CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN
LENA

God had to be punishing me for past-life sins—there was no other explanation for my current situation.

Ethan and I had both refused the couch, so we were stuck sharing a bed for the next two nights.

A real gentleman would've offered to sleep elsewhere. But Ethan? Not a gentleman. More like Satan's favorite son... who was currently watching me with narrowed eyes as I plotted my escape from skiing.

"You guys go ahead," I told Ava, deliberately ignoring Ethan’s suspicious look. "I just remembered I left something at the cabin."

"You sure? I can go with you."

"Nah. We already wasted enough time with the room mess. I might hang in the lodge for a bit." I gave a casual wave. "Go ahead. I’m fine."

Ava didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. "Okay. We’ll be here."

I didn’t breathe until she and Alex disappeared up the ski lift. Then anxiety crept in as I stared at the endless snow stretching in front of me.

It had been seven years since my last ski trip. That trip. The one that left scars and memories I worked hard to bury. And the tape—

Don’t think about it.

"What exactly did you forget at the cabin?" Ethan’s voice cut through my spiral. For someone eager to ski, he wasn’t in a rush.

Decked out in black pants, a fitted blue jacket, and goggles perched on his gray cap, he looked like every girl’s winter fantasy. A fact not lost on the group of women eyeing him nearby.

"My phone," I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets and gripping the phone hidden in the right one.

"You had it in your hand five minutes ago."

Damn. "Why are you so obsessed with what I left?" I snapped. "Shouldn't you be conquering your triple black diamond?"

Ethan tilted his head, gaze sharp. "Wait... do you even know how to ski?"

"Of course I do." His eyebrows inched higher. "Depending on your definition of know," I added reluctantly.

Max, my ex, taught me during that trip when I was eighteen. I hadn’t skied since.

The nerves churned, but I still managed to shoot Ethan a death glare when he burst out laughing.

I didn’t answer. I just turned and stomped off as best I could in clunky ski boots, snow puffing up behind me.

“C’mon, Lena. You love me, right?” Max had whispered back then, grinning as he squeezed my ass. “If you loved me, you’d do this—for me. For us.”

"It's just for security, babe. In case he tries to press charges."

"I swear, no one will ever see it."

Sweat slid down my spine as the memories crept back, but I shoved them into the mental box I’d sealed long ago. I’d lived through it once—no need for a replay.

"Wait up!" Ethan caught up, still laughing. Strangely, the sound helped shake off the lingering flashbacks—until his next words had me reconsidering homicide.

"You came all the way here, suited up, rented skis... and you can’t ski? Why didn’t you say something earlier? You could’ve taken lessons."

"I thought I could wing it." Not my best plan.

"You thought you could wing skiing?" His face was pure disbelief.

My cheeks flamed. "I changed my mind, obviously."

"Good thing, or you would've died out there." He finally stopped laughing, but the amusement still curled at his mouth, drawing out that damn dimple.

Something twisted in my stomach. It was the first time I'd seen Ethan genuinely smile—without sarcasm or venom—and it threw me off.

"I'll be in the lodge the rest of the day, so no death-by-skiing for me." I crossed my arms. "Maybe I’ll find a hot guy to teach me."

"Like the one you were eye-fucking in the lobby?" he asked, bone dry.

"Maybe." I didn’t acknowledge the eye-fucking part. He’d been weirdly focused on that random, flirty moment. The guy had been cute. Flirting wouldn’t kill me. Unlike skiing.

Ethan rubbed his jaw, looking like a damn snow-covered Calvin Klein ad. "I’ll teach you."

I blinked. "Right."

"I’m serious."

I waited for the punchline—that smug look, the mockery—but it didn’t come.

"Why?" My stomach did another weird swoop. "What about your precious triple black diamond?"

Him offering to teach me made no sense. He'd been raving about that slope all morning. Teaching me meant bunny hills and baby turns.

"I’m doing it because I’m a nice guy," Ethan said smoothly. "I love helping my sister’s friends."

Sure. And I’m the Queen of England.

"Besides, skiing’s skiing. Slope doesn’t matter."

"Pretty sure that’s not true," I muttered.

Even I knew bunny slopes weren’t exactly triple black diamonds.

Ethan sighed like he was preparing for battle. “Do you want to learn or not?”

I'll teach you how to ski, Max had once said, flashing a smile. Trust me. I won’t let you fall.

My chest tightened. I hated that Max still haunted me, even now. He belonged in the past, buried with all the pain he caused.

I hadn’t skied in seven years, and now I knew why. The memories cut too deep. Everything about skiing reminded me of him. But maybe it was time to overwrite the bad with something—anything—better.

I didn’t want Ethan’s help. But I needed it. When my mind spiraled like this, distractions were my only lifeline.

“Fine.” I rubbed my jacket sleeve between my fingers, grounding myself. “But if I die, I’ll haunt you forever.”

“Noted.” Ethan gestured toward the bunny slope. “Surprised you don’t know how to ski. Didn’t you grow up near Blue Mills?”

