Page 66 of The Lodge

The wrist is doing much better, thanks. I’ve been at the cafe for approx two million years

Sounds like a good work day, he writes back.

Productive day before I died of exhaustion, I reply.

His next message is a modified emoticon—:))))—like he doesn’t know the emoji keyboard exists. I don’t know why I find it so charming.

How about you?I write.Good day on the mountain?

I am also currently dead, he replies.

Didn’t know ghosts could text

I’m a ghost of many talents, Alix.

It was a pretty last day, at least

SO pretty, he replies.I lost count of how many runs I did this afternoon. Some double blacks, some regular blacks. Too many greens. One of my clients had a pretty bad fall today

Hopefully your client was more graceful than I was last night…

I’m becoming a regular at the medical center for all the wrong reasons, he writes back.Doc gave me a hard time about it lmao

Are there ever any *good* reasons to become a regular in the medical center?

Very good point

So are they okay? Your client?

Torn ACL, he writes.Hate to see it. Especially because the guy insisted on trying a black, but he wasn’t ready for it. Told him I didn’t feel comfortable taking him up, so he went on his own after our lesson was over. Found him struggling at the bottom, he could hardly walk

Yikes, I reply. It reminds me of the guy I dated in college who tore his ACL under eerily similar circumstances.

Yeah :(

Sounds like a pretty good day otherwise with all the skiing, though? I’ve just been working

It was awesome otherwise, yeah, he writes.Super sore now, though

Wow, ski instructors get sore, too? I thought pros were immune to that sort of stuff

Shhhh, he replies.Don’t tell anyone. It could ruin our image

Sounds like you need a massage

I’ve just hit send when I realize it sounds a lot like I’m offering to give him one rather than suggesting he go see someone at the resort’s spa, which—

I mean—

I would.

Give him a massage, that is.

Wouldn’t say no to that, he replies.But if your wrist hurts too much, no worries :)))

I blink at my phone screen.

It’s an open invitation. The image of him shirtless flickers across my memory—taut muscles under smooth skin—and the idea of my hands, my handson him—