Chapter Twenty-Three

Seventy-eight hours. A smidge over three days. It seemed like forever, though it was just long enough to have driven herself crazy with her mind-numbing tug-of-war.

You shouldn’t have sent him away.

You did the right thing.

You shouldn’t have sent him away.

You did the right thing.

Starr watched Matt joke with the Rescue Mission patrons as he cleared the tables and then shuttled dirty dishes to the kitchen. From across the banquet hall, Ryan gave her a thumbs-up. She moved to a currently empty table and began re-wiping it, her mind stuck in the same loop as the past three days, like a rodent on a wheel.

She’d forced herself not to peek through the cottage blinds that day, at least not until she’d heard the Uber driver pull up. When she stormed off, had he followed her to the door? Considered knocking on it? Had she expected him to? Of course not.

She checked her phone for the umpteenth time. No missed calls, no new texts. Dammit.

She scrubbed at a stubborn stain on the plastic banquet table. Had she been too hard on him? No. She didn’t want someone fixing things for her behind her back, like he knew better. He’d essentially forced MogulMania to take her back. How humiliating. So yeah, she’d refused the position Spencer had greased. The irony was, she probably wouldn’t have before this week.

Spencer had shown her there was more—so much more. She didn’t have to settle. She could be who she wanted. That also meant she could be with who she wanted—and it wouldn’t be Spencer. She was sure. She’d move on…as soon as those blue-gray eyes stopped haunting her.

She helped Ryan, Matt, and the other volunteers clean up after the last patrons left, sidestepping an awkward almost-request for a date from Ryan.

“You did a fantastic job tonight,” she said to Matt as they piled into her Jetta an hour later and headed back to the Family Shelter.

“Thanks. Did you see the watch Spencer gave me?” He held out his arm to her, all proud-like.

She glanced his way and checked out the watch before focusing back on the road. “Wow. Nice.”

“When’s he coming back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe never.”

“Think he’ll call?”

You have a better chance of getting a call than I do. She shrugged, a lump forming in her throat.

“Are you scared he won’t?”

“I’m afraid of lots of things,” she said, trying to make light of the question. “That doesn’t make the top twenty.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“What does?”

She readied her list of spiders and roaches and anything with more than four legs. A coward’s response. She was done being a coward. “Skiing.” The words came out easier than expected, like ripping off a Band-Aid, a short-lived sting followed by long-lived relief.

He shot her a surprised look. “I thought you liked to ski.”

“I did. I do.” I think. In fact, she’d thought a lot about it since Spencer had left, but hadn’t quite gathered the courage to try again.

“I remember how scared I was, dangling way up there on the ski lift. There’s not even seat belts.”

Starr laughed. “Nope, no seat belts. But there’s that bar you can pull down.”

“I guess.” He shrugged.

“Next winter, you’re going to take lessons. It’s like riding a bike. All of the stuff you learned before will come back. Trust me.”

“Even if I wanted to, and I’m not saying I do, we can’t afford it.”

“That might be true in other cities, but not Reno. Remember that program we went to, Snow Bear Cavern? You can go back there.”

“I was just a kid last time. What if I get up to the top of the mountain and I’m too afraid to go down?”

A tightness spread through her stomach and pushed into her chest. Matt was too young to think that way. “Don’t say that. You’re stronger than a little ole mountain.”

He looked over at her, surprised. She had to admit, he wasn’t the only one. How ironic that she could lecture others to be strong when she couldn’t even stand on snow. Yet.

“But we’ll see,” she said. “Maybe I’ll come with you again.” She waited, half-expecting her tonsils to stretch past her tongue and grab back those last few words. They didn’t, nor did her stomach retch at the thought of putting herself in snow.

Hours later she lay in bed, her empty bed, thinking about Matt and snow and MogulMania and Spencer—and wondering where all of it left her. For months she’d been battling who she was. Like Daddy, who’d battled for years and still hadn’t given up. Why should she? Before Spencer’s bonehead moves, he’d convinced her that she could do anything. But had she really needed Spencer for that? No, and she didn’t need to conquer a mountain or a company or save a delinquent teen, either, though she had no plans to give up the latter. Self-worth came from within; she knew that from all of Daddy’s church sermons she’d sat through growing up.

Maybe she was meant to do more with her life than speed down mountains for trophies, but that didn’t mean she should give up on skiing altogether. And she wouldn’t. Not because she shouldn’t, but because she didn’t want to.

So, she’d conquer that mountain—not because she had to prove something. But because it would be a heck of a lot of fun.

…

Thursday morning, Starr stood at the edge of the blacktop and looked out to the mountain. Last time, with Spencer, he’d— No, stop. This moment wasn’t about him. He already monopolized every free moment of her thoughts—awake and asleep—the entire week. He’d even shared her shower this morning. But right now, this moment was for her. Just her.

Skis over her shoulder, she stepped onto the packed snow, right foot then left foot. Rinse, repeat. The snow crunched under her ski boots, and the chilly air swirled with wayward flakes that caught on her waterproof non-MogulMania gloves and wool scarf. Hard to imagine that less than an hour away, she’d been wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and her brother was debating about when to turn on the flower garden sprinklers to welcome spring.

Right, left. Right, left.

She kept her eyes trained on the Wizard, the small lift that would take her halfway up the mountain and give her a choice of several green runs to take down. The closer she got to the lift, the faster she felt her heart beat. She could do this.

Right, left. Right, left.

