When that happened, Lacy would be off by herself. Standing on the sidelines. Alone.
“It’s like he’s stepped right back into his life without a miss.” Kristi shook her head again. “He steers away from most of the skiers—I think that’s because everyone wants to ask him about Jack and he doesn’t want to talk about him. I can’t blame Sam for that.” Her index finger ringed the rim of her wineglass. “None of us do.”
“True.” Lacy herself had seen Sam keep away from strangers, from the tourists who flocked to ski at Snow Vista. Just as she had watched him visit all of the runs on the mountain but the one that Jack had favored. She knew that memories were choking him just as her own had for two years.
Even this cabin—where she had grown up—wasn’t a sanctuary anymore. Instead of memories of days spent with her father, the images in her mind were all of her and Sam, starting their life together. Lacy glanced around the familiar room, seeing the faded but comfortable furniture, the brightly colored throw rugs, the photos and framed prints hanging on the wall.
When she and Sam had married, they’d moved into her place—the plan had been to stay there and add on to the simple cabin until they had their dream house. The cabin was in a perfect spot—great views, close to the lodge and the ski runs—plus it was hers, free and clear, left to her after her father’s death. Of course, those building plans were gathering dust in a closet and the rooms for the children they’d planned to have had never been built.
But staying here in this cabin had been a sort of exquisite torture. She’d heard Sam’s voice, felt his presence, long after he left. Even her bed felt too big without him sharing it with her. Sam had torn up the foundation of her life and left her sitting in the rubble.
“Sam’s even talking to Dad about building a summer luge ride. One like Park City has, to give tourists something to do up here in summer.” Frowning, she took a sip of wine and grumbled, “I hate that it’s a good idea.”
“I know what you mean,” Lacy admitted, chewing on another cookie. “I want him to be out of step, you know? To stumble a little when he takes charge after two years gone. And yet, he’s doing it all and he’s getting a lot done. He’s already had a contractor up at the summit to see about building the new restaurant and he’s hired Nancy Frampton to draw up plans.” She took a huge bite of the cookie and ground her teeth together. “He’s gotten more done in the last few days than we have in two years.”
“Irritating as hell, isn’t it?” Kristi muttered.
“Really is.”
“I don’t know if I want him here or not. I mean, I’m glad for Mom and Dad—they missed him so much. But seeing him every day...” She stopped, her eyes widened and she groaned out loud. “God, I’m spewing all over the place and this has got to be so much worse on you.” Instantly, Kristi looked contrite, embarrassed. “How are you handling it?”
“I’m fine.” Lacy figured if she said those two words often enough, they might actually click in and she’d be fine.
At the moment, though, not so much. Her gaze shifted to the closest window. Through it, she had a view of the snow-covered forest, a wide sweep of sky, and there, she thought, through the trees, a glimpse of Cabin 6.
Most of the time she could pretend he wasn’t there, but at night, when he had the lights on, he was impossible to ignore. As she watched, she saw his shadow pass a window and her heartbeat fluttered. Having him that close was a new kind of torture, she told herself.
For two years, she hadn’t known where he was or what he was doing, except for the occasional updates from his parents or snippets in the media. Being apart from him tore at her—at least in the first few months. Now he was here, and still out of reach—not that she wanted to reach out and touch him. But having him close by and yet separate was harder than she’d imagined it could be.
When he first told her he’d be staying in the cabin closest to her home, Lacy had worried that he’d be coming over. But not once had Sam walked to her door. And she didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse. The only thing she was sure of was that her nerves were stretched taut and sooner or later, they were going to snap.
“You’re not fine.” Kristi’s voice was soft and filled with understanding.
Lacy might have argued that point, but Kristi was her best friend. They’d seen each other through high school, college courses, mean girls and heartbreak. What would be the point of trying to hold out now?