"Now?"

"Yes, now." Her voice was firm, so I waited for her to continue. The light turned green and she pressed on the gas, still creeping along at the speed limit.

"As I said, I don't know how far things have gone, but given your age, I can imagine you've considered having sex with this boy."

"God," I whispered, propping my elbow on the edge of the window and dropping my head into my hand.

"And I want you to know that I don't want you to have sex. I don't feel you're ready, and it can complicate your life in ways you can't imagine."

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do, Jenna. I don't think anyone your age knows until they get pregnant or end up hurt in some other way. But regardlessa"

"I get it."

"Regardless. If you choose to have sex with this boy despite my feelings on the subject, I want you to be safe. I want you to see a doctor, and I want you to use birth control."

"It's not like that, okay?"

We were silent for a moment. I watched her chest rise and then she paused, her breath suspended.

"You're wearing your jacket." She said.

I lifted my head. "What?"

"Last night, you told me you left your jacket at Frieda's. But you're wearing it today."

My body went cold. I'd told her about my jacket before Frieda and I went upstairs to the suite, and then as far as she knew, I'd been in for the night. I thought about telling her Bren had run it over while I was walking Frieda downstairs, but it would have seemed too contrived, too convenient. Neither of us spoke until she pulled into her space at the hotel.

"I'll make you an appointment," she said. And then we opened our doors and went our separate ways.

I dropped my backpack behind the reception desk and went out onto the deck, surveying the mountain for Bren. After about fifteen minutes, I gave up and broke the rules, running up to the suite to grab my boots. My board was still in the rack where I'd left it the night before, and I thought I'd practice a little to kill some time. For one moment, I considered taking the lift up the big mountain. I'd been to the summit with Bren and had made my way down just fine, turns and all, but the thought of going alone drew all kinds of crazy *what ifs' into my head, like breaking my leg as I tried to get off the lift, falling against a rock and knocking myself unconscious, getting lost on a trail or stuck on a black diamond. Instead, I trudged to the top of the bunny hill, stood there with my board as I scanned down and back up for a glimpse of red, then buckled in and took my first run.

It was better than I thought it would be. My turns were improving and I was able to accumulate some speed, skirting and coasting past most of the beginners on the hill. I was still afraid of falling every second, but it felt good to be ignored a little instead of gawked at by other skiers and boarders, who, I imagined, took bets on how many seconds would lapse before I crashed, and in which direction I would bounce. After my fourth tumble-free run, I stopped at the bottom of the slope to unbuckle my boot and rotate my ankle. It was almost healed from the pull, but there was still a twinge of unexpected weakness every now and then.

The sun brightened as a thin cloud cleared its surface, and I tilted my head and closed my eyes, allowing it to shower me with a false sense of normality. I knew it couldn't last, but I let that and every other thought drift away as the rays warmed my face.

"The days are short, the sun a spark, hung thin between the dark and dark."

That voice, rough and smooth, a beach of white sand. I opened my eyes.

"John Updike," Loki said, his eyes Caribbean blue now, and sparkling. His hair was combed back off his face, his skin like porcelain in the sunlight. He glanced down at his skis. They were a metallic chocolate that matched his pants and jacket, but tattooed over the surfaces with bright yellow dots and swirls.

I slid back a little and he pointed to my board with his pole.

"Didn't take you for a boarder," he said.

"Why not?" I glanced at the skiers and riders rushing past us on both sides, making their way to the lift. Bren told me Loki probably wouldn't cause trouble in public, but I found it hard to believe anyway, in the light of day, that he could be so terrible.

"Skiing's more graceful. Don't you think? Riding is so aggressiveaall that stomping around and tearing everything up like Godzilla attacking the city. Besides," he said, gazing down at me with a smirk that was mostly in his eyes. "Skiing is easier to learn. They say."

"I doubt that," I said, motioning to his skis. "There are two planks to control instead of just one. Your legs could be snapped off like twigs."

"Horrible image."

"And what makes you think I'd choose the easiest thing?"

"Doesn't everybody?"

"Do you?"

I felt a jolt of fear run through me as his eyes steadied on mine, the amusement in them freezing over. I fought to be still, to hold my expression as I had the night before when Fenrir loomed in the shadows, but the air grew thick and heavy between us, and my gaze finally dropped under the weight of it. I stared at the white collar of his t-shirt and focused on the necklace hovering just above a" a round, blue stone fastened close around his neck by a leather strap. The stone was the same color as his eyes. He reached up and touched it, his fingers moving over the surface.

"Don't you see how you've chosen what's easy, Jenna?" He asked. I lifted my eyes to his face. His expression was softer now. "Easy to be afraid of me. Easy to believe what they've told you."

"Are you saying it's not true?" I would never have taken his word over Bren's, but my mind craved an explanation, some way to balance what I knew with what I saw.

"There is no truth." He said. "Only perspective."

"Sounds like you're avoiding my question."

He laughed a little. "That is the way of the gods."

And I knew that at least that much was true.

I cocked my head to the side, squinted against the sun as I peered up at him. "Where's Fenrir?"

"Resting. He'll be sorry to have missed you."

"I thought he was going to eat me last night."

"So did I."

"And you would have let him?"

He shrugged. "How do you think he got so big?"

I thought I detected humor in his tone and wondered if it was wishful thinking.

