But he understood why she would think that way. Her most important relationships had proved as unstable and unreliable as the snowpack on a steep slope. One moment she’d been standing on what had felt like a solid surface and the next that surface had gone, sweeping her off the mountain in an avalanche of pain that had left her living in a world where nothing felt secure.
He tried to imagine how it must feel to know your parents had chosen a different life. A life that didn’t include the child they’d made.
Family life could be messy—he knew that. Tyler’s experience with Janet Carpenter had been harsh, and the O’Neils certainly weren’t perfect. Much of the time they drove him half-crazy, but they were his family and they were there. Yes, there were arguments. Big, door-slamming arguments. Hell, in Tyler’s case the arguments had driven him from Snow Crystal for a while. And Sean wasn’t exactly rushing home, either, but no one in the O’Neil family had ever doubted they were loved. The arguments, the irritations, the frustrations all added up to a package he couldn’t imagine living without.
And one thing he knew for sure—no one in his family would have spent Christmas night at a police station.
He’d left home because he’d craved independence. He’d wanted, needed, to prove himself. But he’d always known he could return at any point. He’d known they had his back and that if life had buried him in an avalanche, they’d be right there digging him out. And he would have done the same for any one of them, which was why he was here now.
Kayla had never had that support from anyone.
She’d had only herself to rely on, with no support from the sidelines. For her, security came from not taking risks in her personal life.
He took it as a positive sign that her guard was up. It meant she felt threatened. And feeling threatened meant she cared.
Presumably she’d work that out for herself if she hadn’t already.
Jackson decided to let that kick around in her brain for a while.
“I’m glad we had this talk because now we both know where we stand. Let’s go and break the news to Tyler you want him to be a media star.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NOW WE BOTH know where we stand.
Kayla stamped her feet into her skis and zipped up her jacket. She had no idea where she stood. She’d made it clear she wanted him to back off, and he’d made it clear he had no intention of doing that. Part of her wanted to argue further, but she didn’t want to prolong a conversation she found terrifying.
He’d accused her of running away, but that wasn’t what she did. True, she avoided emotional entanglements, but that was a lifestyle choice. It had nothing to do with running and yet somehow he’d made her feel like a coward.
“Remember what I taught you—” Jackson removed his gloves and bent to tighten her boots.
She put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself and was immediately transported back to the night before. She’d explored the dip and curve of those muscles with her fingers and mouth. She knew the feel of his skin and the power of his body.
He straightened, his gaze holding hers.
Around them skiers whizzed past, their jackets a swirling kaleidoscope of bright color against a background of white, but all she saw was the blue of Jackson’s eyes.
Her mouth was dry, her fingertips frozen. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can. It’s an easy run and I’ll be right next to you.”
“I wasn’t talking about the skiing.”
“I know.” His voice was gentle. “But you need to stop panicking and have some fun. Live a little, Kayla.”
“I like the way I live. Is it so wrong to enjoy work?”
“No. But when work becomes something you use to prevent you facing the things that scare you—that’s not good.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I’m trying. And I know that when you’re scared, the best thing to do is throw yourself into whatever it is that scares you. Just do it. Don’t think about what could go wrong. That’s a surefire way of never doing anything in life.”
“It’s a surefire way of getting hurt.”
“I’m still not talking about skiing.” He covered her lips with his fingers. “Stop assuming something bad will happen.”
She tried to ignore the feel of his fingers on her lips. “Maybe I’ll fall.”
“Maybe you won’t.” He stared deep into her eyes, and there was humor there and something much, much more serious.
She was definitely falling. Tumbling headlong into something she’d avoided all her life. “Maybe I’ll break a leg.” Or something more important, like a heart.