Blue Mills was Ohio’s most popular ski spot, and it wasn’t far from my hometown.

“My family wasn’t into skiing.” I fiddled with my jacket zipper, trying to burn off the energy crawling under my skin. “And we couldn’t afford it, even if we were.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. I instantly regretted it.

A frown tugged at Ethan’s brow.

He knew I’d gone to Thayer on a scholarship, but he—and everyone else—had no idea what those early years were really like. Or how much worse things had gotten after my mom married Alastair, the town’s wealthiest man. Money hadn’t made life easier. Just quieter.

“You don’t talk about your family much.” Ethan didn’t press. He also didn’t comment on the money part—a small mercy I hadn’t expected but appreciated.

“Nothing much to say.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Family is... family. You know how it is.”

His expression darkened. The dimple disappeared.

“I don’t think mine counts as normal.”

Right. His father had tried to kill his sister twice and was now locked away for life. Definitely not a typical upbringing.

Michael Hale had seemed so normal. But monsters rarely looked the part.

We walked in silence until we reached the bunny slope.

“Alright,” Ethan said, all business again. “Basics first. No way I’m letting you wipe out and traumatize some poor kid. Lucky for you, I’m a fantastic teacher. This’ll be quick.”

“Your modesty is overwhelming,” I deadpanned. “Okay, Mr. Fantastic, let’s see what you’ve got. And don’t forget—if I die, I’m haunting you.”

He clutched his chest like I’d wounded him. “JR, please. There are kids around. Keep your obsession with my ass to yourself until we’re back in our room.”

I mimed gagging. "Unless you want my vomit decorating your fancy ski suit, I suggest you stop talking and start teaching.

"I can't teach without talking, genius."

"Oh, shut up. You know what I mean."

After another few minutes of bickering, we strapped on our skis and got down to business. I wasn't a total novice, so I picked up the basics quickly. In theory, anyway.

I had the etiquette down pat, but we hit a tiny bump when Ethan ran me through a series of exercises designed to make me more comfortable on skis.

"Shit!" Frustration welled in my stomach when my ass hit the ground for what must've been the dozenth time.

I didn't remember it being so hard the first time around. I prided myself on being a fast learner, but we'd been at it for the better part of the morning and I'd only marginally improved.

"Let's try again."

To my surprise, Ethan had remained calm during our entire lesson, never yelling or teasing me for not picking up what eleven-year-olds around us were accomplishing so spectacularly. Every time I messed up, he repeated the same three words. Let's try again.

For the first time, I saw what he must be like in the emergency room: cool, level-headed, patient. It was strangely comforting, though I'd never admit it.

"I don't think I'm built for skiing." I pushed myself off the ground with a wince. "I propose we ditch the slopes for hot chocolate and people watching. We can guess who's here with their mistress and who'll be the first to hook up with a staff member."

The we slipped out without thinking. Since when did I voluntarily include Ethan in my activities? But people watching was no fun without someone to appreciate my insights, and since Ava was preoccupied, her brother was my only option.

Ethan walked toward me, his steps slow and precise, until he was so close I could smell the faint, delicious scent of his cologne.

I forced myself not to shift beneath the weight of his scrutiny.

"We could do that," he said. "But that would be quitting. Are you a quitter, Lena?"

My pulse jumped at the sound of my name in that low, slightly husky voice. Had it always sounded like that? It used to grate like nails on a chalkboard. Now it was...

Nope. Not going there.

“No.” I held his gaze, even as another bead of sweat slid down my spine like a spark. “I’m not.”

The implication that I was a quitter made my jaw clench.

“Good.” Ethan’s tone stayed calm. “Try again.”

And I did—over and over—until my muscles burned and fatigue weighed down every limb. But I wasn’t giving up. I’d survived worse than this. I needed to prove I could do it. Pride wouldn’t let me quit.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I nailed every exercise without falling. Ethan gave a small nod.

“Good job,” he said. “You picked it up faster than most.”

I squinted, searching for sarcasm. None. He actually meant it.

Huh.

We headed to the top of the bunny slope. Ethan pointed to a spot below.

“We’ll keep it simple,” he said. “I’ll wait there. Ski down and stop in front of me with the snowplow. Want a refresher?”

“I’m good.”

Nerves tangled with adrenaline as I watched him glide down and wave me forward.

Here goes nothing.

I inhaled deeply and pushed off. The rush of cold air, the glide of skis, the mountain beneath me—it was kind of exhilarating. Definitely not the nightmare I remembered from that weekend with Max. Maybe I could—

“Stop!”

Ethan’s voice snapped me out of my daze.

Shit.

I forced my skis into the snowplow position, but I’d picked up too much speed. Gravity did its thing.

“Fuck!”

I crashed into Ethan, knocking us both down in a tangled mess of limbs and flying snow. The impact stole my breath, and Ethan let out a loud grunt beneath me.

“What part of stop didn’t you get?” he growled, snow dusting his lashes.

