He starts to answer, then shakes his head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“I didn’t say that.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t just take off for a full day of snowboarding. I’ve got … responsibilities. Besides, it’s June. There won’t be snow for months.”
“Timmy doesn’t have months.” The words feel awful in my mouth, and hurt even more as I say them. “We have to do this in the next few weeks.”
Ash looks a little sick at that. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry. That’s not going to happen, then. I can’t shred on dirt.”
“That’s why we want to take you all up to Oregon, to Mount Hood. There’s a summer ski and snowboarding camp that keeps snow on the mountain and we’ve already talked to them, set it all up.”
“You se
t it up, without talking to me first?”
“I mean, we made sure it was possible. Got some dates that might work. That’s all.”
He nods, looks like he’s considering my words as he starts to pace a little in the narrow confines of the closet. Seconds—minutes—pass and I don’t interrupt. Don’t push. I don’t know what he’s thinking about so hard, but he’s definitely thinking about something and I don’t want to do anything to wreck the chance that he’ll say yes.
Except, when he finally comes to a stop in front of me, I can see the answer in his eyes. And it isn’t yes.
Sure enough, he says, “Look, Tansy, I want to help. I do. And if you want me to fly to Colorado and spend a few hours with this kid—”
“Timmy. His name is Timmy.”
He nods. “With Timmy. I’m more than happy to do that, as long as I can be back here by evening. But going up to Oregon, boarding Mount Hood, that’s a different thing altogether. It’ll take a few days and I just don’t have that. I can’t be gone from here that long. Not right now. Plus, I don’t snowboard anymore. At all. So it’s pretty much impractical, all the way around.
“I mean, I can get you somebody else. I can get Z to go. If Timmy’s a snowboarding fan, he’s got to know who Z Michaels is, right? The guy took home two gold medals from Sochi last winter. So he’s probably a better fit than me, anyway. Or I can call somebody else. I know most of the big names in the sport. Who’s his favorite—”
“You’re his favorite. He doesn’t want somebody else. He wants you.”
“Fuck.” Ash lowers his head, rubs a hand over his neck. “I’m sorry, then. I can’t do it.”
“You mean, you won’t do it.” I don’t mean to sound accusatory, but come on. Timmy is dying and his last wish is to watch—in person—Ash Lewis boarding down a mountain. Ash could do it in his sleep, so I don’t know what the problem is. Why can’t he just take three days to fly up to Oregon, hang with this kid and then come home? It’s easy, will cost him nothing but a little time. And it will make this kid’s dream come true.
“I guess,” Ash says. “If that’s how you want to look at it. I won’t do it. I’m sorry.”
I can’t believe this. This is the first real assignment my boss has given me, the first chance I’ve had to show everyone that I can do this. That I’ll be good at it. And Ash is taking that away from me. Taking it away from Timmy. It just sucks. He just sucks.
“You’re seriously not going to do this?” I ask him incredulously. “The kid is dying.”
Ash shuts down right in front of me—which is really strange to watch. Not to mention unexpected, as I’d thought he was already pretty closed up. But now, he’s like a blank wall. Eyes, mouth, face … everything is completely expressionless.
“I told you what I could do,” he says, stepping around me and walking back into the main area of the rental shop. “Let me know if you want to take me up on it.”
I start to argue with him—surely, there’s something that will convince him to do this for Timmy—but he’s already opening the door of the shop and letting in the handful of people who’ve been waiting in the hall. Already cracking jokes with the customers and renting out equipment, all without so much as glancing in my direction.
Considering the fact that it’s barely been twenty minutes since he tried to fuck me, I can’t help being a little insulted. Okay, a lot insulted.
Not sure of what else to do at this point, I leave my card on the counter—just in case he changes his mind—and walk away. Ash never even sees me go.
Chapter 3
Ash
When I get home from work, my brother’s lying on the sofa, playing a Winter Olympics game with Z. His feet are resting in Cam’s lap while she rubs them gently and cheers him on.
I look him over, checking for signs of damage from the fall earlier. He’s got a small bandage on his head that doesn’t look too bad and a couple of bruises on his cheek. I want to check them out, to make sure he really is okay despite Sarah’s and Cam’s reassurances, but he’s having such a good time that I don’t want to ruin it by drawing attention to his injuries.