Winter Fire (Book I of the Winter Fire Series)

On the way home, my mother asked me about my day, but I could think of nothing but Bren…and Brianna. I didn’t know why it mattered, it was in the past, but some part of me hoped he would tell me it was a lie. And the fear of something else stirred in me as well. What if, in the light of day, after almost two days of homework and tacos and school, I looked at him and saw that it wasn’t true, that everything he told me and showed me was some fantasy we’d played out, or worse, that I’d invented it alone.

  We hadn’t made plans to meet at any specific time or place, so I ran up to the suite to drop off my backpack, then threw on my jacket and went down to the deck.

  The mountain wasn’t as crowded as it would have been in an hour or two, when the ski clubs arrived and the locals got out of work, so it was easy to check each rider, scan each yellow jacket for his hair, his stance, his expression. Finally, I caught him coasting down a green trail to my left, watching backward over his shoulder to monitor three kids making wide, slow s-turns behind him. He didn’t glance forward once, yet carved perfect, even curves for the kids to follow, his voice rising in encouraging tones, the sun catching his hair as they emerged from a tree lined narrow and descended toward the flats at base. He waited for all three of the boys to stop and unbuckle before he lifted his own board.

  “That was really good,” I heard him say. “You guys will be okay on the green trails by yourselves now.”

  Two of the boys said goodbye and started to head toward the lodge, but the third lingered. He stared up at Bren, his eyes wide, his arm slack around his board. Bren considered him, then hunkered down so they were eye to eye.

  “I know that no matter what I tell you,” Bren said, “I’m going to see you in places you shouldn’t be. So you’re going to promise me something.”

  The kid nodded, a broom of yellow bangs sweeping his brow.

  “Wear a helmet. All the time.” Bren tapped the kid’s helmet twice, the hollow thump just reaching my ears, then extended a black-gloved fist. The kid stared for a moment, then nodded again and bumped Bren’s fist with his own. When Bren rose and tilted his head toward the lodge, the kid turned reluctantly and began to tramp my way, an awed half-smile lighting his face.

  I knew how he felt, because in the next moment, as Bren lifted his eyes to me, I felt illuminated by him, singled out. He grinned and my body warmed even as a cold breeze blew back my coat. How could I have thought, even for a moment, that I had imagined it? In fact, I was astonished that not everyone could see him as I did now, brilliant as the sun on new snow, too bright to look at and too beautiful to ignore.

  He stared at me for another moment, then took a few steps forward. His motion prompting mine, I pried my hands from the rail, fluttered down the stairs and walked toward him, stopping a pace or two away to look into his face.

  “Hi.” He said.

  “Hi.” I said back.

  “Feels like it’s been forever.”

  I nodded. It had.

  He smiled and reached for my hand. “Then what are you doing over there?”

  I laced my fingers through his. He stepped closer, pulled me hard against him and kissed the top of my head. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face into his chest, inhaling his scent, my heart already crazy as his hand slid inside my jacket and around to the small of my back.

  “I missed you,” he said, his breath warm in my hair.

  “Me too.”

  He held me for a while, then pulled away and looked down into my face. I felt the doubt, the sense of unreality seeping in again and struggled for some words to anchor us.

  “How did things go? With your mother?” There. If it was all some strange delusion, I’d know in a second.

  He took in a long breath, held it for a moment, let it go. “Not sure,” he said. “It took a long time to get in touch with her. She seemed uneasy when we told her about the quakes, but she didn’t know anything. If something was happening, it would be strange for her not to know.”

  I nodded, relieved that I was not in a padded cell somewhere living this out in my head. “So what does that mean?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

  I felt the muscles in his back through the warm cotton of his shirt. As I let myself wonder what his skin felt like underneath, a sudden flash of Brianna’s hateful face surfaced in my mind. I closed my eyes to banish it. When it didn’t work, I glanced past Bren’s shoulder and let my vision blur into the white.

  “Hey,” he said, moving his hand to my chin.

  I swallowed, then dragged my eyes up to his.

  “What is it?” He asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Tell me.” He searched my face.

  I shook my head again, smiled. “It’s just been a really long day.”

  He stared at me for a few seconds, then smiled back. “Later, then.” He pulled off his gloves, stuffed them into his pockets and took my hand. “Come back to the apartment with me. That was my last group.”

  I followed him, registering the heat of his hand in mine, the sound of his breathing, the crunch of his boots on the snow - my own crunching lighter and faster beside him. As we crossed the wooden bridge, I hesitated, wondering who would be at his place, and what would happen if no one was. It was easy to want to be close to him with people around, but being alone might mean something more to him. Bren felt my hesitation and glanced at me. He slowed, allowing me to set our pace.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine,” I said too quickly. “Is Frieda here? I want to talk to her.”

