16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Cody

We pull up to the ski resort just as the cracks of dawn start to appear.

Streaks of red and gold illuminate the sky, a fresh layer of snow glistening along the majestic peaks of Whistler and Blackcomb Mountain. The PEAK 2 PEAK Gondola connects the mountains two-thirds of the way up, giving skiers and snowboarders a greater collection of terrain. Compared to Castle Mountain, the small hill just outside of Lethbridge I grew up snowboarding on, Whistler is a whole different level.

One I am not entirely sure I am ready for.

Stella squeals with excitement as Mo puts the car in park. Even though the chairlifts don’t open for another hour, the parking lot is already half full. Long johns of every colour imaginable peek out from car doors as families and groups of friends begin the tedious process of putting on ski gear.

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to the mountains.” I voice the thought out loud and Stella shoots her brother a concerned glance.

She shifts in her seat to face me, “You can snowboard, right?”

I nod, deadpan, “There’s never been a run I’m not comfortable sitting down on.”

“Oh my god. You’re a butt dragger?” Stella’s horrified expression is almost enough to break my straight face.

“You know what they say, low and slow is the way to go.”

Mo chuckles from the driver’s seat and receives a glare strong enough to melt the snow crystals outside.

“This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

Stella huffs, flopping herself back against the leather seat, which thankfully did not get pushed back all the way this morning.

“I hate you both.”

Mo grins at me in the review mirror and a flicker of excitement kindles inside of me.

The day goes by in a blur of wind-bitten cheeks and fresh tracks. Instead of stopping for lunch, we decide to eat our packed sandwiches in the gondola and maximize the number of runs we hit today. I’m the only snowboarder in our trio, but Stella and Mo remained surprisingly patient every time I had to clip back in after riding the chairlift.

On Stella’s part, I think she was just relieved my skills were good enough to keep up with the aggressive terrain the sibling pair loved to attack.

Unused to the deeper powder and longer runs, my legs started to burn two hours ago, but the O’Brien’s have yet to show any sign of slowing down. I will be surprised if I can walk tonight, never mind getting out of bed tomorrow.

We slide off the Olympic chair just as a sign goes up signaling last call of the day. I send up a silent prayer of thanks for the early closing time and follow Stella’s pink puff jacket off to the side.

I flop down, quickly buckling in my boots as Stella uses one of her poles to draw a diagram in the snow.

“Alright boys, listen up. This year’s race is going to be down the lift line, making it easy for the rookie,” She nods her equally bright helmet in my direction, “To stay on course. Rules are simple: Whoever gets to the bottom first wins. Sabotage and shortcuts are welcome as long as the Olympic chair remains in your line of sight. Are there any questions?”

I raise a gloved hand.

“Could I get a five-minute head start since I’m the only one who doesn’t know the terrain?”

“No. Any other questions?”

My hand goes back up.

Stella sighs, “Yes, Cody?”

“Are you sure about the head start?”

“Positive.”

Mo smirks as I lower my hand. With his helmet and goggles on, Mo bears a striking resemblance to his father with his wide and intimidating build. The sleek material of Mo’s black Arcteryx coat stretches tight along his shoulders, making the guy look built even under layers of ski gear.

Stella, on the other hand, looks like a cotton candy machine exploded and buried her under layers of pink fluff.

“The trick is to straight line it. Don’t think, just go.” Mo shrugs casually, as if his suggestion wasn’t borderline suicidal.

“What do you mean by straight line? Like don’t turn?”

The question sounds stupid even to my own ears, but I want to make sure I understand him correctly. Because the last time I checked, letting my board run free down the side of a mountain is not a recipe for success.

Stella pushes her goggles up on her forehead and gives me a smile. Platinum wisps fly across her face, the loose strands coated in a thin layer of ice.

“He means just go as fast as you can. Mo and I have a bad habit of not turning when the race gets tight, but that’s probably because we grew up racing.” She smirks, her dark blue eyes shining brightly in the cold mountain air.

“You used to race?”

“Pfft, like ten years ago. We were only in the racing program for a couple of years before we veered into backpacking and avalanche training.”

I can’t remember the last time my odds of winning were so low.

“And you’re still not giving me a head start?”

“Come on, Cody. The only way to be the best is to beat the best. And you can’t do that with a five-second head start.” She gives me a cheerful smile before pushing her goggles back into position, “The loser has to buy a round of hot chocolate.”

“What does the winner get?”

Mo grins, flashing a set of perfect teeth, “The only thing that matters in the O’Brien household. Bragging rights.”

Stella

“Ready… And go!”

As per tradition, a recruited stranger starts us off to eliminate any possible advantages. The three of us immediately split, Cody making a beeline for the smooth groomed section directly under the chairlift, Mo veering right to avoid a cluster of skiers, and I take a sharp left and disappear into the trees.

Moguls hit my skis at every turn, but years of practice keep my knees soft and bent to absorb the otherwise jarring impact. I use my momentum to pop over a wind lip halfway down, enjoying the fleeting moment of weightlessness as I leave the ground. I land with a light thump, quickly shortening my turns to increase my speed. I glance to the right to confirm the Olympic chair is still in my line of sight and refocus on the slope in front of me.

