Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
I try to pretend I’m focused on skiing and not on Lev looking like a kicked puppy, but it’s hard. He is the most talented, capable, funny, smart person I know.
His only crime is loving his father and brother too much. Letting his family control the narrative of his life. Kind of like how I let mine do to me.
I know Knight and Dean mean well. They’re good people, trying to look out for their own.
Dean is petrified of losing his sons, and Knight wants to compensate for years of putting his parents and brother through hell.
They’d both take a bullet for him in a heartbeat. Problem is, Lev is currently the one bleeding for them.
After a few warm-up sessions on the green trails, Uncle Vicious announces he and Emilia are taking the aerial tram to the pro trails.
The entire gang decides to join them. Last Christmas, Vicious bought his wife an unorthodox gift. Amongst the black, advanced skiing trails on the mountain, he bought a trail that belongs only to her. The Pink Trail. Pink to his black, I guess.
Everyone I know is a capable to an amazing skier, Lev included.
Over the years, when they were eagerly hitting the snowy mountains, I was busy curling up with a good book back in the mansion while on a break from competitive ballet—and that was pre-injury and pre-overdose.
So when I announce I’m sitting this one out, no one is surprised or suspects a thing.
“I’ll take Bailey home,” Lev volunteers, stepping forward.
“No, I can do it.” Daria flicks her ski glasses up, bundled in her huge, pink attire. “I’m sure you need some time off.”
“From her?” Lev slides his gaze over my body with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Never. Let’s go, Dove.”
“I saw the look you gave my daughter,” Dad calls out to our backs when we turn to take the main road back to the resort’s exit. “You’re supposed to be taking care of her, not taking fucking liberties.”
Lev’s jaw clenches. “She means more to me than her body.”
“Her body shouldn’t be something you even think about with what she’s going through.”
We make our way down the entrance, where Uncle Vicious’s driver awaits in an Escalade.
“Thanks for volunteering as tribute.” I elbow Lev, initiating contact so he’ll finally pounce and cover me with kisses.
“Yeah, course,” he replies tersely. He seems deep in thought.
I want to help him sort through whatever’s going on in his head, so I say, “You have to tackle your beef with Knight first, explain to him that your aspirations and life goals are a need, not a want, then break the news to your dad.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Lev shakes his head.
But I’m a problem solver. The one with all the answers. So I add, “Or you can skip the whole Knight routine and just go straight to—”
“Enough!” Lev snarls, halting his strides. “I said I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Hey, I’m just—”
“You’re just about the last person I’ll seek advice from, that’s who you are.”
Rolling my lips over my teeth, I keep my head down the remainder of our journey to the car.
The sting morphs into a full-blown burn. How dare he talk to me like this when all I tried to do was help? Somewhere in the back of my head, Old Bailey points out that Lev is still raw from the breakfast showdown.
But Current Bailey—the one still experiencing mood swings and withdrawal symptoms—demands constant reassurance.
Which is probably why I hear the next words leave my traitorous mouth: “You better break up with Thalia when we get back home.”
This was the wrong thing to say. Lev is no pushover. He resumes his steps toward the Escalade, which rolls into view in silhouette, with white-tipped mountains and wooden inns behind it.
“Or else what?” There’s a perilous edge to his voice.
But he is not the only one who is raw right now. If he wants a fight, I’ll give him one.
“Do you have a creative way to explain to her why you spent this trip volunteering your face as my rodeo horse?” I look away so he doesn’t see the red on my cheeks or the tears in my eyes.
Lev sneers. “Who says I’m gonna tell her?”
“If you won’t, I will,” I snap. If she means as little to him as he claims, why can’t he let her go?
Lev shrugs in my periphery. “I can fuck the entire zip code and Thalia would still say ‘thank you’ when I give her an STD for Valentine’s Day.”
Nausea hits the back of my throat. “Wow. You’re disgusting.”
“You’re the one who’s been fucking around with a taken man.”
Whoa. Someone needs to hold my earrings. “Who even are you?”
“I’m the product of too many expectations and not enough fucks to give,” he replies sourly, before adding, “This is not the start of something, Bailey. Not until you get your ass in a serious rehab program. I’m not gonna willingly chain my destiny to that of an addict.”