Chapter Fourteen

As soon as they started up Austin’s truck, Sam pressed her fingertips to the heat vents to warm her hands. She didn’t know how she felt about everything Austin had said, but at least she better understood where he was coming from. She was probably supposed to be thinking through how she could use that to convince him to sell, by showing him what wouldn’t change and reassuring him of the measures Kane Enterprises was taking.

But mostly she was thinking how refreshing it was to talk to someone so passionate. So principled. Someone with more on his mind than the numbers in the latest contract or how he was going to look with Sam on his arm.

She was also thinking about how cold she was. The trip had been worth it, but damn did she need a hot shower and some of that cocoa Austin had brought her on the first day they met.

She needed that massage he’d been talking about, too. She was sore from skiing, hiking, fucking. Clenching to hold on. She was thrilled when they got back to Austin’s and he called to make an appointment with his friend Claire for that afternoon.

“So she’s good?” Sam asked as she took off her wet boots and tossed them by the door. “Will she take out my knots and not judge me for my horrible posture from hunching over the computer all day?”

Austin laughed. “Yes to the knots, but I can’t promise anything about judgment. She’s the nicest person you’ll ever meet, though. Quieter than Mack, so don’t worry, you’ll be able to relax.”

Sam stripped off her ski pants, jacket, and hat. “Should I have feelings about the nicest person I’ve ever met running her hands all over you every week?”

Austin backtracked from the kitchen, where he’d been getting food for Chloe, and put his arms around her. “Jealous, much?”

Sam let out a noise from the back of her throat, neither a yes nor a no. “Just curious.”

Austin kissed her on each eyelid. She liked the brush of his scruff, the way he went for these small, sweet gestures to show he could touch her without it being 100 percent about getting in her pants. Although she was still waiting for that. The whole ride back she’d been hot and throbbing between her thighs, and now she hooked a leg around him. He ran a hand up her thigh, supporting her firmly under the ass.

“Claire is extremely professional,” he said.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“And what is your question?” He bit her bottom lip.

Sam wasn’t sure. Whether there was anything going on with Claire? Or whether she was in a position to know if there was anything going on with Claire to begin with?

She knew this was dangerous territory—she was supposed to be worrying about the sale she had to lock down, not whether she and Austin had a future. But when she pulled away, she caught sight of the bag with the gloves she’d bought him still sitting by the door and something clicked into place.

“Is that why you won’t take the gloves?” she asked suddenly. “Because we’re not…” She looked for the word but came up empty.

“Not what?” Austin prodded.

Sam shook her head. “Not whatever it is that we aren’t.”

Austin followed her gaze to the door and frowned. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“But it’s a fair question.”

“What are we, in court? What are you trying to ask?”

“How come you’re gorgeous and funny and driven and hot as hell and have all these female friends you’ve mentioned, like Mack and Abbi and Claire, but apparently aren’t sleeping with them?” she blurted out.

That hadn’t been what she’d planned on saying. She wasn’t sure what she’d planned on saying. Here’s why you need to sell to the Kanes would have been a good start. Why couldn’t she just do her job?

Austin wiped a hand over his mouth, but it didn’t hide how red his face was. Was he laughing at her? Not single at all? Had he slept with every single one of his friends?

“Shit,” Sam muttered when he didn’t say anything. He had. He totally had.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said quickly, reaching for her. But she stepped away.

“What am I thinking.” It wasn’t a question. Her voice stayed flat.

He ducked his head. “You’re thinking I sleep with everybody. You’re thinking they’re not really my friends. Trust me, Sam, there’s nothing going on. I admit that Claire and I tried to make it work once, but it wasn’t in the cards for us. It wasn’t in the cards with any of them. It’s a small town, and when I came here I needed friends more than lovers. I just—” His hands dropped by his side. “I wasn’t ready to commit.”

Sam wasn’t sure how to respond. That wasn’t what she’d been expecting him to say. That wasn’t even what she was looking for. Who said anything about commitment?

And yet, just how many lovers had he meant?

“So what are you looking for now?” she asked.

Austin looked at her plainly, more naked to her than when she’d seen him without clothes. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

She wished she hadn’t said a thing. Why weren’t they having sex now? Why hadn’t he rushed her inside to tear her clothes off in front of the fire like last night? Why was this coming out wrong?

