by Sally Henson
Chapter 21
The minute the helicopter lifted off from the school’s helipad, the uneasy queasiness came back, telling me I was making a mistake.
Actually, it’d come fifteen minutes before, when Gamela and Ryan somehow got into my room and woke me up from a well-earned sleep. The whirlwind began, and Gamela shooed me into the bathroom with a wad of clothes to change into. By the time I came out, my bag had been packed. Ryan lifted me onto his back and carried me straight to our transportation.
A helicopter, for goodness’ sake.
I guessed they were in a hurry. Needless to say, all of the excitement had given me a second wind, but that was dwindling.
Now the three of us sat on the expansive deck of Ryan’s rustic luxurious cabin. Gamela’s long legs stretched from her Adirondack chair to the edge of the blazing fire pit. Ryan did the same from the comfy bench we shared. Of course, my legs were too short to reach, so I curled them across his lap.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had s’mores?” Gamela asked before biting into her snack with a moan.
“Me too,” I said, slowly rotating the roasting stick over the fire. Getting it to the perfect shade of toasty was an art.
Ryan dunked my stick closer to the flames.
“Hey!” I cried, moving it back to where I had it.
He and Gamela laughed. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Afraid it won’t be perfect?”
I shrugged, trying to slough off her hurtful remark, and gave up the game. After the week I’d had, her comment felt like a jab. But I did my best to ignore the knot in my stomach. It had been there since we’d boarded the chopper.
The metal stick slid through my fingers. I carefully took the warm, sticky puff of sugar, popping the whole thing in my mouth. It was so sweet, I had to wash it down with a half of a bottle of water. High doses of sugar were not part of my daily food intake.
Ryan talked about the hiking trails nearby. His gaze rested on me several times during his stories, but I stayed focused on the tongues of red, orange, and yellow flame that licked the air.
Gamela stood and asked, “Anyone want more cocoa?”
A carafe of hot cocoa and a tray of s’mores ingredients was waiting for us when we arrived. The fire was going, and the refrigerator was full of food. We weren’t even going to be there twenty-four hours, but it was stocked for a whole weekend.
I shook my head, so mesmerized by the dancing fire that I couldn’t look away.
“Sure, thanks.” Ryan handed Gamela his cup as she walked by. “Should we go hiking and fishing tomorrow?” His hand slid across my shoulders while he tugged my legs so we were as close as possible.
“Maybe?” I wasn’t sure I was up for that. My eyelids were getting heavy, and the promise of rest was what I wanted most.
“I never get to do either in New York.”
“I used to fish with my grandpa when I was a little girl,” I said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been there, though. They live in west Texas.” The memory brought on a ripple of homesickness. My friends back home wouldn’t believe that my boyfriend had flown me in a helicopter to his cabin in the Cascade Mountains. I leaned my head on his shoulder, staring once again into the fire.
“Do you want another marshmallow?” he asked, his hand brushed down my hair in a soothing motion.
I shook my head. “You didn’t have to summon a helicopter, you know. We could have waited and driven here in the morning.” It was over the top, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
“We would have missed the best part.”
I turned, drawing my brows together in question.
The way his eyes danced caused butterflies to come alive and tickle my insides. “Sunrise. Is five minutes enough time to get ready?”
“Like wake up before the sun rises?” I asked. Wasn’t sleep and rest the point of this trip? The soft butterfly wings tickling my stomach faded away.
“Yeah. It’s my favorite thing when I come here. I can’t wait to show you.” Ryan’s smile was dazzling in the firelight. He lifted my chin and leaned in, pressing his sticky, sweet marshmallow lips to mine.
My body sighed. I loved his kisses. I loved he wanted to share the sunrise with me. But I wanted to sleep too.
Ugh, the peaks and valleys of my mood swings were getting on my own nerves.
I pulled away. “If I’m getting up early, I’d better turn in for the night.” I untangled myself from him and stood as Gamela returned, handing a mug to Ryan. “Night, Gamela.”
