“You should talk to him,” my dad said. “I can tell you’re hurting over the miscarriage and I think it’ll help if you can talk about it with him.”
I cringed at the idea of talking to Trace again. What was the point of opening up old wounds just to create new ones?
No point.
“I’ll think about it,” I lied.
I kissed my dad on the cheek and promised to call him the following weekend.
Talk to Trace? After the way I treated him, I’d be lucky if he didn’t spit in my face if he ever saw me again.
— TRACE —
30. THE BRAWL
December 4, 2016
WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT IN VEGAS By Hot Vegas Nights
After a hospital stay late last month, reports have surfaced that Dallas Stone, one-half of the Dueling Cellos act at the Mirage, is suffering from an inoperable form of brain cancer. There was a lot of speculation surrounding the decision to put such a popular show on hiatus, but now that facts about Stone’s illness have come to light, his fans are understandably distraught.
“I’ve seen the show five times,” Allison Long said. “I just can’t imagine a world without Dallas Stone and his talent.”
The music world agrees. Las Vegas might be a city brimming with talent and charisma, but it will definitely suffer a great loss when the light of Dallas Stone is gone.
=========================
The only good thing about waiting for Harlow to come to her senses and finally give chase and fight for me was that I had nothing else to do but focus on winning. And that was definitely something I was good at.
The first weekend in December marked my debut back on the board and the first race of the Back Country Tour season. So far, everything had gone my way. I’d won all of my heats and made it into the final round. Winning this race would be more than just another notch on my snowboard. It’d be my opportunity to prove to the media, and my fans, that I was back for good. The media had been doubting all along that I’d ever be as good as I once was.
I was here to prove them wrong.
I was here to win.
Second wasn’t good enough. It had never been good enough.
The wind at the top of the mountain was brutal. I glanced around as I held on to the walls that separated me from the other boarders. Our helmets and goggles were already in place, but I knew what was hidden under all the layers of bright fabric and shiny lenses—Tyler, Javier, Mac, Grant, and Cam. But even more importantly, I knew the way their boards carved, the moves they’d make, and the risks they’d take. They spent their training time studying the mountain and all its curves and dips. I’d spent the last week studying them. I knew their weaknesses and strengths as well as my own.
The warning for the start of the race was given, and I got into position, my muscles straining as my body poised to be let loose. When the horn sounded, it was like a dam had broken. We exploded out of the gate, scattering waves of snow in our wake. Grant, on my left, threw his weight back against me. In NASCAR, they say rubbing is racing. Grant clearly took that motto to heart and liked to be aggressive right from the start.
I was ready for him, though, and when his weight slammed into me, I didn’t give an inch. He bounced off the unexpected wall off my body and pitched forward. He spun out on his stomach, getting left behind in a matter of nanoseconds. The first curve in the course came, and the rest of the racers took it high, hoping to gain speed by using the bank of the hill and slingshotting around the bend to avoid the rough, ungroomed snow on the lower edge. Rough snow didn’t bother me. I carved as close as I could on the inside, my back to the trees. I could feel the rough snow vibrating against the board under my feet. I had a clear view of the other boarders as they battled it out on the bank. Two of them, Mac and Cam, crossed the noses of their boards while they fought for space. They both went down, but Cam twisted the spin of his board until he was upright again and angled down the slope as we came out of the turn.
The course narrowed and soon the space around me was filled with flinging elbows, and the sharp edges of boards. We slammed against each other, ricocheting and slicing across the snow, the edges of the snowboards crashing against one another like a sword fight. Actually, a sword fight suggested that there was chivalry and sophistication, that a certain set of rules were followed. There were no rules in snowboard cross. It was an all-out brawl.
We came around another curve, and Javier tried to cut in front of me, knocking the front of my board to the side. My weight shifted and for a breathless moment, I felt my heart rise in my throat as my feet came out from under me like a cloth pulled off a table by a magician. My back slammed into the hard snow, and my momentum had me spinning out of control as I continued down the hill. The rest of the racers were a blur of color as they sped by me, but I swung my board around, catching the edge on the snow as I used my plummeting weight to push up to my feet again.
It had only taken a moment, but in the blink of an eye, I was in last place and staring at the backs of the other five boarders as the distance between us grew.
But I knew how to chase. I was an expert.
My mind jumped to Harlow and how badly that chase had ended.
Shit. Losing focus now was not part of the plan.
I was here to win.
The wind bit at my exposed skin as I kept my eyes trained on the figures in front of me, searching for the opening I needed. My board slid against the snow, the weeks of training on my skateboard telling my muscles it was nothing more than a training session. I was calm and determined. I didn’t have to think about what I wanted my body to do, it just knew how to pull more speed out of every angle and curve.
I took the small series of hills as fast as possible, resisting the urge to get air, letting my leg muscles absorb the height so that I could fly down the course. I was gaining on the others, but I needed more time to catch up.
Sooner than I expected, the last and biggest hill came into view. Javier and Tyler hit it first, still battling for the lead. The force of the jump tossed them into each other in mid-air. The crowd roared in approval as they wobbled in weightlessness, their arms pinwheeling as they tried to stay upright.
