Still, she felt alone and out of place as she scooted across the cold metal bleachers. She hadn’t been able to shake the sense of isolation since her race the day before. Instead of getting better, the excitement all around only magnified her disconnect. Everyone had someone to share the thrill of the moment with but her.
“Elise,” called a friendly voice, and without thinking she lifted her head. As soon as she did, she cursed herself and her damned, lonely impulses, because a young woman wearing a press badge holding a cordless microphone caught her eye.
The woman smiled broadly and practically used people’s shoulders as stepstools to climb up through the crowd. “I knew you’d be here.”
“Really?” Elise asked drolly, trying to remind herself she’d been pouting about being alone a moment earlier. In the future, she’d be more careful about the wishes she sent to the universe.
“Of course.” The woman settled beside her, angling her body to face Elise instead of the course. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions.”
“I’d rather you not. I’m here as a spectator today.”
The reporter either didn’t hear her, or simply didn’t care, because she nodded to a camera operator standing at the end of the row and pressed hard on her earpiece before leaning into the microphone and saying, “I’ve got Elise Brandeis here minutes before the women’s Snowboard-X finals. Or I guess I should say, Olympic Gold medalist Elise Brandeis, right?”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. She’d waited her whole life for the title only to have the phrase grate on her nerves. “No, I’m just Elise right now. I’m here as a fan.”
“A fan of one finalist in particular, right?” The reported waggled her finely sculpted eyebrows.
“Actually, I’m friends with two of the finalists. I’ve trained with both Nikki Prince and Corey LaCroix.”
“But rumor has it you’re also dating Corey.”
Her face flamed. She’d never had to answer questions about her personal life, and she certainly didn’t want to start now, but she also couldn’t bring herself to deny Corey publicly, not after all the other horrible things she’d already said. She shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Corey’s a very special friend.”
“Just a friend?” The reporter pushed.
“I wouldn’t say just a friend, because that implies there’s something lacking in her friendship. It’s reductive, and anyone who’s ever taken the time to get to know Corey realizes she can’t be reduced to one term or another. She’s an amazing athlete, a great training partner, a caring, kind, and thoughtful person who also has one of the strongest competitive drives I’ve witnessed.”
“Stronger than yours?”
Elise shook her head. “Purer than mine. When she pushes herself or the people around her, it’s because she loves what she does. She gives everything to the moment. She doesn’t lose track of what’s important. She doesn’t let winning get in the way of who she is. She never asks what she has to gain or what she has to lose. She does what needs to be done, and she does it with a smile.”
“Sounds like she’s made quite an impression on you.”
Elise sighed. “She has. I wish I were more like her. I let my priorities get way out of line.”
“Obviously not too far out of line.” The reporter laughed. “You have a shiny new gold medal to show for your efforts.”
“A medal I wouldn’t have won without Corey. I wouldn’t have even made the team without her support, and it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“The medal doesn’t matter,” the reporter repeated slowly, her eyes wide in shock, as the camera operator made a hand motion for her to keep going. “If you could say anything to Corey right now as she gets ready to race, what bits of winning advice would you impart?”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing I can tell Corey about winning that she doesn’t already know. She doesn’t need my advice. She doesn’t need anything from me. She’s out of my league. I hope she knows that, and I hope she knows I know that.”
“Wow,” said the reporter. “Quite a statement of friendship there. What’s next for you after these Olympic Games?”
“I’m not focused on the future right now. I’ve already wasted too much time looking too far ahead,” Elise said. “I want to make the most of the moment and try to show Corey one-tenth of the support she’s given me.”
“There you go, folks,” she said, turning to face the camera, “Elise Brandeis living in the moment and cheering on Corey LaCroix in the Snowboard-X finals, as soon as we come back.”
The camera operator lowered the lens to signal they were no longer live.
“Thanks, Elise,” the reported said, hopping up. “I’ve got to get down to the finish line, but you were fantastic. The people back home will love it. You’re made for prime time.”
“Prime time?” she asked absently.
“Yeah. NBC, prime-time Olympic coverage.”
Her stomach churned. What had she done? She dropped her head into her hands as the reporter crawled over several people to get away. She’d all but recited a love poem for Corey on international television. Corey, who didn’t want to make a statement. Corey, who hated the press. Corey, who needed to focus on her race. God, why couldn’t she do anything right? Every time she opened her mouth, she made things worse. Her only solace was Corey wouldn’t see the interview until after her race ended.
• • •
Corey stared at the television screen in the tent long after the coverage had gone to commercial. She couldn’t believe what she’d seen. The woman on the screen couldn’t have been more different from the woman who’d walked out on her days earlier.
