by Erika Kelly
Chapter Nineteen
Standing inside the tent, ready for his final run, Will felt the biting cold in a way he never had before. Maybe he’d just been used to the cold or maybe he’d always been so focused on visualizing his tricks, but he couldn’t remember ever noticing it. Not like this.
It felt like a couple of layers of skin had been stripped off, leaving him exposed, vulnerable.
Gray clapped him on the shoulder. “Did you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“Damien got an eighty-nine. Dropping last run’s score, he’s got a ninety-one overall.”
“Hope he got a nice selfie,” one of the other competitors said. “Since he’s never coming to Freefest again. What kind of jerk-off invites the press to an event like this?”
“He wouldn’t come back anyway,” Will said. “This isn’t what he does. He’s a showboater. He likes the attention.”
His coach entered the tent, giving him a chin nod. “You’re up.” His phone vibrated, and he rolled his eyes. “Never should’ve brought the wife and kid with me, man.” He turned away to take the call.
The wife and kid. Just the thought of Ruby crunched his heart like a tin can. Walking out that door five days ago had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.
She was fine, though. He checked in with his family every day, and his sister was surrounded by people who loved her and would look out for her.
I miss her. He’d left his heart behind, tucked under her pillow. Most times, when he closed his eyes, he saw those little shoulders hunched, that apologetic expression. “I dus wike you, Wheel. I dus do.”
Another clap on the shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. “Hey.” Gray held his poles. When Will reached for them, his brother yanked them away. “You’re not going out there if your head’s not in it.”
“No, I’m good.” He wiped thoughts of Ruby out of his head. He’d already scrubbed out Delilah. All it took was an image of her in a conference room with Romano. He knew her, knew she’d turn it into a lunch meeting. Wow him with her food. She’s right where she needs to be. He shook it off and grabbed his poles.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, then. Let’s do this.”
Tuning out his brother and shutting the door on the mess of his personal life, Will skied over to the starting block. He stood there for a moment, visualizing the take-off, and then scissored his skis in the fresh, crunchy snow.
I got this.
He pushed off and slid down toward the rails. Pulling in his arms, he picked up speed, gearing up for the first set. One…two…three…he popped the lip.
Don’t hook an edge. Go, go, go.
He started rotating. One-eighty. Go, go, perfect. Yes. Three-sixty. Right when he hit Cab 3, he spotted his landing. Got it.
And…fuck yes. He’d stomped it.
The wall came at him in a rush, and he soared up it. His body tensed, shoulder ready to pull back, knees ready to lift. Wait. Wait. Wait—now. Will caught air, his right hand grabbing the ski behind his leg, the left gripping near the binding in front. Pulling his knees in, he held on hard for one…two…tighter, man, pull in tighter…three.
Fuckin’ A, man. Corkin’ it hard.
He let go of the grab, and it couldn’t have felt sweeter.
Sailing up the other wall, he pulled in his knees, threw his shoulder back and took off. One-eighty…spot it, man, fucking spot it…spin tighter…three-sixty…spot it, spot it…one more…push, push…come on…keep it tight…there…He came in backwards. Perfect.
Racing toward the ramp, Will ripped off the jump and pulled in tight…grabbed the ski…and shot into space. He let his muscles do what they’d trained seventeen years for and flipped and spun, pulling his skis in tight…and then—spot it—spot it—he fucking landed.
Nailed it.
Energy crashed through him, and he pumped his poles as he skied down the rest of the course. Couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Fuck, yeah.
Sliding in close to the gathered crowd, he turned his thighs in, slowing to an easy stop.
“Dude, that was epic,” someone called, laughing.
“You stomped it, man.”
“Will, look over here,” a man with a press pass said.
As his friends swarmed him, he ignored the reporter who had no business being there. Damien had fucked up big-time inviting the press to this event. The freestyle community would shut him out now.
Buzzing hard, Will just wanted to hear his scores. Cameras everywhere, questions flying at him, he popped off his skis and checked the scoreboard.
