The Mountain (Endless Winter Book 2) by Elisha Kemp

Author:Elisha Kemp [Kemp, Elisha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Lily

“Holy shit. Is that meat?” Eddie’s face lights up the moment we step into the condo and he lifts his head, giving a dramatic sniff. “Oh, thank fuck.” He shoots a mischievous grin in Seth’s direction. “No offense, mate, but you’ve been making some pretty vegetable-heavy dishes.”

Seth huffs, bending to pull off his boots. “It’s called eating healthy.” I can see the hint of a smile though.

“Okay,” Eddie snorts. “I’m nineteen years old. Think I’ve got a bit of time to worry about my cholesterol, old man.”

That has Seth grinning, shaking his head as he rises to stand, even as my stomach does an uncomfortable flip at the reminder of Eddie’s age. At twenty, I know I’m not that much older than him, that it’s nothing like me and Steve. But doubt is a strange thing—always clinging at the edges, dark tendrils constantly seeking out weakness.

“I’m twenty-one,” Seth says dryly. “Not exactly knocking on death’s doorstep over here, okay.”

Eddie waves one hand dismissively. “Sure, whatever. But your metabolism is probably slowing down.”

“Hey.” Matty shoulders past Eddie, reaching around to help me out of my coat. He pauses to press a warm kiss to my cheek, then says: “I take offense to that. I’m twenty-three and my metabolism hasn’t slowed down at all.”

“You guys are idiots,” Liam calls from the kitchen, his voice strained as he uses the potato masher to pummel something in a massive pot on the stove. “Go shower or something. Dinner will be ready in ten.”

That’s when I notice Antoine curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around him, his knees pulled to his chest as he reads a well-worn paperback. His close-cropped curls are still damp from his shower, his skin glowing, but there’s a tired look on his face, a crease at the corners of his mouth that wasn’t there this morning.

He lifts his head to give me a small smile. “Bonjour, ma puce. How was your lesson? Liam told me Jackie requested you again today.”

I grin, recalling how well Jackie did this afternoon. The way she’d gaped when I told her she’d made it down a blue run, and then laughed, an almost hysterical laugh. The laugh of someone letting go of something only they knew they held. She’d been different after that. Lighter. Looser. Like she was finally starting to trust that she could get down the mountain.

“She’s requested me for the whole week,” I say, sinking down onto the couch beside him.

“C’est fantastique,” he murmurs, wrapping one arm around me. He presses his face to the top of my head, then lets out a trembling sigh. “I’m happy for you.”

His book is resting on his knee—a worn copy of You & Me by Tal Bauer. This is my comfort read, he’d told me with a self-deprecating laugh a few weeks ago, when we’d been going through his small collection of books, most in French, a few in English. If you ever see me reading this, you know I’m most likely spiraling into some pit of self-pity and despair.

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