The Broken Lake (22 page)

A few more silent words flew between us and Kerry and Dawn cleared their throats in a duet.

“Good,” Dawn said.

“Where’s the sugar?” I asked, really needing a rush.

On cue, the oven beeped and Wes moved over to take out six round mounds of perfection. The buttercream icing was flowing down the sides of each bun. I instantly felt warm and fuzzy.

Wes smiled. “We ought to get these more often.”

Rich joined us from the living room. “I’ll take the bacon. Meat is for men. Sugar is for girls.”

“I’ll take some sugar,” Jackson said, following him in. We all looked at him, trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean. Was he unafraid to show his feminine side, or simply mocking Rich? We decided he was mocking Rich.

“Did you beat him?” Kerry asked.

Jaskson smiled, but before he could answer, Rich cut him off. “I let him win.”

We all started laughing. Jackson’s chest was puffed out while Rich had a vertical crease plastered on his forehead.

Jackson patted his shoulder. “No worries, bro. We’ll play again later.”

“No, later we’ll play something we can all play at the same time.”

Kerry was so motherly all of a sudden. I couldn’t figure out where it came from, and I wondered how often she and Rich came up here to play house together. Whatever the answer was, it was a nice to see her so happy.

“Okay, everyone,” she continued. “Grab your plates. Feed yourself.”

Breakfast was great. I had my huge, warm glob of baked dough, dripping with icing, and a glass of milk. Everyone else had eggs, toast, and bacon. Then, for dessert, they picked away at the cinnamon buns. I was a stuffed turkey after I made a happy plate with mine. That was all I needed.

Afterward, we debated about hitting the slopes. I knew I couldn’t keep them away, so I just went along. Wes was eager to try it, and I had to trust that he would be fine. So we headed upstairs to pile on the layers.

We had spent many nights together, but never watched each other undress before. It was a tad awkward, so I went into the bathroom to change. When I came out, I caught him down to his boxers. I had seen them before when he was freezing to death and I had to strip him down to his underwear. I had also seen him in his swimming trunks before, but not like this.

In the other situations, I had done everything possible to keep my eyes off his physique, but this time, I stared.
OMG,
was all I thought, and then I felt my neck begin to twitch like Kerry’s had at the airport.

“You okay?” he asked, sliding one leg into a pair of long johns.

“Um.” I watched the muscles in his arms and chest flex as he pulled the pants up. “No, not really.”

He laughed, but I was serious.

Without looking at me, he grabbed his long-sleeved henley and turned around so his back was toward me. I could tell he was still smiling. His effort to shield me from his hotness didn’t work.

The muscles in his back were just as impressive as the ones in his front. Like the ripped guys at the fight club, Wes’ back also formed a perfect V. And when he reached his arms up to pull his shirt over his head… Every. Single. Muscle. Flexed.

I decided the only way to end the drool was to close my eyes. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when Wes saved me from Andy, and I was beginning to think it again. Everything was too perfect.

I wasn’t sure what I had done to deserve such perfection, and then I remembered. That’s right, as Amelia I had saved him from bleeding to death on a London street a hundred years ago. And who says being a good Samaritan doesn’t pay off? Not me. It pays back and then some.

Three layers of clothing later, Wes was ready to add his warming gear. It was actually pretty neat, and once he had them on, I began wishing I’d taken him up on his offer and bought some for myself. It’s one thing not to be a wimp about the cold when you’re not actually in it, but it’s another thing when Jack Frost actually shakes your hand. But I sucked it up and prepared myself in just a few layers and a nonheated down coat.

We drove down to where the road split, near the middle of the mountain, and headed over to the snow-covered slopes. Kerry and Rich had their own skis and went off to the lifts. The rest of us rented ours and headed off to the bunny slopes for some lessons. I thought Wes would stand out like a sore thumb, but he actually blended in perfectly. No one on the bunny slopes knew what they were doing, including Dawn and Jackson. All three of them looked like they were walking on glass, and everyone was bundled up like mummies.