The discovery of this shortcut was the turning point for me in these races. When it comes to sheer speed, Mo beats me every time thanks to the extra pounds of muscle he’s got, and with Cody it would be no different. It took me a while, but once I figured out it was impossible to beat guys twice my size on a straight-away, I started looking for alternative solutions and stumbled upon this shortcut.

Lucky for me, tight tree runs are my specialty. My lack of height and shorter skis make it easier to execute the short, sharp turns needed to maintain a high speed and avoid colliding with a nearby tree. For the last four years, this shortcut has given me the extra boost I need to outski my brother, and today is no exception.

I fly over the last few moguls and pop out between the trees, folding myself into tuck position as my skis carve into the smooth surface of the groomer. Mo’s black jacket hits my peripheral, his large frame mirroring mine as we both go barreling towards the finish line.

I curl myself up tighter, willing my body to go faster as Mo starts to close the distance between us. I’m just about to claim my victory when a flash of green catches my eye.

I jerk my skis to a stop when I realize Cody’s jacket isn’t above his board like it should be. Mo speeds past me with a celebratory holler, but I’m too focused on the snowboarder cartwheeling down the hill to care.

Cody rolls to a stop near a cluster of trees and without thinking, I unclip from my skis and go running towards his unmoving figure.

“CODY!” My scream gets swept away by the wind, my clunky ski boots making me fumble awkwardly as I run towards the fallen varsity player. The terrible memory of last semester’s lacrosse tournament crashes through my head and I feel my panic rising.

“Ow.”

Cody’s goggles are hanging off the back of his helmet, every crevice of his suit filled with snow. I collapse to my knees next to him, holding back the desire to weep as his coherent brown eyes meet mine.

“Did I win?” His voice is weak but steady, a positive sign he wasn’t hurt too badly.

Yanking off my gloves, I cradle his face with my heads and gently wipe away the clumps of snow sticking to his helmet.

“No, you idiot. You were supposed to snowboard down the hill, not tomahawk your way down.”

He chuckles, bringing his gloved hand up to cup my bare one, “Mo should have clarified the definition of a straight line.”

“You need to be more careful, Cody. You’re still in recovery.”

“I think I’m going to need recovery after this.”

Exhaling heavily, I tilt my head back and close my eyes, letting the falling snow melt away the worry circulating inside of me.

“You are going to be the death of me.”

“Stel.” He tugs my hand, bringing my focus back to his smiling face, “I am completely fine. It was just a fall.”

Pushing himself upright, Cody shifts closer, slowly raising a gloved hand to move aside the frozen strands peeking out the sides of my helmet. He uses the other hand to unclip his helmet, letting it fall to the ground before bringing his lips to mine.

Melted snow leaves his lips cold and damp as they press against mine, soft and reassuring as he tugs me closer. I don’t notice Cody unclipping my helmet until it falls to the ground and a breeze brushes my hair.

He coaxes my mouth open, and I let him, gently moaning when his tongue snakes out to trace the seam of my bottom lip.

Time seems to slow as I deepen the kiss, my frozen fingers raking through his matted hair. Cody groans and pulls his arms tighter around me. The thick sleeves of his winter jacket do nothing to stop the heat radiating off of him, and I’m about two seconds from ripping away the layers separating us when Mo’s voice echoes in the distance.

“STELLA! ELLSWORTH!”

We break apart, breathing heavily. Our puffs of air are visible in the cold air but all I can see is the desire burning in Cody’s eyes.

“There you guys are. What the hell happened?” Mo’s footsteps draw near, and I sit back on my knees, watching Cody struggle to stand up in the deep snow.

“I ate shit. Multiple times.”

More snow falls from his jacket and snow pants when he finally makes it to his feet.

“Tell me you didn’t lose your helmet on the way down.” Mo’s expression turns concerned when he takes in the chaotic state of Cody’s hair.

“Nah, I just unclipped it to get some fresh air.”

“Good. A concussion is the last thing you need right now.” Mo shakes his head, and I take the opportunity to yank my own helmet back on.

“You need help getting down?” Mo looks dubiously at the snow-covered snowboard.

“I’m good. Will take it nice and slow.” Pausing to brush off more snow, Cody shoots us a self-depreciating grin, “Hot chocolate is on me.”

Mo opens his mouth to argue but Cody raises his hand.

“Rules are rules. Who won the bragging rights?”

I say, “Mo,” just as my brother says, “Stella.”

We look at each other, identical smiles spreading across our faces. A situation like this only calls for one thing.

“Guess we’re coming back for a tiebreaker.”

Cody throws his head back and groans while Mo and I high five each other. Nothing beats a good old fashion sibling competition.

We slowly make our way down the hill, stopping momentarily so Mo can run and retrieve my discarded skis. The second Mo is out of earshot, Cody turns and looks at me with an intensity that burns all the way to my core.

“We need to talk. Come get me tonight?”

I nod, feeling flustered before Cody leans in one last time.

“And take us somewhere we won’t be interrupted.”