by E. J. Noyes
Aspen,
I know you told me to toss all this out but I didn’t. One day you’ll realize you’ve been an idiot and that this shit is important and you’ll regret not having it. Love you and I’m so proud of you.
Hayley xo
The box was fan mail, drawings from children, and articles and photographs of me meeting people at charity events. I’d replied to every bit of fan mail I’d ever received, and said yes, any time someone wanted a photograph or for me to scribble my name on something. Admittedly, it’d been a while since anyone had asked.
I picked up a random envelope, skimming the neatly printed lettering.
April 14, 2006.
Dear Ms. Archer,
Congratulations on your medals! I’m a boarder, but I always watch your skiing events because I admire how you support the LGBT community. I wanted to say thanks for being a role model for me. I just came out to my parents…
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I read the rest of the letter then carefully folded it back into the envelope. A drawing caught my eye—me on a medal podium with a comically large cast around my leg and a huge smile dominating my crayon face. There was short handwritten note underneath it.
Aspen Archer I’m sorry you were hurt at the Olympics.
Jacob age 9
As I pawed through the box of affirmation I realized with sudden and wonderful clarity that my life wasn’t always about the skiing. It was about all the things that came about because of it, and perhaps those were the most important things of all. I carefully placed everything back in the box until I could decide what to do with it all. It couldn’t stay hidden away like this. Neither could other important parts of my life. I had one more thing to do.
My hands weren’t trembling like the last time I’d slid my key into my safe deposit box. That time I was locking my life away. This time I was taking it back. I didn’t linger, didn’t look. I took what I wanted and walked out of the bank with my head held high.
Back home I got straight to work reassembling my prize displays. My trophies were already arranged neatly on shelves with framed photographs on the walls behind. All my medals were mounted in box frames alongside photos of me receiving them and action shots from the winning run. When the medals were set, I screwed the frames closed and hung them. Backing up to the other side of the room to take a good look, I drew in a deep breath and let myself acknowledge that I’d done some pretty cool stuff in my past.
Maybe I’d be able to do the same in my future.
* * *
The day of my meeting with Stacey, I arrived early and skied two easy blue runs to warm up and check the conditions. Still early in the season, most of the trails were closed, including the harder terrain. This was my old stomping ground, and as I made my way down the mountain, a sense of comfort swelled in my chest. The feeling had been absent whenever I’d skied here during my short home breaks, and the change was welcome.
Once I’d finished checking the snow cover, I settled with a hot chocolate at one of the outdoor tables to wait. While I’d been skiing, the nervous excitement I’d felt about starting a new project had almost dissipated, but sitting still made it bubble up again. Nothing to stress about, Aspen. Just a client. A client who could easily go to the top.
I’d almost finished my drink when I spotted my old agent wandering over with three other people. Brick was hard to miss—a big man, both tall and solid with a full beard that had more white in it than when I’d last seen him. Despite solely representing alpine sports athletes, I’d never actually seen him on skis or a board, and as usual his jacket was more fashionable than functional. I stood as the group approached, my nerves suddenly evaporating like the breath steaming from my mouth.
Brick pulled me in for a bear hug. “So good to see you, Doll.”
Given his appearance and nickname, it’d be easy to assume he was as emotionless and hard as a brick. The truth was that he was anything but. He’d always watched out for me, both on and off the ski field, expertly handling the scandal when Adele Tremoux and I were photographed kissing during a backcountry ski expedition. Given she was a well-known journalist and I was in a very dim limelight after my performance in Torino, the photos were soon made public along with some gross and false accusations about me causing her split from her husband.
At age twenty, I’d been completely comfortable with my sexuality and had never hidden it, but I had no idea about how to handle my private life suddenly being made public. Brick held my hand and trudged the minefield with me. Over the years he’d always encouraged me to be who I was, regardless of how hard it might have made his job.
After Vancouver, when I told him about my fears and how long they’d been there, Brick stared at the ceiling and blinked away tears, in stark contrast to my head coach who didn’t believe me and thought I was being a wimp. When I needed help during my recovery, Brick visited whenever hospital staff would let him. When I’d relapsed, he was there. Seeing him again, I felt that renewed shame that we’d drifted apart.
I patted his back. “Good to see you too, but you’ve gotten old, man.”
He let me go and laughed his deep belly laugh. “Can’t all spend our lives drinking from the fountain of youth, can we? You look real good, kid.” He brushed his knuckles over my cheek, lowering his voice to unnatural-for-him quietness. “You doing okay?”
He didn’t need to elaborate, and I answered honestly. “Yeah, I am. How’s Deborah?”
“Enjoying retirement. We’ve got two grandkids now.”
I laughed. “Like I said, you’ve gotten old.”
“Quiet, you.” Arm still around my shoulder, he turned me to the side. “Aspen Archer, you remember Stacey Evans?”
I slipped out from under his arm with my hand outstretched. “Great to see you again, Stacey.”