All of a sudden, the crowd went wild. His coach broke through the crowd. “Ninety-eight. You won.”
“Dude, you just won Freefest.”
“You’re the undisputed halfpipe champion of the world.”
And it would feel great—he’d be elated—if it weren’t for the unbearable ache in his chest.
* * *
“You coming, man?” Gray stood in the doorway of Will’s bedroom in the cabin he and a few of the other competitors had rented on the mountain.
Fixated on the laptop screen, he barely looked up. “I’ll catch up with you.”
“You sure?” Gray stood there, waiting for an answer.
Will knew his brother would drop his plans and hang out with him if that’s what he needed. “Just checking in at home. I’ll be right behind you.” As he waited for the call to connect, he heard the guys in the living room pregaming for a night of debauchery. Might be a small town, but it had a lively bar scene.
When it connected, Fin’s face took up the screen. “Saw your runs, man. Well done. Congratulations.”
“Shame about that last rotation.” Brodie pushed into the frame. “Guess you got a little tuckered out.”
“Shut the f—”
“Wheel?” Ruby shrieked and little feet slapped on the kitchen floor. “Dat you, Wheel?” She slipped under Fin’s arm and climbed onto his lap, forcing her way between his chest and the kitchen table. Fin was cracking up, and Ruby stared at the screen like Santa had just offered her a week-vacation at the North Pole.
“Wheel.” Relief saturated her tone, as her hand touched the screen.
“Hi, sweetheart.” His heart beat so thick and hard he thought it might explode. “Ruby.” He just needed to say her name out loud.
“Come home, Wheel? Come home to Wooby?”
“I—” He looked into those earnest blue eyes, filled with hope and trust, and everything he’d believed about life—structure and focus, rules and restraint—fell away.
He’d clung to all of that when his mom had left him behind. It had helped. Replaced the fear with something constructive. But he didn’t need—or want—it anymore.
After his win, dozens of athletes had gathered around to celebrate him, swearing they’d known all along he hadn’t cheated, shouting that he was the best skier in the world—and it hadn’t moved the meter.
Now that Ruby and Delilah had gifted him with a whole new dimension to life, all the accolades felt hollow.
He looked at his little girl, and he knew. No, he wasn’t her dad. But so what?
So fucking what? It just didn’t matter. He was all-in. “I have one stop to make before I come home, but I’ll be back this weekend.”
“You don’t have to do that, it’s my turn,” Fin said.
“Thanks for watching her for me while I was out of town, but I’m coming home to my girl.”
Fin’s eyes widened, and Ruby’s smile turned ebullient. He wouldn’t get her hopes up, but he hoped the next time he saw her, he’d have a special gift for her. For them.
The last time he’d seen Delilah, she’d wanted to sit down and talk to him, and he hadn’t let her. Instead, he’d asked her to go.
Ever since then, it had been grinding through him. What if they’d talked? What if he’d told her he loved her so much he’d do anything to be with her? They might’ve found a way to stay together, but he’d never
gotten to find out because he’d pushed her out the door.
But, now, the answer seemed so simple. She shouldn’t give up this amazing opportunity to run her own franchise, so he’d move to New York.
Whatever it took for them to be together, he’d make it happen, because he’d never love anyone the way he loved that woman. In his heart he knew—he fucking knew—they were a family. Delilah owned him heart and soul. Ruby, too.
“Home to Wooby?”
“That’s right, sweet pea. I’m coming home to Ruby.”
* * *
Will stowed his duffle bag in the luggage compartment before settling into his seat. When he pulled his phone out of his back pocket, it leaped out of his hands, and he had to squat to find it.
Funny how he could dub cork, ten blunt without a single frayed nerve, but going to New York to get his girl had his stomach in knots.
He only found it, because it started vibrating. He checked the screen but didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Will? This is Coach Davis.”
Awareness pierced through the anxiety, situating him firmly in the moment. The U.S. Halfpipe ski coach would only be calling for one reason.
