Page 2 of Ski You Later (Alpine Glow #1)

She’d get herself killed if not for me.

The January wind howls through my helmet as I finish the last gates of the course. The finish area approaches quickly, so I punch the empty air in front of me, and effectively stop the timing sensor early.

Letting my burning muscles finally have their reprieve, I turn my skis to the side and come to a stop below our course.

It was announced early this morning that we had lane space to train slalom, so everyone geared up for that discipline.

In slalom racing, we have guards that wrap around the bottom of our helmets, guards placed on our shins and guards that wrap around the handles of our poles.

For this discipline, the fastest way down the course is to come in direct contact with every gate, so proper protection is a must .

I reach up and adjust the pink guard that protects my chin as I make my way to the timing box clipped to the fence.

It’s just a small black cube with a screen, but it displays the time it took each athlete to complete the course.

The team radio is clipped beside the timing box, and I ask the coaches what I need to improve on for the next run.

They just repeat the same thing they always say about how I need to work on my body’s separation at the apex of the turn.

It would be lovely if they explained to me what that really meant, but apparently, they don’t care enough to help me anymore than providing me with open-ended advice.

Checking to see if my time was faster than last run, I mentally high five myself when I see that I shaved off a quarter of a second.

Even a hundredth of a second can mean the difference between first and second, so a whole quarter’s more than enough to have me walking on air.

Clipping the timing box back onto the fence, I make my way towards the chairlift.

Aurora and I were lapping the course with each other earlier in the day, but she’s always hyper focused during training and ditched me on the first run. Hell, if I was on a fast track to Team Canada, I would be doing the same .

The team managed to grab early lane space this weekend, meaning we get a couple hours of undisturbed training before the hill opens to the public. The flood lights help illuminate the dark mountain as I fly towards the chairlift and perform some practice turns.

Slalom involves turning fast and tight, so I continue to push myself as I make my way towards the lift. There’s a thin layer of ice on top of the groomed snow, and I marvel at the ease at which my skis slice through it on each turn.

Finally allowing my burning legs a rest, I crest the pitch and straight line towards the chairlift.

The sun’s starting to rise behind the mountains as I fly downwards, and I breathe in the peaceful atmosphere.

The beauty in front of me reminds me of my mom, which quickly sparks my memory and I scramble to pull out my phone.

Mom made it very clear she was going to call today, and I made it very clear I wasn’t training so she could call whenever. When my phone refuses to turn on because of the cold, I can’t help but groan into the wind.

The second her call goes to voicemail, she’ll know I’m at training, and then I’ll be in a world of trouble. Rhodes, you can’t keep jumping through hoops like this! They either book training or they don’t. This is just ridiculous! I mimic her voice to myself as I put my phone away.

Mindlessly adjusting my equipment to try and release some of my stress, I approach the chair lift and begin to ski into one of the entrance slots.

As I finish fixing my gloves, a strong grip clasps over my bicep, and yanks me away as a chair lift flies in front of my face.

Throwing myself backwards instinctively, the grip on my arm helps keep me steady and pulls me to the side.

“Rhodes, what the hell, you almost skied right into that thing!” Shock is still fresh in my brain as I look down at my arm. Following that grip to its source, I see Roman’s glaring down at me, and his face is a mask of anger as he keeps his hand wrapped around me.

“Where did you come from?” I can’t help but blurt out as I look around at the emptiness that surrounds us.

It’s not that I was ignoring his question, I just can’t believe I didn’t notice such a massive figure looming there.

He leans back against the chairlift slots and I take this time to I admire how his white and blue race suit hugs his impressive form.

The black helmet and chin guard match the curly hair I know is underneath.

But, since his goggles sit on the rim of his helmet, his glare hits me in full force .

That anger quickly fades to his classic impassive expression, and his face looks bored as he answers my question.

“I was waiting here for the coaches to come down, but then I saw you fixing your glove as you went to load the chair. I haven’t seen a university level athlete get taken out by a chairlift before, and I didn’t want that changing today.