Stacey came forward right away to shake my hand. Last I’d seen her she was a gawky twelve-year-old with a mass of blond hair framing her face and brushing her shoulders. Now she was about five-foot-nine and still looked like she wasn’t done growing. She’d cut her hair in a short, deliberately messy style, and her freckled face was serene but attentive. She looked me right in the eyes and smiled. “You too. I’m very excited.” The kid was confident but not aggressively so, and I recognized the subtle vibrations of excitement in her taut muscles and the way her eyes darted around, taking in the surroundings.
Brick finished his introductions with, “And Stacey’s parents, Kirsten and Daniel.”
Both average height and fair-featured, they exuded calm confidence. I turned my smile toward them and offered my hand. “It’s great to meet you.”
Stacey’s parents shook my hand in turn, and while we made small talk I made a dozen assessments in those thirty seconds. Family seemed stable and genuinely interested but not pushy. They didn’t ask me what I intended to do or how I was going to make their daughter a champion. Supportive but not overbearing. I could work with this.
“All right then. Stacey, are you ready to get going?” I nudged Brick. “Perhaps you should head inside and get warm? It’ll only be a couple of runs.”
“Only a couple?” Stacey’s disappointment was evident in the slow drawl of her question.
“’S’all I need. We’re not doing anything strenuous, I just want to take a good look.” I didn’t even need that, I’d seen how she skied when watching videos online, but I wanted to spend some time with her to get a sense of who she was.
The spark returned to her eyes and I caught that thing coming to the surface again. She wanted to prove herself to me. “Sure, I can do that.”
We headed to the lifts and started the ride up. I leaned back, rolling my neck to ease the tired muscle. I was having trouble sleeping, and when I finally managed to drift off, I kept waking constantly after bad dreams about seeing my ex and Cate together, or my family being hurt. I slung an arm over the back of the chair. “Want to tell me what your goals are?”
“Olympic golds,” she said immediately. “World Cups, Worl
d Champs. All of it. I want to do what you did. I want to be as good as you.”
I laughed, genuinely amused. “No, you don’t. What you should want is to be better than me, and to have a far longer career than I did.”
For the first time since she strode up to me down at the base, she seemed shy. She glanced over the side of the lift before turning her attention back to me. “I guess.”
“Why do you ski?”
Her legs swung rhythmically. “Because I can’t imagine doing anything but. It’s nearly all I think about.”
I knew that feeling. We chatted a little more about her goals until the top station was in sight. I lifted the bar. “I’ll meet you down at the bottom. No fancy stuff, okay? There’s nothing to prove here, I know what you can do and this is just letting me take a look in person.” I readjusted my goggles.
“Sure thing.” Stacey nodded, rotating her torso to loosen up a little.
I reached up and started the GoPro camera mounted on my helmet, then gestured grandly. “After you.”
I stayed back thirty feet, watching her every tiny movement and decision. The kid had talent and confidence to burn but I saw no trace of arrogance in her skiing. She didn’t buzz slower skiers—rushing past and spraying them to be an asshole. Rather she went wide and slowed down respectfully. She didn’t run off the side of the groomed runs, but stuck exactly to what I’d told her to do. And she skied like someone who lived for it. She skied like I used to.
Despite everything I saw, I also saw O’Reilly, her last crap coach, all over her. Little bad habits, laziness, and shortcuts. But they were all easily fixable and I knew from the videos, and this first run, that she was one of the best raw talents I’d ever seen. Now I knew she had a good attitude to top it off, and all at once I was both excited and terrified. I knew exactly what talent and drive could do if not managed properly.
I made a few wide turns to kill my speed before the slow zone and glided down to meet her. She was flushed and smiling so widely I thought she’d pull some face muscles. I reached up and paused the recording. “All good?”
“Yeah.”
“Nice. Let’s go up again.”
We reboarded the lift and Stacey resumed her leg swinging. “Are you going to tell me what you thought?”
I grinned. “Not yet.” I lifted my goggles up onto my helmet, squinting in the morning glare, but I wanted her to see my eyes. To see that I was sincere. “You gonna tell me what you want from your coach?”
“I want someone who’ll be honest and who will push me to get where I want.”
“I can do that, but I need things from you too.”
“Like what?”
“Two things really. I need your commitment—”
“I’m committed!”
I lifted a finger. “I know you are. Like I was saying, I need that and I also need your trust.”
“What do you mean?” The swinging of her legs slowed and right then, I knew exactly how O’Reilly had coached her. By force and belittlement. Christ, he would have ruined her completely if they’d let him stay on.
“I need you to trust me enough to tell me things. If you’re afraid or have concerns, I want to know. But I also need you to trust me to help you work through those concerns. Trust that I want you to succeed and that I know what I’m talking about.” I smiled. “The point is we need to communicate, but at the end of the day, I’m still the boss.” I winked and tugged my goggles back down.
“Aye aye, Captain. I can do that.”
“Great. It’s a deal.” I offered my hand and she shook it. “So, you got any other interests? Other sports? Movies? Boys?”
“Ah…there’s not many of those.”
“Too busy?”
“Well, yeah but that’s not it.”
My eyebrow twitched up but I forced it and my face to stay neutral. The smile that followed her headshake confirmed my suspicion and everything suddenly slotted into place. Why Brick wanted me. This kid was me, but almost like a better version of myself and she could so easily break and fall the wrong way.