“I don’t know why I asked that. That’s not even something I’m worried about. Please, pretend I didn’t say anything.” Sam picked up the gloves from the floor and handed them to Austin. “And take the goddamn gloves.” She cracked a smile. “If that’s why you wouldn’t take them, I’m telling you it’s not a gesture that means anything. It’s just me trying to beat out Claire for nicest person in the world.”

Austin took the gloves and put them back by the door. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. But I still can’t.”

“But why not?” Sam was getting annoyed. “Your old gloves are falling apart, don’t pretend nobody notices.”

It was the exact wrong thing to say. His jaw tightened in anger. “I don’t care whether anybody notices. This isn’t about what people will think of me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re twisting my words.”

“You think what I have is shit, you think you have something better.”

“They’re just gloves, Austin. It’s not a referendum on your fucking personality.” She hadn’t meant to curse, but he was being ridiculous. Her first instinct was to feel like she shouldn’t have brought anything up, but that was bullshit. She had every right to ask who Claire was, who his friends were, and why Austin said and did the things he did. For the sake of her company—and also for herself.

But it hurt when he turned his back to her as though he couldn’t even look at her when he said, “They’re not just gloves.”

“What?” Sam took a step toward him, her socks landing right in a puddle of melted snow. Could this get any worse? She honestly thought she hadn’t heard him, but he turned and repeated it.

“They’re not just gloves, okay? I know it sounds stupid to you. I don’t expect you to understand and that’s why I didn’t say anything before. But since you won’t let it go, they were a present from my uncle when I was accepted onto the U.S. Ski Team. You have this loving family and a father who clearly did everything for you and now you know I have nothing, okay? I have one pair of gloves that tells me somebody once gave a shit about me and I don’t need you acting like I should throw that away.”

He stormed off to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water and noisily drinking it down without offering any to her.

Sam stayed in the doorway and tried to think fast. “Austin, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that and I wasn’t trying to take anything away from you. I just wanted to do something nice.”

She’d never seen his face look anything but gorgeous, but now he scowled, a hard, mean line to his mouth that made her recoil. Who was he? What was inside him that she didn’t know? She couldn’t begin to guess, but it was pissing her off that he wouldn’t come out and tell her. How was she supposed to know the gloves were some sentimental thing? Why was she supposed to think he’d be anything but thrilled to have someone give him a new pair?

But it was obvious what was broken inside him. As soon as she asked herself the question, she knew.

“I’m sorry you fell, Austin,” she said quietly. He looked at her from across the room, confusion etched on his brow.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice was cracked, defeated.

“I’m sorry that happened. I’m sorry you didn’t get to go to the Olympics. I can’t imagine the pain.” She took a deep breath before he could interject and kept going. “But accidents happen. You said it yourself. You said it to Amelia, too. Hell, you even said it to me. Falling is how you know that you’re pushing yourself, that you’re learning. You told me you knew what you were getting into, that you accepted the consequences of engaging in a risky sport. Don’t tell me that wasn’t true.”

Don’t tell me you’re not who I think you are, a voice inside her pleaded. Just another man who seemed like good news until you found out the ways he was broken inside.

Unfair, another voice countered. She was being so unfair.

But Austin was looking at her as though he’d never seen her before. Chloe’s ears perked up, and the way the two of them stood there staring her down—Sam had never felt so unwelcome in all her life.

“Jesus Christ,” Austin muttered, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Am I wrong?”

“It wasn’t a fucking accident, Sam. Do you hear me? You keep saying I fell, but I’ve never once told you that. You just assumed, like you assume I want new gloves, or that Amelia can’t hack it, or that this Kane development is going to be so rosy for everyone so why don’t I join in the fun. Does it ever occur to you to consider someone else’s point of view? Someone who actually knows what they’re living through?”

“I never—”

“I didn’t fall,” he said over her, loudly, and then again, “I didn’t fall.”

Sam stared at him. She didn’t understand.

“Do you really want to know why I have these scars? Why I can’t ski like I used to? Why I’m holed up here in the woods instead of a professional skier in Colorado, where I grew up, where I spent my entire life being coached by, led by, groomed by the world’s best to be one of them?”

Sam stood there mutely. This was supposed to be fun, casual, a few nights of whatever it was before they both went back to their lives—a life in which she became the new owner of half his land. Not until now had she fully understood how serious this was, and how much more than just the sale she stood to lose.

