A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 19: CHAPTER NINETEEN

ASHLEY

God must be punishing me for every wrong I’d ever done in my life. There was no other explanation for this level of cosmic cruelty.

A flash of guilt tugged at me. I should’ve been selfish. I should’ve insisted on sharing with Violet, even if it was going to make things awkward. At least that would’ve made sense. But here I was, standing in a room where sharing a bed with Kyle was my only option.

“I’ll take the floor. Don’t worry,” Kyle’s voice broke through my thoughts, calm and almost too casual.

“But—” I started, but he cut me off before I could finish.

“I’d be okay with the duvet and pillow,” he added, as if that solved everything.

I opened my mouth, wanting to argue, but for a split second, I felt like maybe I was the one overreacting.

With a resigned sigh, I nodded, muttering a small, reluctant, “Okay.”

Ten minutes later, we were back outside, the freezing air hitting me like a slap in the face. I left the room before Kyle, needing a few seconds to shake off the discomfort that clung to me like the cold.

When Kyle finally emerged, I froze for a second.

He was fully decked out in top-of-the-line ski gear—black pants, a blue jacket that stretched over his broad shoulders, and ski goggles perched on top of his gray cap. The outfit was more than just practical; it fit him perfectly, emphasizing the rugged, athletic charm that seemed to draw attention from every woman in the vicinity.

had to tear my gaze away before I let it linger too long, my breath forming clouds in the cold air.

Violet and Ryan caught up with us just as we were about to head towards the lift. Violet was dressed in ski gear as well, but she wasn’t quite as ready to hit the slopes. Her movements were slower, a little more cautious. I could see it in her face—she wasn’t feeling as confident as the rest of us.

“You sure you’re okay?” Ryan asked, his eyes scanning Violet’s face with that protective look he always wore when it came to her. His hand lingered on her shoulder for a moment before she waved it off, smiling faintly.

“I’m fine. Just don’t want to push it,” she said, glancing at the snow-covered mountains in the distance. “I’ll watch you guys.”

I couldn’t help but feel a pang in my chest as I watched them. It had been like this for a while now, this easy, comfortable connection between them..

“Ready to go?” Kyle finally asked, breaking my thoughts. His voice was gruff, but there was something almost... expectant in it, like he was waiting for me to say something. I looked at him, wanting to respond but no words came.

I had to push past it. I had to focus on skiing—on doing something I loved, something that had always been my escape.

Skiing has been one of my favorite things to do. I’d gone with Kyle countless times before we got married. Those trips were easy, carefree. But everything had changed. Now, I was here with him again, and it felt like the past was waiting to catch up with us.

The mountain stretched before us, intimidating but exhilarating. The wind whipped across my face as I pulled on my gloves, tightening them with practiced precision. I could already feel the rush—the thrill of speeding down the slopes, the freedom that only skiing could give me. It was something I could rely on. I didn’t need Kyle for this. I didn’t need anyone.

“Alright,” I said, forcing myself to shake off the tension. “Let’s go.”

Violet’s laugh followed us as we made our way to the lift, but it was more of a light chuckle than actual excitement. She was content to watch from the sidelines, and Ryan had offered to skip skiing to stay with her.

Great,it's just me and Kyle now.

The moment we got to the top, I unstrapped my skis, adjusted my goggles, and took off down the hill with an easy, practiced motion.

Behind me, I heard Kyle doing the same. He was skiing, too, but I wasn’t going to look back to check if he was keeping up. I was focused—on the mountain, on the rush, on the carving of my skis into the snow.

I leaned into the next turn, and the speed built quickly, the rush of it making my chest tighten in the best way possible. Skiing had always been my escape. Every turn, every twist, every stretch of the mountain was mine. I was in control, and for once, I didn’t have to think about anything else.

But then, I heard Kyle’s voice behind me.

"You’ve gotten better," he said, his tone casual, almost complimenting.

I didn’t respond immediately, focusing on my form. The wind rushed past me, but I couldn’t ignore him.

“Yeah, I ski a lot of times,” I finally answered, my voice steady but curt, eyes still locked ahead.

"A lot?" Kyle echoed "We’ve only gone skiing twice before."

"Twice with you," I muttered under my breath, almost to myself. My breath came out in a steady rhythm as I leaned into another sharp turn. "I went a lot of times when you weren’t around."

And just like that, the air between us shifted. The words hung in the space between us, the reminder of the times he’d let me down in the past. The canceled dates, the empty promises. When the boredom and loneliness had gotten too loud, I’d taken myself skiing just to escape. It had become a ritual.

Kyle didn’t say anything after that, and for a moment, the only sound was the crunch of snow beneath our skis and the rush of wind around us.

The silence was thick, but it was comfortable.

But then, just as I was getting lost in my thoughts again, something jolted me back to the present.

“Stop!” Kyle’s shout was sharp, and the alarm that shot through my veins was instant. I whipped my head to see him just a little too close for comfort. The realization hit like a punch to the gut.

I was going too fast.

The hill had been deceptively smooth, the turns getting sharper as I descended. My muscles tensed as panic gripped me. I pushed the backs of my skis outward, trying to form an inverted V.  But it wasn’t enough. The velocity of my descent was too much.

Everything around me blurred as I fought to regain control.

"Shit!" I swore, trying to adjust, but my skis were already locked in a fast, uncontrollable slide.

And before I could react any further, I slammed into Kyle with a force that knocked both of us off our feet.

The collision was brutal. My skis tangled with his, and in the blink of an eye, I was on top of him, the cold, hard snow crashing against my body. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, and I let out a startled grunt. Kyle did the same.

Are you okay?” he asked, his breath warm against my skin.

“Yeah,” I muttered, still struggling to regain my composure.

But then I became painfully aware of how close we were. I hadn’t moved yet, still lying on top of him, our torsos pressed so tightly together that I could feel his heart pounding—fast, erratic, completely at odds with the calm, slow drawl of his voice. The cold air wrapped around us, but the warmth between us seemed to heighten the contrast. Our breaths formed little white clouds, mingling in the tiny space between our faces.

For a second, I was breathless again, but not from the fall.

I licked my lips without thinking, and his gaze snapped downward, darkening instantly. His eyes lingered on my mouth, and I felt a sudden jolt of electricity, a charge that ran through me so sharply I could almost hear it. It was like a spark, igniting something inside me that had been dormant for far too long.

I should pull away. I should get off him, give some space, clear my head before my thoughts wandered further into dangerous territory. But the weight of his body beneath mine was grounding, familiar, and for reasons I couldn’t quite explain, it felt... comforting. His scent—winter air mixed with something warmer, something deeply him—invaded my senses, making my head spin.

It’s just the mountain air, Ashley. Get your act together.

That was the wake up call I needed. I pushed myself off him, the cold air hitting my face like a splash of ice water.

I brushed the snow off my jacket, feeling the flush of my face betray the rush of emotions I couldn’t quite name. Embarrassment and adrenaline mixed in equal measure, both surging through me as I stood there, trying to regain some sense of control.

"Sorry about that," I said, my voice coming out hoarse as I took a few steps back, still not meeting his gaze. "Didn’t mean to—"

"It's fine," Kyle cut in. "You alright?"

I nodded, turning away quickly and adjusted my skis, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy.

“Let’s just... let’s just keep going,” I muttered, already pushing off the ground, eager to put distance between us.

Kyle didn’t protest, and after a few moments, I heard the scrape of skis in the snow behind me. He was following, but this time, I wasn’t looking back.