The gold medal didn’t matter? Had she actually said that on national TV? She was here. She was in the stands. Corey’s heart raced and her head spun to the point that her vision blurred. Elise hadn’t given up on her. She told the whole world she had her priorities out of line. And yet she had her gold medal. Was it easier to come back for Corey after she already had everything else she wanted? Now that her future was secure on its own, she didn’t have to worry about Corey getting in the way. And yet, an interview like the one she’d just given could certainly get in the way of endorsements and ad deals. She’d publicly tied herself irrevocably to someone the press saw as a hotshot, philandering, reckless playgirl. They would paint Elise as an airhead or a victim all over again, and after all the work she’d put in to change the story away from Corey and back onto her accomplishments.
She tried to run her hands through her hair, but she’d forgotten she had her helmet on. She’d forgotten where she was and what she had to do. None of this made any sense. She needed more information. She needed answers. She needed to get to Elise.
Turning around, fully prepared to make a break for it, she took only three steps before she ran into Nate and Tigger.
“Whoa.” Nate grabbed both her shoulders while Tigger hooked an arm around her waist.
“Riders to your gates,” an official called.
“It’s time, dude,” Nate said.
She blinked a few times, hoping to clear the haze from her head. “Time for what?”
“Your race,” Nate shouted.
A wave of nausea surged through her. “I can’t race right now.”
“You have to.”
“I have to talk to Elise,” she said, as if stating her need for air.
“You can talk to her after.”
“No. I have to go now. She’s there. She’s saying all these things. I don’t know. Did you hear?”
“Yeah. She all but told the world she loves you and wants to have your little snowboarding babies. I hope you name them all ‘Nate,’ but right now you need to get into your gate.”
“I’m sorry. I know what you’re saying is right, but I can’t process anything. None of this makes sense. She has her medal. She has everything she wanted. I have nothing. What if I’m like some Olympic parting gift and the next time things get hard she’s going to dump me again?”
>
Nate opened his mouth to argue, but Tigger beat him to the punch, literally. She slugged Corey hard across her shoulder. “Pull yourself together, you idiot.”
The comment was so uncharacteristically forceful it cut through Corey’s rising doubts and panic.
“She’s at the finish line, dummy. The quickest way there is straight down,” she said, then spelled it out even more clearly. “Get. In. The. Gate.”
Nate nodded vigorously. “She’s right. Go, go go.”
Corey nodded. Yes, the course. That was the best way down. She quickly ratcheted the board straps across her boots and hopped into place. She didn’t think about her form or her position. Her body knew what to do, even as her mind fixated on the sole goal of getting to Elise.
A countdown must’ve occurred, but she didn’t hear it. She didn’t even see the other riders as the gates dropped. She sprang into action like an arrow from a bow, straight on a line to her target.
She must’ve made a great start, because she rocketed into the first turns with no one blocking her view. She took the lowest line around a giant s-turn and then leaned in to pick up speed toward a steep incline to a table top. Instead of tapping down onto the flat, she soared over the entire feature and curled low to regain her momentum before the next turn. She occasionally heard the scrape of boards as the other riders wrestled for position, but their presence was only relevant in the ways it might affect her line toward the finish.
She reached the rollers and effortlessly hopped the first two, then pumped her legs through the rest, feeling no pain, only purpose. Her muscles and joints felt years younger as she roared into the next set of turns. Only when she came out the other side did she catch the flash of a red-bibbed rider beside her. She didn’t care about being passed, but if someone had made up ground on her, it meant she could milk more speed out of her run, so that’s what she’d do. No one would beat her to Elise.
The wind whistled through her ear and bit at her face, but she bit back with everything she had, digging her edge in to break hard right as they passed the midway point. She established herself inside once more as she cleared another massive jump. Clutching her board in the air for stability, she wrenched her body into position to land, already leaning into the final series of turns. Weight on her back foot, she dropped down with a little thud, then immediately crouched low, both hands in front of her lead foot.
The crowd flew by in a blur as the noise from the finish line grew louder. She banked hard around the last bend, but not even the g-forces could pin her down. She felt weightless as the stands came into view. For a second she envisioned herself veering off-course, trying to flip up and over the grandstand railing like she used to do on the skateboard back home. The only thing stopping her was that she’d have to surrender speed to take that angle. Instead, she leaned forward once more, her eyes flicking quickly to the right, trying to find Elise, but the only thing she could make out through the wiz of the sidelines flying by was the front tip of Tigger’s board.
She smiled broadly. Of course the kid kept up. She wouldn’t want to miss out on an adventure. It was just the two of them flying toward a reunion, slicing through all the things that had come between them like their edges cut through the snow. If Elise could outrun her problems, Corey would outride their separation.
The finish line loomed large as they barreled toward the end, but she couldn’t summon any sense of tension pertaining to the race. She wasn’t in competition with anyone else in this moment. No grind, no press, no pressure. Everything was beautiful and purposeful and full of promise. She glanced down to see her board cross the red line in the snow, and laughed almost hysterically as the sense of peace washed over her.
