A Magical Christmas. Elizabeth Rolls

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      It was bitterly cold, and she snuggled deeper inside her jacket, her shoulder resting against his.

      How many times had they done this? Sat side by side watching the sun rise over the ridge, the light dazzling and dancing over the untouched surface of new snow, the ice crystals sparkling under the warm blue of the winter sky.

      As they skied off the lift and paused at the top, Tyler turned to her. “Glad you didn’t stay in bed?”

      “Yes. I love the way the forest feels after snow.” No possession, nothing she’d ever owned, could be this beautiful or give her the same kick of excitement as nature did when she shone light down on the mountains and forest. “This is perfect.” And being with him made it all the more perfect.

      It was because she was thinking about him and not concentrating that she caught an edge and landed flat on her back.

      “Oh, crap.”

      Laughing, he skied over to her. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you fall.” As she struggled to sit up, he reached into his pocket for his phone.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Savoring the moment. And gathering photographic evidence.”

      “Don’t you dare.”

      “I’m kidding.” Still laughing, he slipped the phone back into his pocket, reached out and hauled her to her feet.

      Her ski tangled with his, and he slid slightly and clamped her hard against him to stop them both falling.

      She rested her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, looking first at his jaw, then at his mouth and finally his eyes.

      Serious eyes, all suggestion of laughter gone. “All right?”

      “I’m good.”

      His gaze held hers for a moment, and then he released her, disentangled their skis and turned toward the trees.

      For him, the moment had passed but her mind, her memory, was full of moments like this. His name wasn’t just carved on a tree somewhere, it was carved in her heart.

      She stood still, watching him move fluidly through the deep snow. He made it look effortless and easy as only an expert could.

      It didn’t matter whether he was bombing from the top to the bottom in a World Cup downhill, floating through deep snow or arcing on groomers, he was the best. A supreme athlete, in tune with his surroundings. In a sport where the difference between winning and coming in second was the matter of a hundredth of a second, he had been right at the top of the game.

      She followed as he took a route through three feet of perfectly layered snow, instinct and local knowledge helping him find the perfect path through the deep powder. He was a skilled, aggressive skier, attacking the slopes with no visible signs of fear, regardless of the conditions. She heard him whoop as he executed a run of smooth, perfect turns, gliding through the snow with fluidity and rhythm. She followed as he swooped down into the glades, and they weaved through snow-sculpted trees, their branches misshapen and heavy from the weight of their winter load. The only sound was the whisper of skis and the soft thud of snow falling on snow as they wound their way through hardwood forest toward the main part of the resort.

      Eventually, he paused, and she stopped next to him in the clearing, her cheeks stinging from the cold, her breath clouding the air.

      “That was incredible.” The early morning sun danced across the surface of the new snow, and ice crystals sparkled like spilled sugar. High in the trees a pair of chickadees were singing, and the sky behind them was an unblemished blue.

      “It’s the best time of day.” He tugged off a glove and lifted his ski goggles. “It’s going to be a good one.”

      It had already started in the best possible way.

      “Thanks for asking me to join you. Most people would kill their neighbor for first tracks.”

      “Hey—” he turned his head and gave her a smile that connected straight to her knees “—I still made first tracks. You were behind me.”

      She pushed him but he didn’t budge, rock solid on his skis. “Next time, I’m going first.”

      “If you can catch me, you’re welcome to go first.”

      “Remember when we used to skip school and come up here?” She leaned on her ski pole. “We felt as if we owned the mountain.”

      “We did.”

      “And then they called my mom, and both our parents were hauled up to the school. Mom grounded me for the weekend. As we walked out of the school, she was telling me how I’d embarrassed her and all I heard was your dad asking you what the snow was like.”

      “I still remember the look your mom gave my dad. If she could, she would have buried him in a snowdrift. The O’Neils were never her favorite people. She thought Dad was irresponsible.” He stared straight ahead. “I guess a lot of people thought that. Still think that.”

      She felt the change in his mood. “He was a good man.”

      “He was a lousy businessman. He was trapped in a life he didn’t want, and instead of dealing with it he let a lot of people down. Hurt them.”

      “Does your mom ever talk about it?”

      “Never. She’s nothing but loyal. She loved him, faults and all.”

      “Isn’t that what love really is? Loving someone as they are. If you want someone to be different, how can that be love?” Brenna watched as a bird swooped between the branches, showering snow across the forest floor.

      They were alone in this wintery wilderness, wrapped by the cold and the endless white, with only the breathtaking beauty of the forest for company.

      “Without Jackson, she would have lost her home. So would Grams and Gramps. Sometimes it’s hard not to let the bad memories overtake the good.” His rough confession, his unusual admission of inner struggle, made Brenna catch her breath.

      Why was it that whenever he hurt, she hurt, too?

      It was his pain, and yet it felt like hers.

      It had been the same after his accident. The same after his father had died.

      Whatever he felt, she felt, as if they were connected by an invisible wire that transmitted his emotions straight into her with no filter.

      “I always think of your father when I’m skiing in the glades.” She chose her words carefully, hoping to heal not hurt. “We skied here so often. I can still hear his voice telling me to look at the gap between the trees, not the trees themselves.”

      “I think of him here, too.”

      Breaking her own rule, she put her hand on his arm. “There was so much good. He was fun. Adventurous, and he encouraged you to be adventurous. There wasn’t a single day when he wasn’t proud of you, when he didn’t encourage you. He was a skilled outdoorsman, and he saw those same skills in you. It was СКАЧАТЬ