Her brows arched. “No way. Look at these stars! And we definitely need to watch a movie.”
“It’s already late.” My stomach sank.
She gave me a lopsided smile. “Come on. Rest doesn’t necessarily mean sleep. One more cup of cocoa by the fire, and we’ll let you pick the movie.”
Two hours later, Ryan’s hand fit against my lower back. “Let me walk you to your room.”
We moved through the cabin and up the stairs to the room I was assigned to for the night.
“If you need anything at all, I’ll either be in my room—” He pointed across the hall. “—or in the movie room.”
I nodded, remembering the tour he’d given us when we arrived.
He lifted my hand and kissed it like the Prince Charming he often was.
Despite my moodiness and irritation about waking early, I couldn’t stop the softening of my heart at the sweetness he had shown since I’d blown up at him earlier that night.
I pushed up on my tippy-toes and press my lips against his. “Thank you.”
He grinned, took a step back, reaching for the door handle, and said, “Sleep well, Ally.”
The soft, soothing tone of his voice softened my heart from my doubts about the trip.
After I had dressed in my pajamas for the second time that night, I shut the light off and sank into the soft bed. The unfamiliar scents of lemon and cedar mixed together as I drifted off. I awoke some time later, disoriented in my surroundings. After a trip to the restroom, I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours.
Finally, I threw back the down comforter and stalked down to the kitchen. The lights were on, but no one was in there. I rummaged through the industrial-sized refrigerator for a bottle of water. One of the heavy doors accidentally slammed shut.
“Hey,” a scratchy version of Ryan’s voice said.
I glanced up to see him a few feet from me.
“You okay?” he asked, scratching his head.
I closed the other door, water in hand, and smiled at the sight of his dark, messy hair that stuck up on one side. Sleepy Ryan was bad-boy handsome. “Sorry about the noise. I woke up, and now I can’t seem to fall back asleep.”
He padded across the room with his hand outstretched. “Come watch a movie. I’ll put something on that will guarantee you’ll fall asleep in minutes.”
I’d come here for rest. It was what I needed most, and at that point, I’d do anything to get it. I grasped his hand and let him lead me to the dark movie room with a faint popcorn aroma, hoping he was right.
After he rummaged in a closet for a blanket, we plopped side by side on the chaise of the sectional sofa. With the remote in hand, he pressed a button and spoke. The title popped onto the screen. “This movie makes me fall asleep every time. I’ve never seen the whole thing.” He chuckled. “My dad said it was a classic, but it’s so boring.”
I crossed my fingers, lifting them so he could see. “Hope it works,” I said with a yawn.
The show started, and I snuggled into the sofa under the blanket. Ryan switched positions, lying perpendicular so that our heads met. Seconds later, he reached for my hand, and it wasn’t long before I heard slow, heavy breaths.
Unfortunately, they weren’t mine. Coach Steff had said I should take some time off, but she didn’t know that time would be spent at a boy’s cabin. What was I doing at Ryan Jacobs’s home in the woods?
My heart ached—torn between two things that I didn’t
want to give up. Ryan was kind and sweet. Would he understand my summer would be spent at TOPS gym when I made the Olympic team? Would he understand when I didn’t return to MLA in the fall?
Gamela’s advice about decisions and emotions stopped me from falling into a spiral of what-ifs. I planted a soft kiss against his hair, which smelled clean and musky like his skin. I whispered a plea to his subconscious: “Please don’t be the distraction. I don’t want to give you up, but this is my last chance to make the team.”
Chapter 22
All darkness had left the sky as Ryan and I stood in a clearing overlooking the pines of the Cascade Mountains. I was in excellent shape but struggled to catch my breath from the steep climb. It could have been caused by the exhaustion that had yet to leave my body.
A few deep breaths of strong pine air, and my breathing evened out. After we’d transferred from the helicopter to the vehicle last night, I’d thought the constant incline of the winding road during our drive was a mirage. But from where we were stood, there wasn’t another peak as high for as far as my eyes could see.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” he asked, dropping his backpack on the ground and stretching.
