The season endless winte.., p.1
The Season (Endless Winter Book 1), page 1
THE SEASON
Endless Winter Book One
ELISHA KEMP
The Season © 2023 by Elisha Kemp
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For information contact the author at her website elishakempbooks.com
Cover art and design © Elisha Kemp
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, businesses or locales is coincidental and is not intended by the author.
The most important thing is to ride, ride, ride, and not be intimidated by anyone… Ride in front of people, fall down, and fall down again. You’re the only one that’s learning while they are gawking and judging.
Also, ride only with nice people.
Victoria Jealouse
Contents
Content warning
Typos and Languages
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Languages Glossary
Thank you!
About the author
Also by Elisha Kemp
Content warning
This is a polyamorous romance containing some content that is not suitable for young readers, including violence, alcohol consumption, sexual situations and swearing (in English and French).
All main characters are over the age of 18.
There is also discussion of themes that might be upsetting for some readers, such as grooming (prior to our story, the FMC dates an older male character who met her when she was 17 years old), non-consensual drugging and attempted sexual assault.
There is also recollection of a scene where two children are injured on the ski field (no fatalities), and another flash-back to a scene where a convoy of vehicles is attacked / bombed in a combat zone (with fatalities). While both these scenes have minimal details and occur in the past, we see how these incidents affect the MCs and they may be upsetting for some readers.
Finally, this is the first in a series, and does end on a (relatively low-angst) cliffhanger.
Please do not hesitate to contact the author directly with any questions or suggestions for adding to the TWs.
Typos and Languages
The Season features characters who are ski and snowboard instructors from all over the world. They often speak in their mother-language, swear, and use a variety of slang (including slang from New Zealand, Australia, and France).
While this story is written in American English, non-American words are used where appropriate for the characters speaking. For example, the Kiwi characters would never dare call their mothers anything but ‘mum’, and our French character dutifully refers to his mother as ‘maman’. The Kiwis are also particularly confusing, calling the trunk of the car a ‘boot’, the kitchen counter a ‘bench’ and saying things like ‘sweet as’.
Non-English words are italicized, and there is a glossary in the back with some definitions. However, if in doubt as to the meanings of any slang or words used, use google, or contact me.
This book has been professionally edited and proofread. However, if you do spot errors, please contact me at: elishakempauthor@gmail.com or reach out via IG or FB. Please do NOT report it to Amazon (as that can result in this book being taken down).
Prologue
Lily
“Your boobs look bigger.”
Without thinking, I glance down, half expecting to see my breasts spilling out of my bikini, then lift my chin to give Steve a bland, patently unimpressed look.
“Nope. Just the same awesome size as always,” I deadpan. “Glad you could make it, Steve.”
I’m not glad.
In fact, I’m seriously regretting the last-minute impulse that had me inviting him to my going away party.
A quick glance at my friends tells me I’m not alone in wishing Steve hadn’t come. Henry looks like he’s going to crush the plastic cup clenched in his fist. Ethan looks like he’s swallowed something bitter, and Summer is shooting me a look that clearly says she’s doubting my sanity. I give her a tight smile.
You and me both, sweetheart.
Steve steps close enough to invade my personal space, smelling like coconut shampoo and chewing gum as he tucks a strand of silky, black, shoulder-length hair behind his ear. I swallow against the memories. Memories that should be sweet, but now are tinged with self-doubt and no small amount of anger.
“So, you’re going to Utah?” he wrinkles his nose at the word Utah, as if it instantly conjures up images of sister-wives and Mormon missionaries zooming cheerily around on bicycles. “Why?”
So many reasons. One of which is currently standing way too close to me under the palm trees on the sun-kissed grass of Kailua Beach Park.
I shrug noncommittally, like I’m a carefree traveler, and not someone fleeing the island to escape the accumulation of their poor decision-making. “To teach snowboarding.”
He lifts one brow, eyeing me in disbelief.
“Oh look!” I clap my hands together, then turn to face the six-foot-six giant striding across the lawn, giving Steve my back. “Travis is here.”
Travis might be another one of the many reasons that I’ve booked a one-way ticket to snowy Mormon hell, but he’s also nice. Too nice, probably, considering how I’ve strung him along.
I trot over to him, practically leaping up to wrap him up in a hug, then smack a kiss on his cheek. “So glad you could make it!”
He gives me a tremulous half smile. It’s an awe shucks sort of smile, the sort that you’d expect on storybook cowboys, and not ex-hockey players studying premed. He’s clutching a leatherbound notebook and—when I finally release him—he presses it into my hands. “I got this for you.” His smile falters, his gaze dropping to his feet. “I know how you like to journal, so…”
I flick it open, my heart stuttering at the hand-drawn artwork gracing the inside cover. His work, no doubt. Intricate pen-work of a banyan tree that must have taken him hours.
