? No, it was some idiot kid. I didn’t even know it was you until I got over here.”

His phone is up to his ear a few seconds later, and a flare of annoyance runs through me.

“Who are you calling?”

He ignores me rather than answering, and when I make a move to sit up, his palm lands flat on my chest. “Would you stop being an insufferable dick and hold still?”

“You’re the one keeping me embedded in a snowbank, butI’mthe dick?” I growl under my breath. Not that he would’ve heard it anyway, he’s too busy rambling off the situation to whoever is on the other end of the phone.

It’s only when he gives them the trail and our location that I realize what he’s doing, and it sends a shot of heat to my stomach before it slowly creeps into my bloodstream.

“Ski patrol? Really?” I hiss when he hangs up. “You called fuckingski patrol?”

If he’s put off by my irritation, he doesn’t show it. He simply pockets his phone and shrugs. “Someone needs to check you out, just in case. They’ll be here in less than five, but they said to keep your helmet on and try not to move your neck too much in the meantime.”

“Why? I told you, I’m fine.”

To prove the point, I make another attempt to get up, but it’s met with the same result: his palm pressed firmly against my chest.

“Theo, can you justwait?” he chides. His eyes soften, taking on an imploring look before adding, “Please?”

For some reason, that one word gives me pause. Enough to slump back into the snow and let out a disgruntled huff while I stare up at the sky above me. I know he’s right. I’m just really annoyed about it—and the fact that he’s watched me make a fool of myselftwicetoday.

“Thank you,” he says softly, pulling my gaze back to him.

I hadn’t realized he’d gotten closer while he was on the phone, but now that some of my adrenaline and aggravation have faded, I can’tnotnotice. He’s leaning toward me, our faces only a couple feet apart, while his hand still rests on my chest.