I found a spot next to a large tree to sit and rest. “Yeah, it’s nice,” I answered. It was beautiful, but a little hard to appreciate when I wished I was still sleeping. Ryan’s pleading voice to go with him this morning had made me feel guilty, and I’d gotten up.
“Nice,” he scoffed. “I love it out here. Peace and quiet. Time to think and slow down.”
I rested my head back against the rough bark of the tree while Ryan nestled in between the roots next to me. The light-yellow hue of the sun arched between two peaks in the distance. As it turned golden and the warmth touched my face, my sandpaper eyelids shut.
Birds called to one another, flitting from limb to limb, lulling my body to relax. Until a cold breeze swept through and sent a shiver to my core.
The trip was supposed to be refreshing—relaxing—restful. So far, it was anything but.
“Why are you so quiet?” Ryan asked.
Was he seriously asking me that question? I popped one eye open and looked his direction. Tired Ally equaled grumpy Ally. He knew that. I swallowed the rising grumpiness, but it leaked through my voice. “I’m tired.”
We sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.
“I thought you might like to see something I …” He hitched a shoulder. His uncharacteristic frown made his whole being frown.
I didn’t know what to say or do. Why was having a boyfriend so complicated? I spoke the two words that my mother had said were always appropriate: “Thank you.”
It worked, because he began his customary chatter. “I want you to meet my mom. And come to New York for a couple weeks this summer. I can show you the city as a real New Yorker, not a tourist.” He went on about all the things we would do. “When would be good to go to Houston? Maybe you could show me west Texas, too. Are there real cowboys?”
After he finally took a breath, I brought him back to reality. “You know once I’m on the Olympic team, training will be even more intense than it is now.”
His dark brows squished together. Another frown formed on his kissable lips.
“And my parents are overseas. I have no idea when they’ll be back, or where I’ll live over the summer. Maybe with one of the other team members?” It was a situation I hadn’t yet thought of. But I couldn’t dwell on that until after I made the team. “I probably won’t be back at MLA in the fall.”
Ryan turned away and squinted into the sunrise over the Cascades. The muscle near his jawline flexed a few times before he spoke again. “The love-hate thing with my dad, before he got sick … After so many years of his pressure to perform, I adopted it for myself. It may not have been gymnastics, but I had to be the best, Ally. The best at everything that I did. Video games, school, clubs, my clothes … It didn’t matter. I put so much time into being the best that I almost got sick.”
He pulled his knees to his chest and glanced at me. “Physically and mentally.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It was too much, and I see the same signs in you.”
I shook my head, about to say it wasn’t the same thing.
“He realized when it was too late that there’s more to life than being the best every second of the day. It took to him getting sick and dying to see it myself.”
I wasn’t on good terms with my parents at the moment, but I wouldn’t want to lose either of them. I could hear the heartbreak in his voice just talking about it. But what he was saying was like comparing apples to steak—not even close.
Turning to face me, he continued, “I know you think that I’m a clown half of the time and I never take anything seriously, that all I do is joke around, but I wasn’t always this way. I used to be as serious as you.” His pleading blue eyes held mine.
The bitter breeze no longer cooled my body. My clenched teeth parted. “We are total opposites. And I don’t have to be the best at everything. I’ve got one goal, and that’s the Olympics.”
“Since the moment you got to school, you’ve been in the gym, in class, or studying. If you hadn’t twisted your ankle, you never would have given me the time of day.” His annoying grin was back.
“Maybe.” My coiled muscles ached, and I stood, ready to get out of there. I didn’t like the middle of the conversation, and I was sure I needed to end it. “How many twenty-year-old gymnasts make it to the Olympics?” I planted my hands on my hips and arched my brows. “It’s now or never.”
He looked away.
