Elise looked out across the crowd now as they tried in vain to hit the high note accompanying “the land of free.” Between the bright lights of the stage and the constant motion of swaying, bundled bodies and waving flags, she couldn’t make out any faces. Not that it mattered. The only face she wanted to see wasn’t there to be found. Her empty chest seized. She hadn’t gotten everything she wanted. Not really. She might have achieved all of the goals she’d admitted to having, the dreams she’d chased in the open, but deep down, she desired something more. She wanted someone to share it all with. Hadn’t that been the point all along? She’d only ever skied to escape the pain, the division and strife. When had she let the race become the cause of the things she’d most feared?
Tears stung her eyes as the music faded, and this time instead of fighting them she gave in. No one would think less of her. They all expected her to be overcome with the emotions of the moment. Everyone watching in person and on television would suspect she’d been overwhelmed with pride and jubilation. None of them would believe she’d finally cracked under the burden of knowing, once and for all, that no amount of work or speed or accolades could change the fact that she was truly alone.
She waved to the crowd one time out of a sense of obligation, and allowed herself to be ushered off the stage. Everywhere, people offered praise and congratulations. Camera bulbs flashed, and she hoped she’d managed a facial expression resembling a smile, but she doubted it.
“Go to her,” someone whispered close by, and she turned to see Tigger standing beside her.
Her eyes went wide, and a sea of emotions rushed in where moments earlier she’d felt only emptiness. “Where did you—? How did you—? Why?” She couldn’t even form a complete question. Instead, she threw her arms around the girl and crushed her close.
They stayed there for a long moment as the kid made no move to pull away. She only patted Elise’s back with one hand and squeezed her waist with the other.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Elise finally managed.
“I didn’t want to miss it,” Tigger said, standing back. “It was hard enough watching the race on TV.”
“You watched the race?”
“We all did,” Tigger said. “You should have heard us screaming. I thought Nate was going to have a heart attack. He’s never that crazy during the snowboarding.”
“Wait,” Elise said, as the implications of the story sunk in. “All of you?”
Tigger’s smile softened, making her seem older. “All of us.”
Her heart beat faster again. She didn’t know if she felt better or worse, though. She certainly hadn’t earned that kind of loyalty. Not after the awful things she’d said.
“She looked like she was going to throw up until you crossed the finish line. And then—” She caught herself, her own allegiance to Corey likely stopping her from revealing too much. It didn’t matter, though. She didn’t have to say Corey was being ripped apart. She’d seen the hurt in her eyes, watched her reel from the impact of the knife Elise had stuck in her chest. And yet she’d taken it. She’d been ready to forgive her, to give her a free pass, because she cared so much she was willing to take the pain for her, and still Elise had treated her like she wasn’t good enough.
“It’s not as fun without you in the house, you know?”
She shook her head, trying to stay with the conversation around her as the walls caved inside. “I was never the fun one. You snowboarders always had a better handle on good times.”
“Yeah, well you’re part of our family, no matter what. You belong with us. So, I thought now that you’re done with the race and all, maybe you would come home.”
Home. Family. Belonging.
She’d never had those words directed at her before, and she didn’t feel worthy of them now. How could she go back after telling Corey she had no future? How could she ever make up for the choice she’d made? She wouldn’t be a returning hero. She would always be the one who sold them out when times got rough. Wouldn’t Corey forever feel like she’d taken second place to a cold hunk of medal? She couldn’t undo the damage she’d done anymore than she could ski backwards up the mountain. She’d said herself, every moment becomes the past. She’d missed her moment.
“I can’t,” she finally said. “I can’t go back.”
Tigger hung her head. “I guess I sort of expected that, but I had to try. I better go now, though. I have a race tomorrow.”
“Nikki,” Elise scolded, sounding much more like a mom to the kid again. “It’ll be after ten by the time you get back. I didn’t even think about your race. God, what’s come over you? How did your parents or even Nate let you out tonight?”
“I might not have told them I was coming all the way down here.” She did a poor job of looking chagrined.
“You really are a snowboarder, aren’t you? Always breaking the rules.”
“Bending them,” Tigger corrected with a grin so much like one of Corey’s that Elise’s heart hurt.
“Do you need a ride?”
“No, stay down here and enjoy your moment.” She pointed to the gold medal. “I bet you can write your own ticket to anywhere you want to go tonight.”
She doubted that. Where she wanted to go most wasn’t available to her, and the medal wouldn’t gain her access. It may forever be a symbol of the day that door closed. Still, the idea of access and tickets sparked an idea. “Actually, there’s one ticket I’d like to have.”
“Yeah? Which one?”
“Could you get me into the Snowboard-X finals tomorrow?”
Tigger’s smile grew wide once more. “Sure. I mean, I could call Holly right now.”
“No,” Elise said quickly. “I’d rather she and Corey not know I’m there. I got to have my moment, for better or for worse. I don’t want to intrude on Corey’s.”