The rest of the guys hit the jump in quick succession, the air catching under their boards and tossing them high, which caused more screams from the crowd. When I hit the jump, I stayed low and compact, like a bullet. I shot over the edge of the hill in an almost straight line, passing under Cam in the process.
Ahead of me, Javier managed to land feet first, but Tyler caught his front edge and tumbled ass over head before knocking up and over the boundaries of the course.
The finish line came into view, and I was right behind Javier. He was exactly who I expected to see in a battle for the finish line, but I didn’t care who it was as long as when we crossed, I was in front.
I tilted and curved my weight against the snow, gaining on Javier as I stayed in his blind spot. As if sensing someone was behind him, he glanced over his shoulder to find me hot on his tail. He should have known it would take more than a little rubbing to knock me out for good.
“Stone!” He growled my name like a feral dog protecting a bone. He faced forward again as the finish line loomed closer.
Suddenly, he veered to the left, trying to cut me off again, but I was ready for him. I leaned hard on my back edge, flicking my lead foot out to the right at the same time. I made a hard turn, grazing over the back of his board. His body jerked wildly as he fought to regain control. I tried to swing around him and into the lead.
My heart was crashing in my chest, my muscles aching with each flick of my feet. All those weeks working the moves on my skateboard…all those hours spent watching my competition in videos. I’d known what Javier was going to do before he did. He always played dirty.
“Careful, Stone, or you’ll be in a hospital bed next to Dallas,” Javier barked.
The sound of my cousin’s name caught me off guard, and when Javier jostled into me and threw h
is elbow into my ribs, I went down like a folding chair. He crossed the finish line moments before I tumbled across it.
On my back.
In second place.
I watched as Javier kicked his board around to the side, spraying snow in a rooster tail as he came to a stop. He was breathing hard and throwing his hands into the air triumphantly. As the cheers continued and reporters approached him to ask questions, I bent over and unbuckled my board.
How could I let him get to me like that? And how did he even know about Dallas? All the training in the world did me no good if I lost focus so easily.
I finished unbuckling, stood up, and looked at the crowd, searching for faces I knew weren’t there. My parents were on a cruise; my sister couldn’t come because her kids had basketball games, and Huck and Cat were at a conference.
However, the one face I wanted to see—my lucky charm, my Cricket—was the one I missed the most.
Yes, losing the race sucked, but it would have sucked a whole lot less if she’d been at the finish line. Even when I was mad at her, I still wanted her.
I missed fighting with her.
Shit. I missed fighting for her.
The problem was…I’d come to realize that I couldn’t fight for someone who didn’t want to be won.
And until the day she wanted to be caught, I was left waiting for her to come fight for me.
— HARLOW —
31. ROOMIE PROBLEMS
December 21, 2016
CHANGES COMING SOON! By Harlow Ransom
This column is under construction until further notice. Rest assured that big changes are coming.
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If I thought having Couch Cat for a roommate was a pain in the ass, it was only because I’d forgotten what it was like to live with my sisters. Luckily, I was only living with one right now. Marlow.
She came home with me after I’d made my big confession at Thanksgiving. She said it was because she didn’t want me to be alone after such a traumatic situation. But it had been three and a half weeks since Thanksgiving and since I spent most of my time in class, at work, or doing homework…she was the one who was alone most of the time. When I asked her what she did all day, she laughed and said, “I work.”
I was pretty sure Marlow and I had different definitions for the word “work” and I was even more certain that she’d never had an actual job in her life.
As I walked around the apartment picking up dirty clothes, dishes, and trash that weren’t mine, I didn’t find the situation of having her as a roommate even remotely funny.
I walked over to the couch where she was sprawled out, reading a magazine. I juggled her discarded items around in my arms and tried to remain calm as I got her attention. “Hey.”
Marlow was reluctant to look up from her article, but when she finally did, she frowned at the items in my arms. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning up,” I said with a shrug. “Since it appears you’ve forgotten how.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry about it. The cleaning lady will get it.”
“Marlow,” I groaned. “This isn’t your father’s mansion. I’m the cleaning lady.” I sighed and adjusted the items to rest against my hips. I didn’t want to argue about the mess with her. We lived completely different lives, and I didn’t hold it against her that she’d forgotten what life had been like before she went to live with her rich, rocker dad. “I’ll be fine here if you want to go home. You don’t have to stick around and keep me company or anything.”
She gave me a look of hurt. “You don’t want me here?”
“Of course I do,” I hurried to say. “It’s just that I have a lot of things that keep me busy and I’m sure you’re missing…doing…” I trailed off because I had no idea what she was missing out on. I didn’t think Marlow went to school since she never mentioned it. What did Marlow do with her days?
She didn’t answer and was still wearing the look of hurt, so I said, “By the way, thanks for the money you dropped into my account. It’s really not necessary. I’ve got my bills pretty much covered. And besides, it was excessive.”
Her look of hurt turned into one of confusion. “Money? I haven’t been putting money in your account. Were you expecting me to?” Her hand went up to her mouth, and she looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that. I just figured…I thought I was helping you out by being here. I didn’t even think to give you money for bills or anything.”