  “Maybe.”

  I lingered. “Wouldn’t your ring tell you where she was?”

  He smiled. “That takes a little concentration. We don’t just use them to see if the bathroom’s free, you know?”

  “Hmm,” I said, meandering along.

  My pace was slower than cold molasses, but eventually, we reached the door. I couldn’t contain my sigh of relief when Bren opened it on Frieda and Dag, engaged in a butter knife fight over the kitchen table. Bren heard me and gave me a strange look, but I was already focused on Frieda, the guilt of not speaking to her on Saturday welling up as she stiffened, knife poised in the air.

  “Jenna,” she said. She tossed the knife onto the table. Dag lowered his and gingerly placed it next to hers. As his sleeve slid down his bicep, I caught the flash of a tattoo - a black dragon with red eyes - just before it disappeared under the hem. I wondered if Bren had ink anywhere.

  “Hey,” I said, hesitating for a moment. “I’m so sorry about Saturday. The way I acted.”

  She came around the table and peered at me. “You’re not mad at me? Bren told you what I did, right?”

  I nodded. “It’s okay. It’s over. Besides, you got Bren out of a lot of trouble. That fact that you got to kick Tyler was just a bonus.”

  She smiled a bright, eye-moist smile and curled her arms around my neck. I hugged her back, the end of her braid making my nose twitch. Dag grinned as I made faces to avoid scratching.

  “How was seeing Tyler at school?” Frieda asked as she pulled away. “Did he try to talk to you or anything?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bren step closer.

  I paused, considering how much to tell. “He said some things to Brianna - a girl I know,” I said, avoiding Bren’s gaze, “but that’s about it. I think he’ll leave me alone.”

  “Good.” Her expression changed back to worry. “And you’re…okay with us? I mean, with our…situation?” Dag was watching me closely.

  “I’m okay,” I sighed out the words. “I feel like I’m living in a video game, but whatever. I’ve had to adapt to a lot of things recently, so you caught me at a good time.”

  She smiled. “Well, at least we don’t have to lie about it. I’m glad you know.”

  “Me too.” I smiled back.

  Behind us, Val slipped in through the open door and strode straight to the closet in the hallway. Fishing around insi
de, he came up with his yellow jacket and turned to us as he shrugged into it.

  “Hi Jenna,” he said, his menthol eyes locking on mine. “How are you?”

  I realized that I had tensed up, ready to feel unwelcome. “Hi. I’m good, how are you?”

  “I’m well.” He nodded once, then asked, “Jenna, do you know why I wasn’t approached by Mr. Neil about what happened to Tyler? Tyler and his father were here on Saturday, weren’t they?”

  I felt Bren watching me with the others, but I couldn’t take my eyes from Val’s. There was no reason not to tell him the truth, especially after the trust they had placed in me.

  I cleared my throat. “I told Tyler that he had better rethink what he saw on the raceway, or I would tell what he did to me at the bonfire. Then I told his father and Mr. Neil that I was with you guys all morning in the terrain park, so it couldn’t have been you. Tyler backed me up.”

  The four of them stared at me for a long moment, then Val nodded. “You saved us a lot of grief,” he said. “But if you decide to talk to someone about what happened between you and Tyler - and I urge you to do that - we will all be fine. You understand that now, don’t you?”

  “I do,” I said. “But I’d rather leave it.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds, then nodded again. “It’s your call.” He looked from Frieda to Dag. “You two better get moving. Our shift starts in five minutes.”

  They gave each other comical, wide-eyed looks and scrambled around the corner toward the bedrooms. After a few seconds of rustling, the hiss of hair spray, and an invisible parade of stomping, they trampled back down the hall and pulled their jackets from the closet.

  “Later,” Dag said as he passed us.

  “Bye guys.” Frieda grabbed my arm on her way out. Val stepped over the threshold last, closing the door behind them.

  Their echoes lingered in the hall for a moment, then they were out on the snow, their footsteps fading with their voices. Bren stared at me in the new silence.

  “You didn’t tell me what happened with Tyler’s dad,” he said.

  “I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I still don’t.” But I felt the need to talk about something, or do something, to take the questions out of the air. Shifting back and forth in place was awkward, so I took a tentative step toward the living room. Bren’s hand shot out and grabbed mine, pulled me back.

  “Don’t you want to see my room?”