” His voice betrays the anger he seems to have over the situation, with his tone sounding clipped as if he’s holding himself back.

I stare inquisitively at him; his obvious care for me causes confusion to roll around in my brain.

This immediately reminds me of what I thought last night, and I switch gears with this conversation. “Why’d you book training so last minute?” Crossing my arms and leaning my hip against the slot opposite of him, I force myself to look up and meet his gaze.

Whether it was my abrupt conversation change or the fact that I hit a nerve with my question, his eyes widen a fraction before he swiftly calms his features.

“I just booked it in the second the coaches told me about it,” he deadpans.

The way he avoids eye contact and shrugs his shoulder tells me everything I need to know.

“I knew it!” I yell happily as I stab my gloved finger into his chest, and his mild surprise turns to shock .

“What are you talking about,” his response sounding more confused than defensive.

“I just knew you wouldn’t do that if you didn’t have to, that’s all.” I put my hand up in the air and wait for him to give me a high five.

His face is set in an expression of bafflement as he looks at my hand and then back at me.

“Did that chairlift hit your head or something?” His tone isn’t kind but any means, but I know that my train of thought can be a lot for people sometimes and I chuckle.

The only ones that seem to keep up with me are my older brothers and Rora.

“Just, watch where you’re going from now on,” he mumbles. With one last confused look in my direction, he pushes himself forward to load the chairlift.

The day flies by, my rapid laps of the course cause me to cross paths with Liam, Charles, and Aurora, all at random times in the day. After a couple hours, the hill opened to the public and our once quick laps of the course turned into waiting ten minutes to load the chair.

I was hoping to cross paths with Liane or Rachel since either of the coaches could help me dissect my skiing more.

Then I could have a better idea on how to fix my issue in the course and apply it, but they always conveniently evade me.

The annoying reality of university coaches are that they tend to focus on the top athletes instead of the entire team.

It’s not as if we all had to pass a certain skill range to even make it on the team in the first place.

Little do they know that I’ve been pushing myself extra hard in the off season.

Building my body in the weight room and on the track, so I can try to make the top ten this season.

Our first race is less than a month away, and every bone in my body wants the coaches to regret not focusing on my skiing more.

The snow today has been holding surprisingly well, so I run into the lodge quickly and decide it’s another day of eating on the chairlift.

With a majority of the general public all eating inside at this time, I get an entire chair to myself as I pull out my food and fight the frostbite nipping at my fingers.

Of course, a buzzing starts to sound in my speed suit the second I take an abnormally large bite of my sandwich.

Happiness that my phone isn’t broken is immediately diminished by the person that is calling me.

Momma Bear staring back at me freezes my chewing jaw as I grapple with whether to answer the phone. I shouldn’t have told her training was cancelled, now she’ll be furious when she finds out I changed my plans last minute to come.

She’s the definition of a no-nonsense woman who doesn’t jump through hoops for anyone, let alone for coaches that don’t even give me proper feedback. I can taste the lecture as I click answer and put the phone to my ear.

“Hoi Moabma,” I say into the microphone. My sandwich-filled mouth doing my best to speak clearly.

“Rhodes, what’s wrong with you? Why would you answer the phone with your mouth full of food? That’s not lady-like at all!” I roll my eyes as she continues her tirade.

Leaning my head over the bar, I consider spitting my sandwich out onto the people below. If I saw Charles or Liam skiing below me, I might have, but instead I furiously chew my food.

With the highest pitch voice I can muster, I cut her off from her speech. “Hello darling mother, how are you doing on this fine day?”

Without acknowledging my sarcasm, she proceeds as if we just started the call. “I’m good sweetheart; I’ve just been spending a quiet day with dad. I was actually thinking that – wait, is that wind I hear? Are you training Rhodes Jayne Langley! ”

“Umm, no? I’m free skiing today. Obviously.” Forcing a chuckle between each sentence, and inwardly cringing at how fast she’s going to see through that.

“Rhodes,” she deadpans. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No,” I mutter back immediately.