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me think of Remi and the way things used to be with him. With us.
    I curse myself as I take the rest of the woman’s order, then get started on her drinks. I try not to think about him, about the way things used to be. About the way they were supposed to be. What should have been doesn’t matter, only what is.
    Pushing the past out of my mind, or at least to the back of it, where I don’t have to think about it every second, I top the three hot chocolates with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings, just like I promised. As I slide them onto the counter, I watch Z and his friends gather up their stuff and head for the door without a backward glance.
    Which is exactly how it should be, I remind myself fiercely. I’m not here to make friends or go to parties or hang out with hot guys. I’m supposed to be healing, getting my life in some semblance of order, making plans for a whole new future. It’s the smart thing to do. The right thing to do. Something tells me Z and the rest of them don’t know the first thing about the kind of desperation that’s riding me hard. Just one more reason for me to stay the hell away from them.
    I reach into my pocket for my phone and delete the text Luc sent me with the party address so I won’t be tempted to go anywhere but back to my room after my shift is done. And still, as I watch as the four of them tumble, laughing, out into the snow, there’s a little part of me that wishes I could go. That wishes I could be like everybody else up here.
    But I’m not, and I’m afraid I won’t be, ever again. It’s my own fault, and still it bothers me. Not missing the party, because it’s not like I’d have anyone to talk to there anyway. But the realization that there’s still a part of me that cares, that hopes, that wants to be normal. I thought I’d left that girl behind in New Orleans, and finding out that I didn’t …
    Yeah, finding out that I didn’t sucks all the way around.

Chapter 3
    Z
    I can’t sleep.
    I should be able to. I drank enough tonight—last night, this morning, whenever—that I should be passed out cold with the rest of them. But my buzz wore off sometime in the last couple of hours, and without it there’s no chance I’m going to be able to sack out. At least not anytime soon.
    I push off the couch, pick my way through Luc, Cam, Ash, and some random girl Ash brought back here with us after the party. Usually I’m the one with the random hookups, but tonight I wasn’t interested in anything but getting good and fucked up.
    Not knowing what I want to do, knowing only that if I stay in here much longer I’m going to flip the fuck out, I head to the mud room. Pull on some boarding pants and a ski jacket before moving into the garage and take one of my favorite boards off the wall. I should wait until someone’s awake to spot me—boarding on your own is a suicide mission, especially with the effects of last night’s binge drinking still making my head a little foggy. But boarding while I’m a little drunk is nothing I haven’t done before, and besides, I just don’t have it in me to wait. Not right now. Not today.
    Not to mention the fact that if I wait for Cam or one of the others, they’re just going to want to talk about shit, and I definitely don’t have it in me to do that. Touchy-feely crap makes me break out in hives.
    After slipping into my boots, I head out to the side of the house, where I had a half-pipe built pretty much the second the snow started sticking to the ground. It’s a far cry from boarding the backcountry, but it’ll do for now. Maybe if I do enough runs, I’ll finally be able to sleep.
    With no one around to watch, I don’t put on a practice helmet. Don’t check my board to make sure it’s solid before strapping in. Don’t do any of the things I know I should when planning to try a new trick. Instead, I climb to the top of the pipe and lock into place.
    Part of me wants to start big, to just bust out and see what I