Twisted Hate (Twisted 3)

Ava: Have fun! xx

“You called it.” I pocketed my cell. I wasn’t sure whether Jules needed Ava to stay with her, or if this was another one of Ava’s attempts to force me and Alex to make up. Probably both. “What’s up with Jules, anyway? Ava didn’t say.” I kept my tone as casual as possible.

“I didn’t ask.”

Of course he didn’t. Alex only cared about two people, and both their names started with an A.

“Well, I’m sure she’s okay.” I slid my goggles off my head and over my eyes.

“You seem unusually concerned with her well-being. I thought you hated her.”

My spine turned rigid at the implication. “I’m not, and I do.”

“Right.”

I ignored his knowing glance and angled my head down the hill. “Race you to the bottom.”

It was part olive branch, part distraction. I’d been handing out a lot of those lately. But if I could thaw my relationship with Jules—only a little bit, for short bursts of time—perhaps I could do the same with Alex.

It didn’t mean I forgave him. I had no trouble holding onto a grudge, but actively hating someone was exhausting, especially when you were stuck in close proximity to them for an extended period of time. And these days, I was just so damn tired all the time. Even when I was physically fine, I was mentally exhausted.

Life chipped away at me, bit by bit, and I didn’t know how to reclaim any of the pieces I lost.

Surprise passed through Alex’s face before the tiniest of smiles graced his lips. “Loser buys drinks for the rest of the weekend.”

“Considering I’m a struggling medical resident and you’re a fucking millionaire, I’m getting the short end of the stick,” I grumbled.

“Don’t insult me. I’m a billionaire,” he said. “But if you have that little faith in your skiing ability…” He shrugged. “We can call it off.”

I scowled. I hated his reverse psychology bullshit, yet I always fell for it. “I have plenty of faith in my athleticism, desk jockey.” I held out my hand. “It’s a deal.”

Alex let out a soft laugh, unperturbed by the desk jockey insult. He made a shit ton of money sitting behind his desk, so I guess I wouldn’t be bothered either if I were him.

He shook my hand with a competitive glint in his eyes. “Deal.”

And just like that, we were off.

We were both pros at skiing, so it didn’t take us long before we were flying down the hill.

We weren’t supposed to ski such a difficult run at such high speed, but neither of us had ever given a damn about such rules.

My stress from work, my tension with Alex, my disturbing new fixation with Jules....they all melted away as I entered my element.

Adrenaline pumped in my veins, fueled by the wind whipping against my face and the cold air stealing into my lungs. My heart was a wild animal uncaged, my senses sharpened blades that picked up on every detail of the world around me—the flecks of snow spraying up at me, the whistle of the wind and the quiet roar of my heart, every bump and ridge as I tore down my first triple black diamond.

A black-clad figure whizzed by me.

Alex.

My face split into a grin as my competitiveness kicked up another notch. I drove pressure onto the tip of my outside ski and blew past him.

I thought I heard Alex laugh behind me, but the wind carried the sound away before it fully reached my ears.

I made a tight turn around a jutting rock, then another hairpin turn to follow the path of the run. Most people would freak out going this fast on a triple black, but for me, nothing beat the rush of escaping death by the skin of my teeth.

Between Ava’s near-drowning, my mom’s suicide, and the people I saved—and couldn’t save—in the emergency room, Death and I were old acquaintances. I hated the bastard, and every time I survived one of my escapades, it was a metaphorical fuck you to the reaper.

One of these days, he would catch me as he did everyone else. But not today.

More turns. More obstacles that, if I were a less experienced skier, would’ve landed me in the ER as a patient instead of a doctor. I took each one as they came, never slowing down, though I didn’t go quite as fast as I would on a normal slope.

Alex and I kept roughly the same pace until the end, when I beat him to the bottom of the trail by less than five seconds.

Satisfaction filled my lungs. “Looks like drinks are on you this weekend.” I pushed my goggles back up my head, my chest heaving with exertion. “Good thing you’re a billionaire with a b, because I’m asking the bartender for the most expensive drink they serve. Every time.”

“Not yet.” Alex narrowed his eyes. It was always hilarious seeing his reaction when he lost because it happened so infrequently. “Best out of three.”

“Changing the rules after the fact.” I tsked in disappointment. “You’re a sore fucking loser, Volkov.”

“I don’t lose.”