Because here he was, spilling what he obviously didn’t want to say and she didn’t want to listen to, and it wasn’t casual, it wasn’t easy, it wasn’t the kind of thing she could up and leave. She’d grown attached. She’d grown to care too much about him.

“What happened?” she whispered.

Austin’s eyes were steely and hard. “My dad was beating on my mom because that’s what he did, you know? No, wait.” He shook his head. “I’d bet a million dollars you don’t know. To you, that’s what happens in movies, on TV. To those poor people who aren’t fortunate enough to be you. But that’s what he did, because he felt like it. Because he could. He was normally a belt kind of guy, but we were leaving through the garage and that’s why he grabbed a hammer from the toolbox.”

Sam’s lips went numb. Her legs wouldn’t move, no matter how much she wanted to cross the distance and lay her head on his chest.

Austin looked at a spot on the floor in front of her feet and continued as if in a trance.

“She was supposed to come stay with me in Park City. Imagine me taking my mom to the Olympics to watch me race. It was the proudest moment of my life. Not just that I was skiing, but that she would see.

“But she never showed up. My uncle couldn’t get her to budge, my coach, no one. So I went back to get her and my dad, he just…” Austin ran a hand over his lips. “He was convinced she was leaving him, that I was coming to take her away for good.” He laughed, a throttled, angry sound. “Who knows, maybe if I could have gotten her out of that house to go anywhere besides the grocery store, I would have. But I never got that far. He was going to kill her, Sam. I swear to God that was going to be the time when he finally killed my mother. So I stepped in.”

Austin’s eyes shot up and held her gaze, and now it was Sam who had to be strong and not look away even though his words were a weight around her neck, pulling her eyes to the floor, to her feet, her wet sock clinging to her toes.

“You saw the scars. Didn’t you wonder why they’re not in any kind of order? It’s not just from surgery, Sam. Those are scars from the hammer. He didn’t stop swinging until I’d passed out on the ground.”

“Austin,” Sam choked, but he waved his arm, dismissing her in a way that nobody did. Not when they knew they were in front of a Kane.

“He knew what was expected of me at the Olympics. There I was, nineteen years old, with a real chance to make something of myself. And if I did, I wouldn’t be coming back to his shitty house in his shitty town to take his shitty abuse anymore. It’s not just that he didn’t want me to ski again. He didn’t want me to be able to walk.”

Sam felt her phone vibrate in her pocket with a text message. She couldn’t think about work right now. Her stomach hurt. Her saliva was thick as paste. She wanted to tell Austin how sorry she was, how she’d never meant to assume.

She wanted to tell him, too, not to be angry with her. He’d let her go on believing one version of events when he could have corrected her at any point. So why was he yelling like this was her fault?

But she was in no position to talk to him about honesty. Hadn’t she done the same thing, putting forward one version of herself, keeping the ugly truths safely out of view? Before she could open her mouth, her phone vibrated again. This time, it didn’t stop—not a text message, but a call.

She silenced it without seeing who it was. She didn’t want Austin thinking she always put her job first, attached to that phone like it was a third person forever in the room. But he frowned, like he thought it anyway.

Before he could open his mouth, his home phone started to ring, the sudden noise cutting through the silence between them. It rang three, four, five times, then clicked over to voicemail, or else the person hung up.

Sam was about to say something—to try to break the tension by commenting what a strange coincidence that was—when Austin’s cell phone started ringing. It was set to “Ode to Joy” and was way too loud, sitting on a table by the door where he must have left it when they’d gone out.

For a second neither of them moved. Then Austin went past her to pick up the phone. He looked at it for a second, and Sam got the feeling he didn’t recognize the number. She thought he’d ignore it—didn’t he say he barely used the thing? But it was too much of a coincidence, those calls to them both in a row. He flipped it open and said hello.

Sam was completely outside herself. It was as though she was standing on the sidewalk and watching a stranger’s house burn down, not realizing it was her own house, her own life, being sent up in flames. But of course she knew. From somewhere in the back of her mind, the wolf, the bitch, snidely asked how long she’d expected to keep up this charade.

Austin frowned, looked away, and said, “How did you get my number?”

Before he could hear the answer, she plucked the phone out of his hands. “Steven, it’s Sam. Tell the board to cool it. I’ll call you back.”

She hung up the phone, handed it to Austin, and steeled herself to face what she had done.