“I think she’d be happy to see you.”
Elise didn’t want to disagree with her, but she couldn’t take the risk. “I’ve caused enough turmoil for now. I’d rather not risk taking away from her day. I just want to be there.”
“Sure,” Tigger said. “I’ll get them to Paolo in the morning.”
“Thanks,” Elise pulled her close and squeezed her tightly once more. “Now get out of here, and good luck tomorrow.”
Elise watched her go with a slight smile on her face. Who would’ve thought the kid would end up being the one to say the right thing at the right moment? She hadn’t exactly offered an answer, but a little bit of her hope and faith must’ve rubbed off, because Elise now had the chance to see Corey again. She wouldn’t get to hold her or kiss her, or even try to offer any apology, but she would see her. She could cheer for her. She could begin to show her one ounce of the support Corey had lavished on her, and maybe, just maybe, she could do so without pressuring either of them to be anything other than exactly what they were in the moment.
It wasn’t the kind of dream that had powered and sustained her for years. She wouldn’t be a hero. If all went well, she’d be only an anonymous face in the crowd. She’d set the bar lower than ever and still had doubts about her ability to clear it, but damned if it didn’t already feel better than standing on the podium all alone.
Chapter 19
“She’s still third,” Nate said as the camera view switched from a high-banked turn to the flat section before a massive jump. “She’s not going to pick up speed over the table top.”
“She’s got to get them on the turn,” Corey said.
“She’s got to set up better.”
“She’s got to go lower, off the jump.”
“She’s too amped up to kill speed.”
“No.” Corey slapped him on the back. “We worked on this with her.”
“But will she be able to pull it off out there on the big stage?”
Tigger hit the jump a second behind the leaders and lifted her chest as both of the riders ahead of her curled into a tuck.
“There she goes,” Corey shouted.
&nb
sp; “Inside, inside,” Nate called as if she could hear him down the course or through the TV screen.
The camera angle switched again, showing Tigger in the middle of the pack, rubbing elbows and edges as no one wanted to give way, but as they broke out of the turn and into the final stretch, she edged the nose of her board into second place and managed to hold on for dear life as they all broke the plane of the finish line.
“She did it.” Corey stepped outside the tent and fell exhausted to the snow.
“Are you sure? Nate asked, still staring at the screen “They’re going to replay it.”
“No need,” Corey said. “I know. I always know.”
He didn’t argue the point. Instead he followed her outside and sat down more gingerly. “She cut that too close for my liking.”
“Yeah, but she did the right thing. Top two advance to the finals. There was no need to pull out the big guns yet.”
“She raced a good race, technically, but she’s going to have to do better in the final.”
“Is that what you told her about me?” Corey asked, staring up at the bright blue sky.
Nate didn’t answer right away, which told her everything she needed to know.
“It’s okay,” she finally said. “I know I haven’t given anyone much cause to celebrate lately.”
“Hey, you’re in an Olympic final.”
“Only because the two riders ahead of me crashed in the semi.”
“You might have caught them anyway.”
She rolled over to stare at him. “Why you blowing smoke, Nato?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “They burned you out of the gate. You lost in the first three hundred yards.”
“Does it hurt you to watch something like that?” she asked, honestly interested.
“It’s a helpless sort of feeling.”
“I never thought about it before, but watching Elise, and then the kid out there, it’s hard work in a different kind of way.”
He nodded. “It makes me feel like a parent sometimes. You can hold their hand for a while and teach them to look both ways, but you know someday they’re going to have to cross a street without you, and you can’t make them see the cars.”
She stared at him, shocked at the amount of insight and emotion behind the comment. “Did you think I jumped out in front of a bus this morning?”
He grinned. “It felt a little bit like that, yeah, but you came out unscathed.”
“Did I?” she asked, leaning back again. The cold of the snow seeping through her ski pants did little to cool the nerves burning up her insides. “What good does it do to earn a spot you didn’t deserve?”
“What?”
“I didn’t race well. I got in on a technicality.”
“Bullshit.” His tone changed from exhausted to angry. “The mountain giveth and the mountain taketh away, dude. When did ‘deserving’ ever come into play? You have to make the most of the chances you’re given.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“No.” He kicked her boot lightly with his own. “You know. You fight back harder than anyone else out there, or at least you used to.”
“Yeah, I used to fight. I have been great. I was—”
“Oh, fuck that.” He swatted a handful of snow in her face. “I’ve stayed out of the whole Elise thing, because romance and women and not my business, but don’t bring that weak shit onto my course.”
Corey sat up and wiped the snow from her cheeks. “I didn’t even mention Elise.”
“You didn’t have to. You’ve been moping around since she walked out on you.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” he shot back. “Maybe you were an ass, maybe she was, maybe you guys suck as a couple, I don’t know. But I do know the Olympics are a freaking pressure cooker.”