I was having a great time watching them attempt to ski for the first time, and each of them looked so ridiculous that I wasn’t even fixated on Wes’ body temperature. It was the first time I’d seen him look uncoordinated, and it was hilarious. He was bundled up so much that I couldn’t see one centimeter of his skin; and, therefore, I wasn’t always prompted to wonder about his body temperature. He just looked like a warm, regular guy.

Surprisingly, Dawn and Jackson were the first ones to cave and ask to go back to the house. I hadn’t factored in the fun-in-the-sun couple not being able to handle Jack Frost. They actually saved me from having to sneak Wes out of there when they turned out to be the shameless wimps.

I called Kerry on her cell to see how much longer they were going to be, and she told me that visibility was getting low on the slopes and they had decided to quit too. So after about forty-five minutes in the bitter cold, we were all headed back to the warm house and Wes’ well-being was not what sparked the return. Today had been a success.

Back at the house, everyone took off their outer layers in the garage to keep from tracking tons of snow through the kitchen. When Wes started to take off his, I noticed him having a hard time unzipping himself with his gloves on. I offered to do it for him and he didn’t object. That was the first sign that told me he was having difficulty. I quickly unzipped his outer layer and put my hands on his chest. The fleece coat beneath was warm, which helped calm my worry.

Dawn and Kerry were throwing snow chunks from their shoes at Jackson and Rich and none of them noticed Wes’ weakness. They chased each other into the house, and I took advantage of the privacy.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He put his hand up to his mouth to pull his ski mask down, but his fingers weren’t cooperating. I pulled the hat off for him. His lips were turning blue and he was pale. Not pale like at the pier, but definitely pale.

“Wes! You promised.”

“I’m fine. Let’s just get inside.”

“You are not fine,” I hissed. “You can’t even undress yourself. Why didn’t you say something?” I yanked his heated gloves off and bent down to pull his boots off.

“Because I’m fine. My limbs are just a little numb.”

“And your face too?” I snapped. “Ugh.”

I wrapped his arm around me and walked him into the house. We looked as though we were just having a close moment, but my mission was to get him upstairs ASAP. He was still taking steps as if he was walking on glass, but this time I couldn’t attribute it to being on the slopes.

Luckily, the rest of the crew had disappeared into their bedrooms, so no one noticed us. Despite the difficulty, I helped him up the steps one by one. Once we reached the upstairs, I tried to sit him on the bed but he held firm, standing.

“You need to sit.”

He shook his head. “No, I need a warm shower.”

“Right.” I unfolded myself from his arm, slipped quickly into the bathroom, and started the water. When I came out, he was still standing in the same spot.

I knew he was suffering, yet he managed to appear as if he wasn’t. I didn’t even bother griping about it. I went over and guided him into the bathroom. The shower was running but his clothes were still on.

“I can take it from here,” he offered.

I was tempted to leave him alone, because I knew he was trying to release me from the awkwardness, but like before, the necessity of the situation took over—or maybe it was my hundred-year-old nursing instincts. Whatever it was, I wasn’t worried about boy-girl parts and who was seeing what. I just wanted him better.

“No, I’ll help you.”

I pulled his shirts over his head, one by one, until he was down to his bare chest. I quickly felt his chest with my good hand and the fingertips of my casted hand, and it wasn’t so bad. It was cool, but not icy.

It wasn’t until I moved his hands away when he tried to unbutton his own pants that I felt the chill. His hands were cool. I grabbed his wrists and felt all the way up his arms. They were freezing.

“I thought your coat was heated?”

“Just the torso part.”

I shook my head and yanked his pants down. By that point, my hand was pretty much healed. The cast was set to come off the following week, so I didn’t have to be gentle with it anymore, and now was no exception. I used my fingers to grip and tug at his pants legs. Once they were all the way down, he stiffly stepped out of the first layer and then I pulled the long johns off. That’s when I felt his thighs. Freezing cold.

“Oh, my gosh,” I mumbled half to him and to myself.

I pulled off his socks, being careful not to touch his feet, fearing if they felt chilly it would send me over the edge. All that was left was the boxers. I reached for them, but hesitated slightly.