“Wasn’t this trip supposed to be restful? We got here late, stayed up later, and then got up before sunrise.” My eyelids slammed closed. Listening to his doubts about me making the trials was like reliving the night my parents had declared full-time gymnastics was over.
I turned and headed back down the steep trail, hoping I could figure out how to get back to the cabin, because that was the only thing I could think about at the moment. If I tried to do more, I might lose it.
And I wasn’t the girl who lost it—ever.
“Ally,” he called after me, but I continued to down the trail.
The conversation, the fact that he hadn’t mentioned me making the Olympic team, drove me faster. Too fast, because my feet began to slide down the steep hill until one foot caught on a rock. I grasped for anything to keep me from tumbling head over heels, but in doing so, I threw off what little balance I had, causing my foot to slip off the rock and my ankle twisted. I landed on my butt with a heavy thud.
“Ally!” Ryan called again. I heard his feet pound the earth as he neared.
Even though there was no pain, I was afraid to stand. This had been the most disastrous “relaxing” trip I’d ever taken. It might not have been Ryan’s fault I slid down the trail, but all of my anger at the situation was aimed at him.
He knelt beside me and looked at my ankle.
“Was this your plan the whole time? Force me to give up and be like you by destroying my chances?”
His head flinched backward. “Why—”
“Why not push me off the cliff instead? Do the job right the first time.”
His narrowed blue eyes hardened. I knew I’d struck a nerve when the muscle in his jaw began to tick. He kept his tight lips closed.
I slowly stood, making sure it wasn’t tender before dusting off to begin again.
“No,” he said coldly, moving and handing me his backpack. “I’ll carry you.”
“It’s fine,” I grumbled, but he wouldn’t accept my answer.
Without another word, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.
Chapter 23
On the way back to the cabin, it didn’t take long for me to agree to the piggyback instead of being slung over his shoulders like a beach towel. The familiar heat of guilt, laced with Gamela’s advice about not making emotional decisions, plagued me on our trek. Ugh, the things I’d accused Ryan of wishing on me. He would never want me to get
hurt.
Speaking venom was a decision I’d made when I was emotional. Asking forgiveness was a decision too. When I realized what a jerk I had been, I apologized for insinuating he wanted me to fall off a cliff. My emotions were volatile, at best.
When I spotted Gamela through the trees, she was at the table on the deck, drinking something out of a mug. “Oh my gosh!” she gasped, seeing me on Ryan’s back as he carried me. “What happened?” She rushed to the steps leading to the trails.
“I stepped wrong on a rock, but I’m okay.”
Gamela and Ryan shared a look, and I caught the slight shake of his head.
“I can get it from here,” I insisted as we reached the top of the stairs. Piggybacks after I had twisted my ankle was what brought us together. Was it a sign of our end?
“No,” he said simply, crossing to the table before gently lowering me to the fabricated deck boards. “I’ll get you an ice pack and some breakfast.” He wasn’t cold, but he wasn’t the Ryan I’d gotten used to. We’d both said things we shouldn’t have back on his sunrise spot.
Gamela took her seat and forked a bite of fruit. She eyed me warily. “What happened? The vibe between you two is so not right.”
“I don’t know.” Hashing through all that was said would only bring up the hurt, and I didn’t want to relive it. My heart squeezed. It was too late.
He returned with a plate mounded with food and the promised ice pack.
“Thank you,” I said softly, waiting for his gaze to meet mine.
It did, briefly, accompanied by a small smile.
“Henry’s breakfast is delicious, Ryan.” Gamela commented, breaking the awkwardness.
“Henry?” I asked.
“He’s our chef. He always cooks when we come here.”
I nodded. A chef wasn’t something my parents indulged in. Mom did order fresh ingredient meals that arrived at the door, sometimes.
Ryan gripped the top of the chair across from me, eyes flittering between mine and the tabletop. “I could fix you some of my mom’s herbal hot tea that helps her sleep.” He hitched a shoulder. “You know, since last night and … I woke you so early. We won’t bother you if you want to sleep.”