I looked around the apartment, which was so disorganized and messy from Marlow’s carelessness, I hardly recognized it. “You know I love you, Marlow, but I’m having a hard time figuring out how you’re helping. I’m doing your laundry, cooking for you, cleaning up after you…”
She took a deep breath. “I fed the cat and cleaned the litter box today.”
I leveled an amused gaze at her. “No, you didn’t. Flex fed Couch Cat and cleaned the litter box before he took her.” I’d finally found a new home for my cat. Apparently, Flex’s girlfriend wanted a pet and was willing to give mine a new home. Couch Cat left today while I was in class. To be honest, I wasn’t sad to see her go and I think she was happy to have a new victim to torture.
Marlow crossed her arms and lifted her chin so she could look down the length of her nose at me. “Well, I watched Flex feed the cat, and then I groped him while he cleaned up the cat shit, so that’s almost the same thing.”
My eyes went wide in horror. “You groped Flex?” He was like my brother. The thought of my sister groping him was flat out disgusting.
She lifted her hands in surrender. “Just a little ‘how do you do’ on the ass. No nudity involved. No big deal. Although to be honest, I didn’t know guys with his coloring could blush so hard.”
I shook my head and tried to stifle my laugh. “Marlow. You can’t go groping my friends. And I’m still wondering why you even want to be here. This can’t be as exciting as LA. I’m not even sure what you do here all day aside from lay around waiting for me to entertain you or take care of you.”
A slow smile crept across her lips, and she tossed aside her magazine, giving me a look of superiority as she kicked her legs over the edge of the couch and sat up straight. “I’m here to help you get your man back.”
I blinked at her in surprise. “That’s not on the agenda.”
Her hands went to her hips. “It should be. You promised your dad you’d talk to Trace about what happened and you still haven’t. Why not?”
“I will, I’m just…”
“Scared,” she finished for me. “Your future had a speed bump. The unexpected happened. Love is scary. So what? Why don’t you just talk to him about what happened and then tell him you love him?”
Tell Trace that I loved him? “I don’t…”
“Yes, you do! You’ve been moping around this apartment for three weeks. Don’t think I don’t know why,” she said, pointing at me. “I might not be good at much, but I’m an expert at love and relationships.”
My mouth twisted into a half grin. “Marlow, you’ve never had a boyfriend for longer than two weeks. Two weeks does not make you an expert.”
“That’s by choice.” She stepped forward and jabbed her finger in my shoulder. “I’m talking about being an expert with other people’s relationships. You and Trace. This is what I do. How do you think I became the Love Lady of LA?”
I gave her a look of disbelief, wondering if she really wanted an answer. “By sleeping with half of the city?” I ventured.
She slapped my arm.
“Hey!” I whined, rubbing the spot where she’d hit me. “You’re not supposed to hit the hired help,” I joked.
“And you’re not supposed to insinuate that your sister is a slut!” she snapped back.
It was my turn to jab her in the shoulder. “Well. I seem to remember you calling me a skank the day after my birthday.”
She grunted and shook her head, batting my finger away. “Love Lady of LA?” she asked again. “
You really don’t know?”
I shook my head.
She sighed. “Do you honestly think I just sit around all day doing nothing? I’m a matchmaker, Harlow. I set lonely rich people up on eligible dates. As a job,” she clarified. “I get paid for it.” She looked at me in question again, and when I continued to stare back blankly at her, she sighed and threw her hands up in the air. “Seriously? I’ve been doing it for three years.” She gestured to her laptop. “I just signed a deal for a reality show with EW. Did you really not know this?”
I shook my head slowly, my mouth hanging open in surprise for a few seconds. “You set people up on dates? Does Willow know?”
“Yes.” Marlow’s hands went back to her hips, and she looked down her nose at me, which was quite a feat since she was shorter than I was. “If you got your head out of your ass more often you would have known too. Maybe this speed bump was exactly what you needed to see that life is more than just a few plans you have for yourself.”
The whole conversation had started out with me griping over Marlow’s laziness, but turned into shame when I realized that she was right. I’d been so self-centered worrying about my career and my future, that I’d allowed myself to miss out on the rest of the things that turned a lackluster life into a full and happy one—romance, family, friends.
My face must have revealed more than I intended because Marlow reached out and put her hands on my shoulders. “It’s time for you to stop trying to do this life all on your own.” She held my gaze. “You need to tell him how you feel about him.”
I swallowed, trying to hold back the thickness in my throat that made me want to cry. “But he’s got a successful career. He’s got the tour season coming up with X-Games this winter. He has a legitimate shot at the Olympics. What if he doesn’t want this?” I patted my chest. “What if he doesn’t love me back?” My heart skipped at the question. It was the first time I’d admitted to myself that what I felt for Trace was more than just a passing infatuation. But why should that surprise me? Loving my mother was what caused the biggest heartache of my life. Trace represented everything that could destroy me. Of course I’d try to run away from the thing that could hurt me most.
Hitched (Hearts of Stone Book 2) Page 28