She skidded to a stop and threw off her goggles as the joy poured out of her, laughter, tears, shaking muscles, heaving chest. She couldn’t get out of her bindings fast enough, but when she did, she kicked the board aside and ran to the snow fence, then skidded to a stop at the edge of the grandstand, searched the excited, screaming faces until she found the one that had driven her down the mountain.
“Elise,” she called when her eyes met the piercing blues she sought. She began to climb the safety railing like a ladder until she heard Holly shouting.
“Corey, get down. Don’t kill yourself before you get the medal.”
“Fuck the medal,” Corey said and kept climbing. “I need to talk to Elise.”
“She’s going to get fined for saying ‘fuck’ on TV.” Paolo laughed.
“She’s going to break her neck,” Holly said.
“Corey,” Elise finally yelled, causing Corey to freeze and lift her head. “Stay there. I’ll come down to you.”
She watched as Elise worked her way down the bleachers with the help of fans parting ways and offering her a hand, or sometimes even a lift. She reached the walkway as Corey grabbed the top rung of the railing.
Elise caught her face in her hands and stared into her eyes. “You’re insane.”
Corey grinned. “You didn’t mention that to the reporter.”
Elise shook her head. “How do you know?”
“I saw your interview.”
“Where?”
“Up top, in the tent, there was a TV.”
“You were watching TV before a race?”
“I heard your voice.”
“You should’ve focused on your moment.”
Corey laughed. “I came all the way down here to see you, and I think I might’ve won a gold medal in the process. Are you scolding me right now?”
Elise’s face turned a delightful shade of pink. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” The width of Corey’s smile hurt her cheeks. “You can scold me if you need to.”
“No.” Elise’s expression turned serious. “I mean, I’m sorry for everything. All the awful things I said to you. Walking out the way I did. Instead of admitting how scared I was, I let you accept all the blame.”
“Well, you were pretty harsh,” Corey admitted even though she couldn’t stop smiling.
“Worse than harsh. I was horrendous, and more importantly, I was wrong. Totally, one hundred percent wrong. What I had with you was worth more than a medal. I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for not seeing that sooner. God, everything I said about you should’ve been said about me. I was the one who was scared. I was stupid. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. If you can trust me again, I promise I can do better.”
“Well . . .” Corey drew out the word. “I’m glad to hear you say that, but I can’t totally agree with you.”
Elise hung her head. “I’m too late. I don’t blame you for not being able to forgive me.”
Corey shook her head, “That’s not what I mean. I mean I can’t agree with you being wrong about everything. You were right about at least part of it. I was scared of the future. I’ve never known a time without snowboarding. I’ve never had a five-year plan. And I didn’t know if I could live up to all your ideals. I worried about dragging you down. Then the press agreed. They reinforced that I was over the hill and out of my league with you.”
“The press is full of idiots,” Elise snapped.
Corey laughed again. “We agree on that at least, but when you said my living-in-the-moment attitude was a way of not having to deal with my future, you were right.”
“You have a bright future,” Elise said. “Think about what you just did. You won.”
“What I did had nothing to do with winning. I raced to you. I needed to see you and talk to you and touch you, more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you,” Corey said seriously. “Because for the first time I want to think about the future so long as it’s with you. Because snowboarding has never been about winning or records. It’s always been about the thrill of racing toward adventure, and now you’re my next big adventure. I don’t care if all of this falls apart tomorrow, but I don’t want to end up alone and without a purpose.”
“But what about your dreams?”
“You’re the best dream I wouldn’t even let myself have. I want a future with you, no matter how much it conflicts with my schedule.”
“Wow,” Corey said. “That’s a hell of a compliment. And I’m sorry I didn’t hear it sooner.”
“I didn’t say it sooner.”
“I think maybe you tried to, but I couldn’t hear it through my fear, or maybe I couldn’t believe you.”
“But you believe me now?” Elise asked, her blue eyes hopeful even under the shimmer of tears.
“Yeah,” Corey said, her chest light and her heart full. “I do.”
Elise pulled her close, only the metal railing between them, and kissed her hard on the mouth. The crowd went crazy all around them, but as they pulled apart, Elise clearly said, “I love you.”
“I love you,” Corey shouted, then kissed her again.
Elise pulled away first this time, and wiping away the tears that spilled onto her cheeks said, “You need to go.”
“What?” Corey’s heart seized. “Why?”
She laughed. “Because you won an Olympic gold medal. I’m pretty sure some people are going to want to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Corey grinned sheepishly. “I guess you would know these sorts of things now, right?”
“I may have some newly acquired experience in that department,” Elise said, finally giving into a cocky grin of her own. “Go on. I’ll be here as long as it takes.”
Edge of Glory Page 31