Cramps and Cheating: A Ski Trip From Hell

I lay face down in the snow, my stomach cramping so badly that I couldn't straighten up.

My body hurt, but what cut deeper was the chill in my heart.

Owen Schultz stood protectively in front of Sandy Hatfield, his voice dripping with disgust.

"Brooke Greer, can you stop being such a buzzkill? Sandy was just teaching me how to switch edges, and she got a little carried away. You're the one with a weak body who insisted on coming to the slopes, and now you're here faking an injury and playing the victim. Get up already. Don't embarrass us."

Playing the victim? I bit down on my lip.

I'd worked two extra weeks of overtime just to come to Winterley with him, because he said this trip was to celebrate our third wedding anniversary.

But the moment we got here, he hired Sandy, a pretty private instructor. For three whole days, he left me alone at the hotel while he tore down the advanced trails with her.

That day, I finally pushed through the pain and came out to find him, only to be met with a face full of snow and to be called a buzzkill.

I pointed a trembling finger at the turtle cushion strapped to Sandy's backside.

I said, "Owen, I sewed that protective cushion for you."

Owen was taken aback for a moment, then got even more annoyed.

"So what? That thing's hideous. I'd be embarrassed to wear it. Sandy didn't bring her protective cushion, so I gave it to her. At least it's being used."

Being used.

I had pulled three all-nighters, pricking my fingers on the needle more times than I could count. I had even made a pilgrimage to Mount Cloudview to get a protective charm and sewn it deep inside the turtle's belly.

Yet, in Owen's eyes, the turtle cushion was just an ugly, embarrassing piece of junk he could give away.

Sandy saw right through me. She covered her mouth in exaggerated shock, but her eyes sparkled with smug satisfaction.

"Oh my! So Brooke made this? I'm so sorry, Owen. I had no idea it meant so much to her. Even though the stitching is rough and the stuffing is all lumpy…"

She tugged at the turtle's strap, her expression one of disgust.

"And it's honestly pretty tacky. I should probably give it back to Brooke."

She pretended to unbuckle it.

Owen grabbed her hand immediately

"No way. Once I give something away, I don't take it back. Besides, if you gave it back to her, she'd just throw it in the trash. So, you might as well wear it. At least it'll cushion your falls while you practice snowboarding."

With that, Owen turned to me, his eyes as cold as ice.

"Brooke, if you keep this up, you can head back to the hotel by yourself. Don't mess up Sandy's lesson."

The sight of Owen defending her somehow made the ache in my stomach fade.

When the heart was dead, the body no longer felt pain.

I pushed myself up on my ski poles, staggering to my feet. Then, I brushed the snow from my knees.