"You lied to me," I said, as if to make an argument for heeding Bren's warnings. "You said he was an Alaskan Malamute."

"I told you what you wanted to hear. What would you have done if I'd told you what he really was?"

Peed my pants, I thought.

"Exactly," he said. I slid back further. He dropped his hand from his necklace. The stone looked darker now and I checked his eyes. Darker.

"You're honest," he said. "That's rarer than you'd think."

"How do you know I'm honest?"

"You're easy to read," he said.

"I have a feeling it wouldn't matter." My voice was shaky.

He stepped closer to me and grinned. "No, it wouldn't."

I leaned back, my eyes moving over his face. I felt as if I couldn't see him whole, like I was playing the game where you are given a close up of one part of something and have to guess the entire image.

"Why are you here?" I asked before the sentence had even formed in my head.

We stared at each other for a long time, the lift and the hill and the noise around us a faded backdrop hung behind this sharp, bright moment.

Before I even registered his turn, I was watching his back as he skied off toward the terrain park. He did not propel himself, but rode his skis like blades, his body still, his poles pointing stiffly behind him. And no one noticed.

I rode the lift back up to base, agonized. There was no doubt in my mind that I should not keep this from Bren. They'd want to know everything. But it was such a quick conversation. Nothing, really. And Bren would freak out, insist on the babysitting thing, and basically imprison me in my own life. Trying to deal with my mother under those conditions would be nearly impossible, and it wouldn't be worth it. I decided that their attention would be best focused on finding out what Loki wanted.

I put my board in the rack, unzipped my jacket and climbed the stairs to the deck, meaning to get my backpack and catch up on my homework in the lodge, but as I reached for the door handle, I caught Skye in my peripheral vision, standing against the far railing. Her stare was pointed, so I dropped my hand and walked over, stopping a few feet away. She was wearing her instructor's jacket, which hung halfway down her thighs and looked a bit awkward on her, and a purple hat that matched her streaks. Her legs were pressed together, her arms in a knot across her chest.

"Make a new friend?" She asked in her emotionless tone.

"Not exactly."

"Are you going to tell Bren?"

"Are you?" I watched her violet eyes, steady on mine.

She shrugged. "Your call."

We were quiet for a moment.

"I don't think it's a big deal," I said. "He has enough to worry about." I gestured toward the bunny hill. "That was nothing. Stupid. I don't want to upset him for no reason."

"So it has nothing to do with your not wanting a bodyguard?" She turned to face me squarely. "Unless it's Bren, of course. And just to let you know, if you think you can walk around here completely clueless as long as there are people around, then you do not understand this situation." She leaned forward. "Loki does not care about anyone. Not us, not you, not your mother, not hundreds of vacationers. No one."

"I'm not walking around here completely clueless," I said.

"Really?" She raised a brow. "Then why didn't you see him coming?"

"Because I do not have supernatural vision," I snapped.

"Exactly." She let herself fall back against the rail with a satisfied smile.

I threw a glance at the sky. "Look," I said. "Just tell me if you're going to tell Bren or not."

She lifted a shoulder, let it fall. "He'd know if he wanted to."

"What does that mean?"

She hissed out a chuckle, her way of punctuating my ignorance. "Bren can see people's thoughts better than I can. He's not in your head because he chooses not to be. He thinks it's disrespectful." She rolled her eyes. "The two of you are going to get us all killed with this *I'm such a good person' crap. It makes me want to throw up."

"The bathrooms are inside to the right." I said coldly. "So are you going to tell him or not?"

"Do what you want. I'm out." She skirted around me and stomped away, her footsteps too thunderous for her tiny build.

Chapter 23.

Just as I was finishing my homework in the lodge, I got a text from my mother. She wanted us to have dinner together. I called Bren to let him know.

"I just got off my shift," he said. My breath caught at the sound of his voice. "How long do you need?"

"I'm not sure. Not long. I think she's just feeling like we need quality time or something. I can text you when we're done."

"Yeah, okay. And listen, do not. Do. Not. Walk over here without me. I will come there when you're finished. Understand?"

"Got it."

My mother and I made spaghetti and meatballs and pretended our earlier conversation never happened. I told her about Brianna and how we weren't speaking because of Bren, leaving out the part about Tyler, and she said there was a Brianna in every class in every school, and that they usually ended up closing small bars in small towns every night while their kids ate fast food and put themselves to bed. It was supposed to make me feel better, but it was sad, and I dropped my last forkful of meatball back onto my plate.

After we cleaned up, my mother watched me text Bren and then we went down to the lobby together.

"Why don't you ask him to come say hello before you go?" She said.

"Now?" My chest felt tight. I didn't know how he'd react to being asked to meet my mother. It was probably on his bucket list right after *have eyes gouged out with hot pokers.'

"Yes," my mother said. "That would be nice."

"For who?"

I thought my mother would correct my grammar, but she just stared, so I went out to fetch Bren.

I caught him at the top of the stairs and he grabbed me right away, holding me so tightly that I couldn't take a breath. I closed my eyes.

"My mom wants to meet you," I said, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

"Now?"

I nodded. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay." He kissed the top of my head. "I showered and everything." I glanced up at him and he grinned. "Let's do it."

We walked back into the lobby, holding hands, and stepped around the reception desk.