Page 37 of Take What Hurts

“Um,” she started, rubbing at the grease spot now. “My ex, in answer to both of your questions. I already knew how to ski a bit from when I was growing up. My mom brought me a couple of times. Complete disaster, but a story for another day.” She huffed mirthlessly. “But yeah, Reilly and I would come a lot of weekends, and she was happy to teach me for a while, then I guess she got frustrated, so I took a few lessons with the ski school. When we’d ski together, she’d be pretty critical and would ask me what the ski school was teaching me. Told me I was wasting my time with it.” Mackenzie’s face heated. “I didn’t come as much after we broke up.”

Mackenzie didn’t elaborate. There had been a great deal of tears and despair, and not a great deal of leaving the house except to go to work. But she wouldn’t tell Elliott that part yet. She wanted to bask in the glow of Elliott’s praise for just a bit longer before it inevitably all came crashing down once Elliott was privy to that part of Mackenzie’s life.

Elliott peered into Mackenzie’s face. When Mackenzie refused to meet her gaze, Elliott’s mittened hand touched her chin, lightly lifting Mackenzie’s face so Elliott could see her eyes. Elliott’s warm eyes were wide and tender and full of something Mackenzie couldn’t place. But if she had to guess, she’d say it was indignation.

“I’m sorry. Reilly sounds like she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. In fact, I can say for a fact that she doesn’t,” she finished, dropping her hand into her lap.

The loss was like severing a limb. She forced out a smile. “Yeah. I mean, I ski pretty slow⁠—”

“—and that is not the same as skiing badly,” Elliott cut in. “You ski at a pace you’re comfortable with, and besides, who wants to fly by the seat of their pants all day? It’s much more enjoyable skiing around with someone whose company you enjoy.” Elliott smiled so widely and so softly at Mackenzie that it made her heart stutter in her chest.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I think this has been the most fun day of skiing I’ve ever had.”

Elliott beamed. “Me too.” Then she hesitated, her smile dimming.

Mackenzie frowned. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Elliott rubbed at her cheek with her mitten. “I was going to say that we should make this a regular thing we do. As friends, I mean—” She cut herself off with a weak laugh, and it was all Mackenzie could do to keep her hands to herself, because Elliott was so adorably awkward. She smiled encouragingly, willing her to go on. “But I guess, I just wanted to check that we’re okay after this morning.” The words came out in a rush, and before Mackenzie could speak, Elliott continued. “I’m so sorry. I was asleep, and then I wasn’t, and I just didn’t know what to do, so I ran for it, and I didn’t ask you for consent, and, fuck, I’m⁠—”

Before Mackenzie could take a second to think about what she was doing, she was doing it. Her mittened hands were on Elliott’s cheeks, and her mouth was on Elliott’s. Elliott froze, and then she was hard up against Mackenzie, arm curling around her shoulders as she moaned into Mackenzie’s mouth, the vibrations shooting down into Mackenzie’s toes. Elliott’s mouth opened wider and licked into Mackenzie’s, her tongue gentle but insistent. Urgent even. Like she’d been waiting her whole life to kiss Mackenzie like this and every minute she hadn’t been kissing her had been a waste. When Elliott’s teeth nipped at Mackenzie’s lower lip, it shot right to her core and she groaned, not at all quietly.

Then one of their chairlift buddies coughed lightly.

Elliott, who had well and truly taken control, pulled away from Mackenzie gently. Slowly. Her arm still around Mackenzie’s shoulders, her other hand gripping high up on Mackenzie’s thigh. Mackenzie could only stare. Elliott was flushed, pupils blown wide open, kiss-bruised lips parted in apparent awe. She was gorgeous. Mackenzie wanted to do it again. And never stop.

Because Mackenzie’s panties were slick under her ski clothes, sure. But every inch of her chest was warm, and her brain was floating with a euphoric high that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to quit. She was giddy, her limbs loose, and a wide smile stretched the skin on her face until it made her cheeks ache.

“That wasn’t very friendly,” Elliott murmured, eyes darting across every feature of Mackenzie’s face in wonder, voice low and unbearably gravelly.

Mackenzie held her gaze as the chairlift reached the top terminal, then they stood together and skied off the lift. They came to a stop near the trail sign.

“I suppose it wasn’t.” More heat pooled in Mackenzie’s belly, and the wet spot she could feel in her panties spread at the sight of Elliott’s teeth sinking deep into her bottom lip. “Did it clear up your concerns? About whether we’re okay?” Mackenzie had meant for it to sound sarcastic, but it came out breathy with arousal that only escalated once more at the mottled flush spreading over Elliott’s face. She had to get this shit under control.

Which was difficult when Elliott could only nod weakly in response, throat bobbing with a hard swallow. “I think so.”

“Good.” Swallowing, too, Mackenzie went on. “Sometimes friends kiss each other and experiment with each other, and that’s okay. It doesn’t have to be more than that.” She almost wavered at the small flinch in Elliott’s face at her use of that word—friends—but she was certain Elliott wouldn’t want to address why she had that reaction.

She thought it sounded confident. Hoped it did, anyway. Meanwhile, everything in her own body revolted against the sentiment, her brain actively at war with the parts of herself that wanted Elliott in every way. In all the ways. She found she needed to put her goggles back down over her eyes just in case the burning and prickling that had started behind them escalated to actual tears. “Should we head to the base? You wanted to get a head start on the traffic back to the city, right?”

Elliott’s eyebrows knitted together, and her mouth turned down in an adorable frown that Mackenzie had come to learn was the face she made while she was making a decision. “Yeah, sounds good. Do you want to lead?”

Mackenzie nodded. “Try to keep up,” she called over her shoulder as she skied away, breathing hard around the stone that had lodged itself in her throat. Friends. The creeping despair rose in her stomach once more, but when the sweet sound of Elliott’s husky laugh reached her ears, it was like a barricade to the feeling. It stopped—stock still like a bee in honey—and Mackenzie wondered if Elliott’s laugh was a balm to the other ugly feelings that often plagued her. And she wondered if she’d have the opportunity to find out.

NINETEEN

ELLIOTT

Elliott pulled up in front of Mackenzie’s building and turned in her seat to face her. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“Which part?” Mackenzie asked, releasing her seat belt, brow furrowed.

Elliott swallowed and tried to organize the words in her head to make sure they came out in the right order. “About everything being okay with us.” She lifted a shoulder and stared at the Subaru logo on the steering wheel, stomach lurching. “I know we can’t be more, but I really don’t want to not have you in my life now you’re here, you know?”

Mackenzie’s face softened. “I feel the same way, and I meant every word.”

“Cool.” Elliott felt her head bobbing like a fucking loser in a ’90s music video. There were many moments in her life where she wished she could be cool and normal, but it seemed like, at twenty-eight, the lake had frozen over on all her distinct not-coolness.

Apparently sharing part of Elliott’s brain, Mackenzie giggled. “You’re a major dork, you know that?” Elliott snorted and tried for offended but failed, judging by how Mackenzie only giggled harder. “You looked so cool in your flannel, holding your Chucks when I first saw you in the airport.”