“Wow. Thank you.” I clutch the journal to my chest, nausea rising in my stomach alongside the warmth.
He’s perfect. So damn perfect. Why can’t I feel anything for him? What is wrong with me?
He shrugs, his grin showcasing the dimples in his cheeks. “It’s nothing.”
It’s everything.
“Lily!”
Henry is storming across the grass toward me, a scowl plastered on his face. He pauses when he sees Travis, tips his chin in his direction, then turns his attention to me. “Why did you invite Steve?”
I grimace, my gaze dropping to my bare feet. I can hear the incessant crash of the waves on golden sand, the rhythmic pounding of the ocean interspersed with the occasional cooing of ring-neck doves and chittering of myna birds.
The sounds of a stifling paradise that I can’t wait to escape.
I don’t answer.
“Hey, calm down dude.” Travis throws one arm around my shoulder, his voice never losing its calm, slightly stoner-ish cadence. I want to roll my eyes at his misplaced protectiveness. “It’s not a big deal…”
“He’s a fucking asshole,” Henry hisses.
He’s not wrong. I swallow, tipping my head up to meet Henry’s eyes, my heart clenching at the sight of the protective fury burning there.
He’s such a good friend. Why couldn’t I have fallen for him instead of Steve? I tried. I really tried.
“Everyone hates Steve. You know that.”
Actually, everyone loves Steve. I can’t go to downtown Honolulu without someone running up to him, fawning over him. Steve, the famous musician. Steve, with the charismatic smile and the connections.
I think my friends might be the only people on the island who don’t like him.
“Yah. I know,” I say on an exhale. “But he’s here now…”
Henry gives me an unreadable look, stretching up to his full height as he cracks his knuckles, then rolls his neck. “He’s here for now,” he says cryptically, then glances to where Ethan sits next to Summer in the shade.
The two exchange a look, silently communicating in that way that only best friends can. Ethan stands, brushing his hands off on his boardshorts, a feral grin spreading across his freckled face.
“Henry…” I say warningly. But it’s too late. Ethan is sauntering across the grass, his smile at odds with the icy gleam in his blue eyes.
“What’d he do, anyway?” Travis asks, annoyingly directing his question at Henry, not me.
Henry’s nostrils flare, his lip curling back in disgust. “Cheated on Lily.”
I roll my eyes. It’s more complicated than that. He didn’t cheat. Not really. But I don’t say that. If they knew the whole story, they’d either be disgusted with me, or pity me.
I’m not sure what’d be worse.
“Shit.” Travis shakes his head, turning to me with his brow pinched in confusion. “And you’re still friends with him?”
I let out an exasperated sigh. No. I’m not friends with him. I’m not even sure why I invited him. Maybe I internalized too many of those forgiveness sermons from the Sunday school my parents made me attend.
“It’s a small island,” I say by way of deflection. “You know how it is.”
Of course, Travis doesn’t know. He’s from Texas, where you can escape your acquaintances just by driving a couple of hours. Here, a couple of hours will have you taking a slow, scenic journey around the island until you’ve come full circle, right to where you started.
Which is why my bags are currently sitting in the back of Ethan’s rusty pick-up truck, ready and waiting for me to go to the airport.
“Whatever,” Henry grunts, dipping his head in reluctant acknowledgment. He’s a keiki kama'aina like me. Born and raised down the street from my parents’ house, in a town where your auntie’s neighbor will tell your grandma if you step one bare-footed toe out of line. “That doesn’t mean you had to invite him.”
He’s right, but I’m not going to tell him that. Instead, I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m going to hang out with Summer.”
I shrug out of Travis’ grasp, then flash him a smile over my shoulder, beckoning him to follow to where Summer and a few of our friends are sharing the remnants of poke from Tamura’s.
Beyond them, a handful of others are playing a game of ultimate frisbee in the sunshine. I shake my head in disbelief when I see Steve is among them, looking cocky as always, his smile white against his sun-darkened skin. Across the field, Ethan and Dylan stand close together, whispering conspiratorially and casting occasional dark glances in Steve’s direction.
He’s going to get fucking pummeled.
That thought shouldn’t fill me with satisfaction, but it does.
“Hey chica.” Summer knocks her shoulder against mine as I sit cross-legged on the picnic blanket beside her, then scoots the half-empty poke container in my direction. “Eat up. Who knows when you’ll next get ono grindz, eh?”
I snort in amusement, then grab the spare chopsticks and dig in, closing my eyes in momentary bliss at the delicious blend of soy, wasabi, and fresh ahi.