“Hey.” He probably shouldn’t have sounded so blasé.
The man laughed. “Hey. Listen, congratulations on your outstanding performance at Freefest. I know I never should have seen it, but I did, and I want you on the team.”
Will kicked off his untied boots and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Well, I appreciate the offer, but I’ve been banned from the sport.”
“You didn’t hear?” He sounded surprised. “Your name’s been cleared.”
“No, I hadn’t.” He’d gone straight to the private airport and boarded his plane, only one thought on his mind: getting to Delilah.
“There’s zero evidence supporting Damien’s accusations. Besides, your performance in Freefest puts any doubts to rest. In any event, I’ve known you and your family a long time, and I never questioned your integrity. Look, I know you’re probably celebrating, so I won’t keep you on the phone. I’ll have Cliff send you the competition schedule. We’re going to start training at the Utah center in two weeks, so I’ll talk to you more then.”
His uncle was right. On some level, Will had thought winning a gold medal would be the sure-fire way to make his mom see him as a good man. That it would make her love him. But Will was done with that. He no longer gave two shits what she thought of him. He cared about being the best damn brother to Ruby and the best damn husband to Delilah he could be.
He remembered that morning when Delilah and Ruby had come running towards him with cookie dough on their fingers, their bright, clever eyes shining, as they burst out laughing. He felt it all the way down to the soles of his feet, his body alive, electrified. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
If he wanted to honor his dad, he simply needed to be a good man. If he needed to prove something to himself, he’d already done it with his seven medals.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’m officially retired.”
Delilah reached for her pen and crossed out penne. She really loved the ribbony look of the pappardelle noodle in the bowl, so she’d use that instead. Flipping to the next page in her notebook, she scanned the braised bison recipe. Her taste buds lit up at the thought of adding marjoram and hazelnuts, so she noted those additions. Yes. Better.
That one’s a winner.
On the next page, she really loved the confit goose, peach, butter lettuce, and dried cranberry salad, but she crossed out peach and put in fig. Not only did she like fresh figs, but she’d like to give the owner of the hydroponic farm the business.
She turned to the kouneli stifado recipe; that was her favorite dish. Not changing a thing about that one. Well, she’d use quail instead of rabbit. The Tale of Peter Rabbit and all. Her mom used to read her those books.
“Hey.” Her sister pushed open the door with a big box. Looking around the crowded office, she said, “Where can I put this?”
“What is it?”
Bree set it on the desk, on top of a pile of invoices. “You were talking about making those mixed media pieces using some of Mom and Dad’s things, so I brought you some stuff from home.”
“Really?” She got up to hug her sister. “Thank you so much.” Peering into the box, she saw her parent’s wedding picture. They’d gotten married at the city clerk’s office on Worth Street in the late seventies. Her mom had tamed all her long blonde hair into a conservative bun, while her dad wore a short-sleeve button down, jeans, and flip flops.
The day after tomorrow, when she went back for the final event, she’d bring all this stuff with her. Give them to Callie to see what she could do with them. It would be nice décor for the new franchise, a mix of memorabilia from Nonna Abelli’s era to the new generation. “This is amazing.” When she looked up, she found her sister reading her notebook.
“What is this?” Her sister didn’t look angry so much as worried.
“It’s not for Da Nonna’s, don’t worry.”
“Then what’s it for?”
“My menu for the final competition.” She suspected her family wanted her focused on the proposal she needed to put together for Dino Romano, but that would have to wait. Her top priority was the competition. “No matter what happens here, I still want to win.” They were really good recipes, though. Shame not to use them.
“Sure, yeah. It’ll be good promotion for the new franchise.”
The meeting had gone well, and her family seemed excited about the potential to expand their brand. But Delilah hadn’t given an answer. She suggested they talk more when she got back from Calamity.
Because it was hard to concentrate when the rhythm of her heart beat in synch with Will’s.
“Bison?” Her sister flipped a few more pages. “Kouneli stifado?”