She didn’t argue with him there. “She and I have been in a pressure cooker from day one, and it’s not going to change anytime soon.”
“So?”
“Maybe I’m tired. Maybe I’m over it. Maybe it’s not worth it anymore, but the thought of being under that kind of stress for the rest of my life isn’t appealing.”
“Who said anything about the rest of your life?”
“She kept talking about the future and all her plans and dreams. Where does someone like me fit into that? I’m barely hanging on race by race here.”
“Nothing lasts forever,” he said matter-of-factly. “When you won junior worlds all those years ago, did you honestly think we’d still be doing this when we were thirty?”
“You’re thirty-two.”
He laughed. “Exactly. We’ve been living on borrowed time for over a decade.”
“And what? Now it’s over?”
“I didn’t say that,” he answered quickly. “I didn’t even mean to imply it, but at some point we started thinking of this lifestyle as normal instead of always looking forward to the next adventure.”
She didn’t reply. When had the next race become some foregone conclusion? When had she started fearing what came next instead of charging forward to greet it with open arms? Why all the talk of endings and not anticipation of new challenges?
“Elise said I was scared of the future.”
“Let me guess. She mentioned that while asking for some sort of commitment?”
Corey replayed the conversation. “No, she said she couldn’t give up her future for someone who didn’t want to go there with her.”
“And then you said you did want to go there with her?” Nate asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“No, she said I didn’t have a future. She said I was washed up.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, that one still burns.”
“Did you argue with her?”
Corey shook her head sadly. “How do you argue with that? I honestly don’t know what my future looks like, but it’s clearly not as bright as hers. I couldn’t ask her to put her life on hold while I figure my shit out. And now the difference between us is even bigger. She’s got her medal now. She’s going to be busier and more popular than ever, while I’m still a risky investment with no real future in sight.”
“No future?” Nate asked. “You really got nothing after this?”
She rolled over onto her stomach, barely resisting the urge to bury her head in the snow. That was the million-dollar question she kept kicking farther down the line, but what did it matter? Corey hadn’t been able to give Elise the assurance she’d needed when she’d needed it most. Maybe she’d been a coward in the moment, but that moment had certainly become the past now and she’d moved on.
“Dude, are you okay?”
She nodded slowly.
“Seriously? Because it looks like you might lose your lunch.”
She sort of felt that way, too, but before she could answer, Tigger hopped off a snowmobile and made a beeline for them.
“The kid’s back,” she said, jumping up and jogging over to meet her. Nate followed close behind, and they both pulled her into a huge hug that involved a little bouncing and a lot of laughing.
“That was a hell of race,” Nate finally said.
Nikki blushed and smiled. “I learned the little pull-back move from you guys.”
“Damn right you did,” Corey said proudly.
“But I didn’t get the position I wanted into turn three. My line’s not right,” she said, then her eyes widened. “Not that I’m asking for help.”
Corey and Nate exchanged a confused look.
“We’re both in the same final,” Tigger said.
“Oh,” Corey said. She was right. They probably shouldn’t talk about the course. In less than an hour they’d have to battle each other for the biggest prize in the sport, quite possibly Corey’s last shot at that prize.
“I know you two have to make a game plan, and I’m not part of that,” Tigger continued. “I can go now. I just wanted to say good luck.”
Corey searched the emotions rattling
around her chest. What did it all mean? Especially in the new light of endings, or the prospect for different beginnings. For the first time in her life, she let herself think about the end result, about a legacy, about the doors that would once again swing open for her with a fresh hunk of gold around her neck, and she wanted to win more than she ever had.
But at what cost? What price would she pay to cross the finish line first? Would she be willing to hoard Nate? Would she be willing to set herself not next to Tigger, but against her? What would something like that feel like long-term? Her chest tightened at the thought of turning another friend into an adversary, and she shook her head.
“Fuck that.”
“What?” Nate and Tigger both asked.
“Once we hit the course, we’re both going to ride our asses off, but until we get into the gate, we’re friends first. Hell, we’re family.”
“Aww.” Nate laughed. “You’re getting mushy in your old age.”
“Maybe I’m following your advice and thinking about what’s going to make me happy in the long run. I already lost one person this week because I was afraid of the bigger picture. I won’t do it again.” Corey threw an arm around each of their shoulders and tried not to picture the tears in Elise’s eyes as she asked if Corey intended to fight for her. “If I’m going out, I’m not going out scared. I’m going out on my terms.”
Chapter 20
Elise flipped up the hood of her coat, a regular one, not the official team USA jacket. She also used the bright, clear day as an excuse to wear her sunglasses. She’d chosen jeans and a boring, everyday pair of snow boots. She didn’t want to do anything to draw attention away from Corey or the main event. She even split up with Paolo long before arriving at the spectator section near the finish line, both out of fear he’d be recognized, or that he’d rather be with Holly than her right now. Lord knows, he’d earned some time off after the week she’d put him through.
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