“Hear me out.” Candice sits up straighter, squaring her shoulders.

“We have to train,” Mia says, and though I won’t voice it, she’s right.

“Are we going to cause you to become an alcoholic?” I ask, the corner of my lips quirking up.

“Can you be serious for once?” Mia spits out.

I tilt my head. “Relax. They can't make us do anything we don't want to do.”

Mia disregards me and challenges Candice, who is back to sipping her champagne.

“No, I’m just going to need a little buzz to deal with the two of you.” Candice waves her hand between us. “Now, be quiet and let me get this out.” Her hand falls back to the table and neither one of us says anything. “You are the best in the women.” She looks from Mia to me. “And you're the best in men.” Her gaze volleys between the two of us. “You'll still have time to train, but you were going to be doing promotions anyway, the only difference is, you'll be doing them together.”

“But—” Mia tries to interject.

Candice shakes her head. “You'll model the outfits the team will wear when they’re competing, you'll do the interviews. It’s an honor to represent your country and your team this way. I'm sorry you guys, but did you really think that either one of you would get out of these Winter Classics without having to face one another?”

“A girl can dream,” Mia quips with eyes narrowed in my direction.

“Well, I'm not a genie in a bottle, so you'll have to suck this up. Most of your appearances will be around the other qualifiers, but you'll be traveling to New York and L.A., too. Together. In every interview, the two of you will be seated side by side. So, might as well practice your smiles and non-verbal body language now. We have a photo shoot planned in a week when we head to Utah.”

She leans back in her seat, lets a big sigh escape and reaches for her champagne.

I want to argue, but she’s right. It is an honor and once upon a time I didn’t think anything like this would be possible for myself, so I’ll have to make the best of it.

“Send me the itinerary, I'll get it handled, but every moment I'm not with the press, I'll be training.”

Mia slides out of the booth. “Me, too.” She walks away without so much as a goodbye. Like I'd expect any less. She acts like she’s the fucking queen and she's yet to prove herself in a Winter Classics.

“Thanks, Candice. You ready for weeks of exploring your parental disciplining skills?”

She downs the remainder of her glass of champagne. “I told them it was a bad idea, but” —she looks back to the doors and my way— “there's more that I didn't tell Mia.”

The beer sits heavy in my stomach. The only thing worse would be to add Mia’s brother, Brandon to this mix.

“They like the angle of you two being a love match. You know…a couple.”

I laugh sardonically. “There's no love match.”

A soft smile creases her lips. “They'll be prying in the interviews. The two of you are unattached attractive young people with a history—”

“Of hating each other.”

Her hand grabs mine and in the last few months I've known Candice, I’ve never seen her so intense. “I don't think you hate her.”

Maybe not, but self-preservation insists I do.

“She needs to grow up. Is there anything else?”

Her smile widens. “There is. I have good news.”

“Finally. You were starting to be my biggest buzz kill.”

She laughs and her hand leaves mine, the moment of seriousness fading.

“Norton is building you a halfpipe to train.”

I smile. I hoped they would, but it takes being on top to make it happen. I may talk a good game and the standings might say I’m on top, but I can’t help but wonder sometimes.

“It will be ready when we get to Utah. Just an FYI though, they only built one.” Her perfectly done eyebrows arch up to her hairline.

“Sucks for Mia I guess.” I slide out of the booth. “I better go practice while I have the time.”

“It’d be a nice gesture if you allowed her to practice on it, too.”

I place my hands on the edge of the table and narrow my eyes at Candice. “Would she do the same for me?”

Her shoulders sag. We both know the answer.

“Have a good afternoon, Candice. It's a great day to be out on the slopes.”

She laughs. “I'm good with the bar. I'll leave the powder to you and Mia.”

I should be ecstatic about having my own personal halfpipe to train on. I'll have a leg up to practice but for some damn reason the fact that Mia won’t have one dampens that excitement. She's been back in my life for forty-eight hours and already her presence is stripping me of my happiness.

---

I hitch a ride up the lift wishing I had more than just a beer in my stomach. Spotting my buddy Beckett waiting to use the halfpipe, I slide up to him.

“Rogue, what's up man?” A skier I don't know says as he passes.

“Great ride last night,” his buddy says with his fist out and ready. I knock knuckles and they carry on their way.

“What's up, Hoff?”

Beckett glances over his shoulder and nods. “Hey, saw you in the restaurant.” The cocky ass smile on his lips makes me wish I didn't seek him out.

“Yeah, turns out princess is my agent’s client as well.”

His mouth hangs open. “You didn’t know?”

I shake my head. “Why are you at the halfpipe?”

Beckett is a slopestyle boarder, meaning he does all those fancy tricks but not in the halfpipe like I do.

“Change of pace. Trying to reenergize myself.” He prepares himself as he moves up in line. “Why are you changing the subject?” His eyes hold that glint of curiosity they always do whenever the Salter name comes up.

Beckett and I became friends at the Winter Classics four years ago. He was my roommate, so all he knows are the rumors. He’s a good enough friend not to pry and bother me for details, so I have to assume he only knows whatever Dax has told him.

“Because I don’t want to talk about the fact that I’ll be spending the next six weeks sitting next to that subject while we promote the snowboarding team around the country.”

His mouth opens wide enough for an entire snowman to fit inside. “You're shittin’ me?”

“Nope.” I adjust myself on my board, preparing to ride right after Beckett.

He clamps me on the shoulder. “Sorry, man. That sucks, but maybe it’ll help you all heal and put the whole thing behind you.”

I mentally scoff. There’s no getting past the events I put into motion.

“Save your California beach bum one love bullshit for yourself.” I push him lightly in the chest.

He laughs, sliding backward to his starting spot. Seconds later he’s off.

Beckett's from California, and even though he doesn't have blonde hair everything else about him screams ‘hey, brah, surf on.’ Hence the reason we call him Hoff—like from Baywatch.

“He's nailing it,” the rider behind me says.

He's right, Beckett should be competing in the halfpipe and the slopestyle. I place my earbud in my ear and ready myself for some fun.

Once he reaches the bottom, he waves his hands in a challenge my way.

“Get him, Rogue,” the guy behind me says so loud I can hear him over my earbud.

Snow crunches under my board as I drop into the halfpipe, but this time the music isn't enough to push my past away. My mind envisions sitting next to Mia at all the interviews. Plastering a smile on our faces so people don't suspect what they should. That four years ago, the Salter and the Kale families flipped from friends to enemies faster than a tossed coin. And I’m responsible.

I'm high up in the air, turning my double cork when my mind finally decides to get with the game, but it’s too late. My shoulder hits the hard ice first, but my body follows, sliding down until I lay limp in the middle of the halfpipe.

I shake my head and stand to my feet, holding my shoulder while I continue down the slope. When I reach the bottom, a medic is already approaching.

“I'm good.” My hand grips my shoulder.

“Let's just do a mobility check on it,” the girl says.

“She's right.” Beckett unstraps himself from his board, helping me off mine and grabbing it to follow me and the medic.

A crowd of onlookers watch, half probably wanting me to be hurt and the other half scared that I might be. Only one face in the group stands out like the sun is shining above her head alone. Mia's eyes don't hold their usual anger as she watches the medics escort me to the first aid station. But there's no way they can be holding compassion. Snow must have gotten in my eyes because she loathes me.

And she has every right to.