Just before the lift’s loading area, she dropped her skis to the ground and snapped in. The mountain loomed before her, but she focused on her boots, her skis, her poles. One step at a time. Get on the lift. She flexed her quivering knees and breathed deep—once, twice, and then pushed off, gliding to the gate and ski-stepping through.

The guy manning the lift was about her age, his long, brown hair pulled back in a messy hippie-ish ponytail. He gave her a what’s-up nod and motioned her forward. Go. She let herself glide forward, and before she could reconsider, the seat tapped the back of her leg and scooped her up, up, up. She was on the lift.

She sat with her back straight and stiff, her body cruising high above the snowy terrain. Icy flakes hit her cheek, sending tremors of panic through her body. She clutched the edge of the seat with her left hand. She could pull down the bar, a move that would require her to both let go of the seat and shift her body to reach the bar. She stayed put and breathed. In, out. Almost there.

The chair arrived at the unloading station, and she stood and, in perfect form, let her skis carry her down the small ramp. The move came naturally, and before she knew it, she was poised at the top of a run. Sweat trickled down her back, and somewhere in her subconscious, a trickle of fear leaked in. No, she wouldn’t let it stop her. She pushed off.

Her legs shook as she glided down the small hill, and the panic she’d chased away on the ski lift cloaked her shoulders, threatening to smother her. She forced her brain to focus on her technique, her form, her mind barreling back to her earliest lessons: skis straight like French fries, eyes forward, arms bent at the elbow, hands holding a tray of hot chocolate. Careful, don’t spill the hot chocolate.

Dear God, she was skiing. She relaxed her shoulders and flexed her knees, the wind sweeping across her face like she was flying. A familiar feeling of equilibrium settled in as she swept down the small hill, her muscles shaking but her body in perfect form.

She moved from green to blue to black, her confidence increasing with each trail’s difficulty. In the end, she came back to the easy-peasy green runs with rolling hills and wide-open terrain. She skied a lazy S-curve, negotiating around first-timers, from toddlers to adults, and soaked in their enthusiasm, their awe in moving on skis at turtle speed.

She’d forgotten how peaceful the mountain could be, meandering instead of racing.

It was the sort of peace she could get used to.

Hours later, she walked back to her car, a lilt in her step despite the weight of her skis over her shoulder. After dumping her skis in the trunk of her Jetta and changing into a pair of tennis shoes, she settled into the front seat and, phone in hand, scrolled through her contacts to S. She had to call Spencer and tell him how she’d—

Her finger froze over his name. Don’t. Tap. It.

She couldn’t call him, not after how she’d sent him away. Frustration, hot and heavy, churned in her chest. She missed him, all of him—his arrogant answers, his stupid smirk. The way he’d look at her and she’d feel it down to her toenails. The way he touched her and kissed her and made love to her.

Today she’d done it. She’d conquered her mountain. And he was the only one she wanted to tell. She’d been a fool to send him away.

She sucked in a shaky breath, knowing what she had to do. And she’d need some help. She dialed a familiar number.

“I skied today, Destiny,” Starr said, when her best friend answered the phone. “Several runs, all the way up to black. I did it!”

“Starr, that’s fantastic! You should’ve told me. I would’ve gone with you.”

Starr nodded, appreciating the support she knew was always there. “I know, but I needed to do this myself. And I did.”

“I’m so proud of you.” She could hear Destiny’s smile through the phone.

“There’s something else I need to do.”

A beat of silence passed. “Okay.”

“I can’t get him out of my mind. I think of him when I’m feeding the chickens, when I’m washing my hair, when I’m sitting at a stoplight. He’s everywhere—he’s even at the kitchen table when I’m eating cereal with JJ.” The words spewed out of her mouth, and her chest lifted, as if free from the weight of her futile denial. “I need to go after Spencer.”

“Well, it’s about time you came to your senses.”

“W…what?”

“He feels the same way.”

“How do you… Did he tell you that? He called you?” How could Destiny have kept such vital information from her?

Destiny sighed. “Yes, he’s called, but no, he hasn’t told me. But every time he does call, I can hear it in his voice.”

Every time, as in more than once. “Why is he calling you?”

“He’s setting up a trust for Matt and his mother, and…”

“So, he throws some money at it, and the problem is solved.” Just like he tried with MogulMania. She squeezed the car gearshift with her free hand.

“It’s not his money,” Destiny said quietly. “Well, maybe some of it is, but he’s taking donations, reaching out to clients and stuff. He’s only been at it a few days, but he’s got a knack for it and a lot of clients.”

“Sounds like he’s…doing a great thing,” Starr said, regretting her snide money comment. She knew there was more to Spencer than money. Much more. Her frustration was with herself. She’d pushed Spencer away without considering his side or trying to understand his motivations. She’d jumped to the worst conclusion and then shut him out. Still, she hadn’t expected him to keep in touch with her best friend. “Why’s he calling you?”

“He asked me to find the Millards a new place to live that the trust would cover until they’re on their feet. I’m also looking into work programs that Matt’s mom would qualify for so she wouldn’t have to work double shifts at that hole-in-the-wall diner.”

Wow.

“Yeah,” Destiny said. “I know what you’re thinking: wow.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She sighed. “I would’ve sooner or later. I’ve been dying to. But he asked me not to. He didn’t want you to think he was trying to manipulate you. I didn’t agree at first, but I’m glad I listened to him.”

“And why’s that?”

“You figured out what you want on your own. Now go get him.”