“I tried,” I shot back. “It didn’t work.”

“Clearly.” He coughed. “Christ, I think you bruised my ribs.”

“Oh, stop. You’re fine.” Still, I glanced down to make sure nothing looked broken. His face wasn’t twisted in pain, so I figured he’d survive.

"You could've killed me."

I rolled my eyes. And people said I was a drama queen.

"It was a fall, Hale. You could've moved out of the way." "Somehow, I'm not surprised you're blaming me for something you did wrong. You're something else, JR.'

"Stop calling me JR." It was an inane argument to have while we were plastered together on the snow, but I was so freaking sick of that nickname. Every time I heard it, I lost a fraction of my sanity.

"Fine." The annoyance evaporated from Ethan's expression and gave way to lazy mischief. "You're something else, Red."

"Red. How creative," I said flatly. "I'm baffled by how you come up with such unique and totally not obvious nicknames."

"Didn't realize you spent so much time thinking about my nicknames for you." Ethan tugged on a lock of my hair, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. "And I'm not calling you Red because of your hair color. I'm calling you Red because you make me see red half the time. Plus, it rolls off the tongue better than JR."

My answering smile contained enough sugar to give him diabetes on the spot. "I can see how two syllables might be too much for your puny brain to handle."

"Babe, nothing about me is puny." Ethan lowered his hand and let it drift to my shoulder, where it lingered long enough to sear through layers of fabric and into my bones.

My breath caught in my throat. An unwitting mental image of his nothing flashed through my mind, and a hum of electricity surged through my blood, so swift and unexpected I lost my words.

For the first time in my life, I couldn't think of a single comeback.

Instead, I was suddenly, painfully aware of how close we were. I still lay on top of him from our fall, and our torsos pressed so tight against each other I could feel his heartbeat-fast, erratic, and completely at odds with his languorous drawl. The white plumes of our breaths mingled in the tiny distance between our faces, and a brief zing of surprise traveled through me at the sight.

Considering the tightness in my chest, I hadn't thought I was breathing at all.

Ethan's smile faded, but his hand remained on my shoulder-a whisper-light touch compared to his earlier hair tug, yet enough for me to feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

I licked my parched lips, and his eyes darkened before dipping to my mouth.

The hum of electricity transformed into a bolt of lightning, lighting me up from the inside.

I should get off him. I needed to get off him before my thoughts wandered down even more disturbing paths, but there was something so reassuring about the solid weight of his body beneath mine. He smelled like winter and heat all wrapped into one, and it was making me light-headed.

It's just the mountain air. Get yourself together.

"Lena," he said softly.

"Yeah?" The word stuck in my throat before it came out all wrong. Weird and raspy and not at all like my normal voice.

"On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want to fuck me right now?"

The moment shattered into a thousand pieces.

My skin flamed as I shoved myself off him, making sure to jab my elbow into his face as I did so.

"Negative one thousand," I hissed. "Times infinity."

Ethan's laugh erased any goodwill he'd accrued during our ski lessons.

I couldn't believe I thought he might be somewhat tolerable. One semi-decent morning didn't change the fact he was the same insufferable, cocky ass he'd always been.

The worst part was, he wasn't entirely wrong. There had been a moment, just the briefest one, when I'd imagined what his hands would feel like on my skin. What his mouth would taste like, whether he liked it long and slow or fast and hard.

A ball of angry embarrassment formed in my throat. Clearly, I needed to get laid, and fast, if I was fantasizing about freaking Ethan Hale.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much." Ethan pushed himself up, his mouth curved into a smug grin even as his eyes simmered with banked heat. The sight made me feel somewhat better.

At least I wasn't the only one affected by our proximity. "We can make it happen, you know. I'm no longer opposed to the idea. Our relationship is progressing."

"The only relationship we have is in your dreams." I yanked my cap off and ran a hand through my tousled hair. "We're done with lessons."

"Quitter." The soft mockery prickled against my skin, but I didn't take the bait again.

"I'm not quitting. I'm postponing." I jutted out my chin. "I'll sign up for real lessons with the resort tomorrow. Maybe I'll get the guy from the lobby as my instructor."

Blond hair, eager smile, muscled body. Lobby Guy might as well have Ski Bro stamped on his forehead. "I'm sure I'll actually enjoy my time with him."

Ethan's grin took on a hard edge. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Red."

Instead of responding, I turned on my heels and stormed away as gracefully as I could in skis. I should've taken them off before my grand exit, but it was too late now.

The dull ache of irritation throbbed in my stomach and intensified the closer I got to the lodge. God, I was an idiot. I should've known better than to-

Out of nowhere, the ache escalated into blinding pain. It ripped through me like a serrated blade and forced me to double over with a small gasp.

My pulse roared in my ears.

No. No, no, no.

It was too early. It wasn't supposed to happen until next week.

But when another spike of pain caused tears to form in my eyes, it was clear Mother Nature didn't give a damn about my schedules.

It was happening now, and there was nothing I could do about it.