We finished our second run and glided side-by-side back to where we’d first met. Brick and Stacey’s parents were talking near the gear racks and made their way over as Stacey and I clipped out. I pulled my helmet off. “Let’s go inside and get something hot to drink, and we can talk.” Before I left Australia, I’d been almost certain I’d take the coaching job, and within a few minutes of watching her I’d moved to one hundred percent certainty. Now it was up to Brick to broker a deal that we’d all be happy with.
We settled inside at one of the corner tables, my legs stretched out. Brick sat quietly, which was odd for him. They all looked at me as though I was a guru about to explain the meaning of life. We chatted for a little while, hashing out a few details about training, expectations, and whatnot until Daniel Evans rose with a broad smile and his hand outstretched. “Aspen, thank you. I really hope Mr. Mabrick can work out details to get you fully on board.”
I stood too and took his hand. “I’m sure he can. I’ll be in touch in the next few days.”
Gathering my things, I caught Stacey’s eye. “Until then, be careful up there, okay?”
Her grin was slow, charming and with a touch of cockiness. The kid was going to be a real heartbreaker. “Sure thing, coach.”
After they’d gone, Brick motioned for me to follow him out and once I’d collected the rest of my gear we made our way to the lot. We’d barely walked ten steps before he pounced. “I’m going to give it to you straight. They want you, and they don’t seem to care what conditions you put on it. Name the place you want to train her, the salary, and anything else. They’ll accommodate.”
“Yeah, I get that feeling but why me? Why so eager?”
One of his large hands came down to my shoulder and he rocked me gently. “Because you’re the best, and for her to succeed she needs someone who thinks like her.” He held up two crossed fingers. “The two of you? Peas in a pod.”
“Oh, man. The horror.” I bit my lip on a smile. “But she’s a lot calmer than I was at her age.” Understatement of the year. I’d been wildly competitive as a kid and back then did everything with the same amount of zeal. Skiing, arguing with my coaches and agent, chasing girls.
Brick grinned. “Well, I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but yeah you could be a real pain in the ass. So, what do you think?”
“I think she has a shitload of potential and the right attitude to go all the way. Frankly, I’m worried sick about her.”
Brick scuffed his boot through the slush. “So am I, Doll.”
Setting my arrogance aside, I was still the best person qualified to coach her. I knew this kid. I’d been this kid. I lifted my skis onto the racks atop the Land Rover. “I’ll take it and we’ll stay here. She’s already established and settled at school and I see no reason to move.” Stacey’s school accommodated her training, letting her take four afternoons off a week during the season. According to Brick, Stacey was a bright kid, and with some extra tutoring in the evenings and over summer, she should graduate with her classmates.
Brick nodded. “Done.”
“Salary, uh, the usual expenses and allowances with provisions for vacation. And you can pay me whatever you were paying O’Reilly, plus fifteen percent because I’m a far better coach and skier than he could ever be.” I didn’t need the money but the fifteen percent was an ego trip, and I did need that.
The smile was so broad, all Brick’s teeth were on display. “Done.” The way he smiled made me think I should have asked for twenty percent on top.
“Good, okay. We’ll keep the four days she already has scheduled plus Saturday morning. The morning gym sessions with the trainer are fine, but I want one compulsory absolute rest day every week, and we have to do whatever necessary to make sure she takes it.” Having spent a couple of hours with Stacey had confirmed my suspicions—the challenge wouldn’t be motivation, but getting her to moderate and let her body rest when needed. And ha
ve some normal teenage life stuff there as well.
“Deal.”
“Also, I want her to work with a nutritionist and physical therapist. She needs to take care of her body if she wants it to last.” I pulled my keys from my inside jacket pocket. “And she sees a sports psych, at least once a fortnight. That one’s not negotiable. She’s too talented to be screwed up like I was.”
The sunlight of his smile faded until his face was clouded. “You know, I’ve always regretted that with you. Should have seen it earlier. Should have fixed it.” He mussed my already mussed hair. “I’m real sorry, kid. For all of it.”
I shrugged. My resentment for what I’d turned myself into had never had a focus other than myself. It was over and nothing could be done about it now. “Not your fault, Brick. And besides, it’s all turning out okay. Let me know when the contract’s ready and I’ll get my lawyer to take a look.”
“It’ll be in your inbox by the end of the day.”
“Thought so.”
He offered his hand and I took it. After a quick shake, he pulled me in for a tight hug. “Great to be on a team with you again.”
Great to be on a team again, period.
Chapter Twenty
I checked my referral letter one more time to confirm the floor I needed for my early morning appointment with Doctor P. L. Maxwell. Before I’d left Australia I’d called my lead surgeon, Doctor Marks, and we’d discussed the pain management program Doctor Hopewell had started. Doctors Hopewell and Marks had corresponded, and Doctor Marks had arranged a consult with a pain management specialist in Denver. The way things were going I needed a flow chart to keep track of all my medical professionals, and I suspected there’d been a little bit of favor-trading from my surgeon to get this consult in before Christmas.