“They have food in Utah,” I dutifully inform her around my mouthful. “Even poke.”
Of course, they’re called poke bowls there, and they’re mostly rice and vegetables with a few pieces of fish. But no point in telling Summer that. It would just stress her out.
Summer wrinkles her nose. “Please tell me you don’t eat seafood when you’re there? You know you should never eat fish if you can’t see the ocean.”
“Not true,” Travis interjects, dropping to my other side, his massive legs stretching out on the grass. He eyes the poke with suspicion. “We eat fish back home in Texas all the time. Usually cooked, though…”
Summer gives him a bland, unimpressed stare, her lips curving down in sharp frown. “Look, haole boy…” she starts, lifting one accusatory finger in his direction.
Travis shoots me a panicked look and I chuckle, plopping another piece of poke into my mouth as I settle in for one of Summer’s rants.
It’ll start with a brief—and probably loosely substantiated—explanation of why raw fish is healthier than cooked fish, before quickly devolving into a history lesson on the ahupua’a system of pre-European land division. She’ll throw in the fact that Queen Liliuokalani never ceded control of Hawai’i to America, making Hawai’i legally a sovereign nation, and pepper in examples of the military damaging the precious ecosystems of the islands.
I would feel bad for Travis, but he’s been around my group of friends long enough to know the risks of insulting Summer’s favorite food.
My gaze wanders to the game of ultimate frisbee as I tune out Summer’s familiar voice.
Lani is on Steve’s team, and she’s thrown him a Hail Mary pass. Steve sprints with everything he has across the field—shirtless, of course—his bare feet kicking up clods of dry grass and dirt. The disk floats above the field, hovering in slow motion above the players. He’s lined up to catch it though, and I can’t help but hold my breath as he leaps up with impressive agility, his fingertips outstretched, grasping for the disk…
Dylan leaps at the same time, twisting midair so that his back is to Steve’s front, expertly putting himself between Steve and the frisbee. It’s a standard defensive move. The aim is to knock the disk to the ground, turning it over to the defending team.
Only, Dylan doesn’t go for the disk. Instead, he drives his elbow back, right into Steve’s face, before the pair of them tumble to the ground. There’s a loud thud, a collective intake of breath from the rest of the players, and then…
“Fuuuckkk.” The sound of Steve’s groans is muffled by his hands as he clutches his face. It’s hard to tell from where I’m sitting, but I’m pretty sure he’s bleeding.
He rolls to his side, knees tucked to his chest with all the dramatic flair of a professional soccer player. “Aghhh…” When nobody comes to his aid, he rolls again, then pulls his hands away from his face to painstakingly hoist himself to a seated position.
I cringe at the sight. Oh yep. He’s definitely bleeding. Gross.
“Whoa,” Travis murmurs beside me. “And I thought hockey was brutal.”
“Oh yah,” Summer agrees unconcernedly. She pops a piece of poke in her mouth, then gestures to the field with her chopsticks. “Everyone thinks ultimate frisbee is some hippie sport, but there’s a good reason I’m sitting here, and not playing with those lunatics.”
Dylan’s already on his feet, brushing grass off his knees, ignoring Steve’s whimpers. Lani strides across the field, looking between Steve and the grounded frisbee with disappointment.
If Steve were anyone else, Dylan would be helping him to his feet. Lani would be patting him on the back, congratulating him for his effort. Ethan certainly wouldn’t be smirking from the end zone, his arms folded across his sweat-slicked chest.
“I think they did that on purpose,” I observe.
Summer shoots me a look, one dark brow disappearing behind her thick bangs, but doesn’t answer.
“Nah,” Travis shakes his head, shaggy surfer hair flopping over his ears. “Dylan’s good people. He wouldn’t do that.”
I frown. Normally, I would agree, but ever since I let Dylan kiss me a few weeks ago, he’s been a complete lunatic.
“Hey, L.” Ethan calls out to me, jogging past Steve without a second glance. “We should probably get you to the airport, yah?”
I look to Summer for confirmation. I left my phone in Ethan’s truck, but she always knows what time it is. She rolls her eyes, pulls her phone out of her purse, then shows me the time. I worry my lower lip, then nod.
“Yah, I guess I should go,” I admit reluctantly, my stomach tightening with nerves.
As eager as I am to escape this island, this is the first time I’ve been to the snow without my parents’ financial backing. Financial backing they’ve made very clear I won’t have this time around.
You should be finishing university, not traipsing off to be a snowboard instructor. I thought you were studying for the LSAT. We didn’t pay all that private school tuition just to have you flush it down the drain…