“Yeah, well, it’s pretty much anything goes out there. Well, as long as it involves meat.”
Her sister didn’t return her smile. “These look really good, keiki.”
“Honestly, I think I have a real chance of winning.” She reached for the document she’d printed out. “I finished the proposal. Not that the judges care—it’s only for the chefs who want to be considered for the spa restaurant—but I’m turning mine in anyway.” It’s that good.
Her sister set the notebook down. “Why would you do that? You’re not taking the job, so wouldn’t it be unfair to mislead them?”
“They might not choose any of us, but at least I can give them my ideas.” And let someone else run with them? “All of my products are locally sourced and sustainably grown, and I’m using the names of local outlaws for the dishes...” Each word that came out of her mouth tugged the string that tightened her sister’s features. “Never mind.”
“No, that sounds great, Delilah.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I invited a group of local chefs, farmers, and ranchers over to the house for a tasting party Wednesday night.” She really didn’t want to miss that. “Just to try out all the dishes so I could tweak them before the competition.”
Her sister couldn’t hide the pain in her eyes.
“Delilah?” One of the waiters leaned into the room. “The Sullivans want to say hey.”
Stepping around her sister, she smoothed her chef’s jacket. “Sure. I’ll do that now.” She turned to Bree. “You going to hang around?”
Her sister nodded but looked defeated.
On her way out of the kitchen, she stopped to taste the sauce from the line cook she’d hired last spring. He insisted on adding chopped fresh basil and pepper. She’d give him one more chance, and then he’d have to go.
No, the irony was not lost on her. She’d become her brother.
As she entered the dining room, several patrons looked up with welcoming smiles. They loved private visits from the chef, and her dad had made sure they all respected that tradition. She stopped at the table of an elderly couple who’d been regulars f
or as long as Delilah had been old enough to remember.
“Mrs. Sullivan, Mr. Sullivan, so nice to see you.” She shook both of their bony hands, the skin like parchment paper. “How is everything tonight?”
“Oh, we’re just in heaven. The alfredo’s out of this world. We’re thrilled that we happened to come in the night you’re back in the kitchen. The food’s just not the same without you.”
Delilah’s smile faltered. Actually, it was. It was exactly the same. Against her brother’s wishes, she’d been adding special touches to the old standards for years. The new franchise would only sanction what she’d been doing all along.
But she didn’t want to put Jicama in the house salad. She wanted to make kouneli stifado and wild boar ragù.
She loved her family—of course she did, but she missed Calamity, the town, the people, the mountain lifestyle.
Ruby.
And being away from Will was killing her. She craved him. Every minute of every day.
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it.” She couldn’t keep ignoring the insistent voice, the one that told her exactly where she belonged. The potential for success with Dino Romano was enormous, but it wouldn’t satisfy her soul. And what did success matter if she didn’t have the man she loved? “Can I tempt you with a creamy rose panna cotta tonight?”
“Oh, that sounds divine.”
“My gift to you for being so devoted to us all these years.” Heart pounding, she excused herself and hurried back into the kitchen.
She would always be close with her family. They’d be with her anywhere she went.
But her heart lived somewhere else.
She made a bee-line across the busy kitchen, desperate to get back to her office and change her flight. She’d started something good, special, in Calamity. Something that was uniquely hers. And she wanted it.
She hoped to God her family would understand.
As she entered the office, her sister looked up from Delilah’s notebook. “I told them.”
“You told them what?”
“This isn’t right for you.” Bree gestured around the room. “But they’d already given the franchise to Jeannie, and they couldn’t take it back. They didn’t know how else to get you home, so when Mr. Romano called, it seemed like the perfect solution. But it’s not right for you.” She waved the notebook. “You’re so creative. You have a gift. And I’m not sure swapping out mascarpone for lemon curd in the tiramisu is going to be enough for you.” She set the notebook down and cupped Delilah’s elbows. “I don’t want to lose you, but even more, I want you to be happy.”