  “Uh.” I felt the urge to pull my hand away but he tightened his grasp, as if he had anticipated this.

  “What?” He asked, his brows knit together. It felt silly and pointless, trying to will my body to become as heavy as an anchor. When I didn’t answer, he tugged at me again. I let him lead me down the hall to the very last door on the right. He knocked and opened it.

  “I didn’t think Frey was here, but you never know,” he said, flipping on the light. “He sleeps a lot.”

  There were two twin beds under the windows on the left wall, one with the covers hastily pulled up, the other with a tangle of sheets in the middle. The blinds on the windows were closed, the surrounding walls hung with posters of rock bands - Led Zeppelin, Guns -N- Roses, The Doors. Beside the closet on the wall to our right stood a stereo system with a huge collection of CDs. I stepped over to them, away from the beds, and began to scan the titles. I saw everything from alt to techno to reggae to hip hop to rock. Some of it I recognized, but a lot of it I’d never heard of. I couldn’t tell which was old and which was new.

  “Wow,” I said, keeping my eyes focused on the tower of music. “Which stuff is yours?”

  “It’s all mixed up,” he said from close behind me. I jumped at the sound of his voice, then closed my eyes to steady myself.

  “Do you like any of it?” He asked.

  “I don’t recognize a lot of this. I guess my tastes are kind of shallow.”

  “There’s nothing shallow about you.” He reached up and tugged at the collar of my coat, and I let him slide it off and toss it onto Frey’s ravaged bed. Then he took his own coat off and threw it on top of mine. I turned back to the CDs.

  “You want to play one of those?”

  “Just looking.”

  I stood there for a long time, too long for him to believe that I hadn’t seen every CD in the stack.

  “Jenna?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  I dropped my gaze to the carpet, contemplating what to say. I assumed he was used to being alone in his bedroom with girls. Maybe they had all been grateful to be there. But I didn’t want to be one of them. I wasn’t one of them. And I felt a surge of anger that he didn’t know that.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever said ‘no’ to you?” I asked, my voice a little too hard.

  “What?” He tugged at my shoulder until I faced him.

  I folded my arms. “Has any girl ever said ‘no’ to you?”

  He stared for a moment. “What is this about?”

  “I just…I don’t know what you want.”

  “What I want?”

  “What you expect.”

  “I don’t -"

  “I mean, like now, we’re here and I don’t -"

  “I don’t expect anything. Jenna, I just -"

  “I just don’t want you to think -"

  “Think what?”

  I paused, then said, “That I’m like them. That I’m -"

  “Like who?”

  “Like her.”

  “Who?”

  “Brianna.”

  He stared.

  I sighed. “I don’t want you to think that I’m like her.”

  “Why would I think that? You have nothing in common.”

  “You.”

  “What?”

  “We have you in common.”

  “What?” He scrubbed at his hair.

  “You slept with her, didn’t you?”

  He froze with his hand on top of his head. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes and exhaled. “Did she tell you that today?”

  “I was hoping she was lying.”

  His jaw tightened. “Sweet girl.”

  “You must have thought so at some point.”

  “Don’t do that.” He opened his eyes. “It wasn’t like that. It didn’t mean anything.”

  “Did any of them?” I said to the carpet. “How many Briannas have there been?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Well?” I said.

  “Please don’t ask me that.”

  “That many?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t the same person then.”

  “You’re different now than you were a few weeks ago?”

  “Yes.”

  I lifted my arms and dropped them, looked up at him.

  “I’ve been different since the day I met you, Jenna,” he said. “That’s not my life anymore. So it doesn’t matter how many Briannas there were. What matters is that there’s only one you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  The idea of this somehow made everything else seem insignificant, which was exactly the kind of pitfall my mother was so determined that I avoid. Stepping around him, I went to his bed and dropped down, let my hands fall into my lap. He followed and sat beside me, careful to leave a space between us.

  “I don’t expect anything of you,” he said quietly.

  I looked at my hands, feeling stupid in the wake of my pettiness and insecurity. “This is exactly what she wanted."

  “Yep.” He reached over and wove his fingers into mine. When I glanced up at him, he smirked. “Please don’t let her ruin this.”

  At first I didn’t understand his expression, then I realized he was using my own words. It was what I had said about Tyler at Ringsaker. I laughed and pushed him backward. He pulled me down with him, wrapped his arms around me and looked into my eyes.

  “You know what?” He said.

  “What?”


  “I’d trade every single day I’ve lived for just one day with you.”

  “Every day you’ve lived on Earth?” I asked, baiting him.

  “Every day.” He said. “Ever.”

  Chapter 19