He quickly picked up on my pause. “I really can take it from here,” he said softly. He was doing his very best to contain a smile and the color in his face was returning.

“Fine,” I said and turned around while he stripped down completely.

Once I heard him slide the shower glass open then closed, I turned back. His silhouette was visible through the foggy glass. He was standing completely still as the water spilled over him. After a few moments he began to move, dipping his shoulders into the water, one then the other, and turning around, giving each side of his body a chance to feel the warmth.

The bathroom wall had become my support as I leaned into it. More relaxed, but still concerned, I asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know. I felt fine. Really. It wasn’t until we started back that I noticed.” He paused, and after a few seconds added, “And I thought I could make it inside without worrying you.”

“That wasn’t the agreement, Wes. Be honest with me, remember?”

I watched him tilt his head forward into the water. “I didn’t feel bad, Sophie. Honestly.”

“Well, that’s it. We’re staying inside the rest of the time.” I crossed my arms firmly, whether he could see me or not.

He laughed, clearly beginning to feel better now. “That’s fine with me. I just wanted to try it once, just to say I did it. And I have to say it was fun.”

Visions of him and Jackson balancing themselves returned, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“See, you had fun too. Admit it.”

“Fine. I did, but we’re still not doing it again.”

He slid the shower door open just enough to peek out. “You look cold too. Want to come in?”

“You are so full of it. You’re just trying to distract me and it won’t work.”

He looked like I had accused him of the worst crime ever, but I wasn’t falling for it.

“Besides,” I added, “your clarity wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

And before he could bat those pretty browns at me, I left the bathroom, not even wondering if he was serious, but absolutely aware that he had accomplished his mission. He had made me forget how upset I was.

From the loft windows, I could see the snow picking up. Not necessarily in quantity, but in activity. There seemed to be the same amount of flakes falling, but now they were blowing in one direction. That meant cool air was coming in, and it now appeared to be more like a snowstorm and not just a snowfall.

I went ahead and turned the fireplace on and picked out some fresh clothes for myself. I needed a shower as well. It was after I’d picked out my own clothes that I realized Wes didn’t have any clean clothes in the bathroom. I thought about picking out some for him, but that would feel too strange.

Just as that thought was bouncing around in my head, he came out with a towel around his waist. Without even looking at him, I scooped up my clothes and brushed past him. Although I tried to contain my smile, it didn’t work. But I was able to contain the blush.

When I came out, he was lying across the bed in another pair of sweatpants and thermal shirt combination. He was on his stomach with his eyes closed, and I wondered if he needed some sort of recovery sleep. I gently sat down on the bed beside him, and one eye popped open. I guess not.

“Do you need sleep now?”

He smiled and closed his eye. “No, but I could use some food.”

I looked at the clock on the wall, and it was 11:30. “Do you want me to fix you something?”

He opened his eyes again. “No, you’ve already done enough for me for one day.”

“I don’t mind.”

He reached out his hand to me. Pulling me to lay beside him, he held onto me like a teddy bear. “I want to go with you, but I just want to rest a minute.”

And so we did. I lay on my back with his face nestled into my collarbone.

His breath was warming my neck in a slow, calm pattern. It was comfortable and soothing, and we lay there until he softly asked me if I was ready to go.

When we came downstairs, it was quiet and no one was to be found. Both bedroom doors were closed so we assumed they must be napping. It reminded me of spending the morning at the beach and everyone being wiped out once they got back.

With the kitchen clear, Wes and I made ourselves sandwiches and chips. I noticed him make two big ones for himself, which was a bit odd. It wasn’t until we sat down and began to eat that I realized he didn’t just want to eat, he
needed
to eat. He wasn’t shoving the sandwiches into his mouth or anything, but he was eating with serious concentration.

“You’re worried about your metabolism, aren’t you?”

He looked up without ceasing to chew. He swallowed slowly. “A little bit,” he admitted.

“It’s slows more when you’re cold?”

He nodded and started on his second sandwich.

“Do you want another one?” I asked, leaning across the table, willing to give him mine.