The Winter Games

by Sharp, Dr. Rebecca

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

  “Sure, you could win without him. You can ski without him. But Danny helps you be better. He helps you see things you might miss,” she went on, though her point was crystal clear to me. “And I think that’s all Kyle was trying to do—help you see something that you might have missed. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that the guy is in love with you.”

  Heat flooded my face.

  “Aside from talking to this PI, did he do anything else?”

  I balked and tried to remember what he said, but it felt as though I was leapfrogging on unsteady logs in a swamp of feeling. They tipped and tilted, sunk and bobbed each time I tried to focus on more facts I realized I’d been too upset to ask about.

  “I don’t know.”

  I swallowed over the lump in my throat, my emotions clogging every outlet to where my body didn’t know whether I should laugh, scream, or cry. Kyle loved me. And I turned him away. He tried to help me. And I threw it back in his face.

  Everything about my life was controlled—dictated by Danny and my dream. Everything except my heart.

  And for the past five years, I’d gone over the top to make sure I controlled that wily organ in my chest to within an inch of its life. Until Kyle walked into my life with his sweet-talking smile and shining chivalry. He wanted to take care of my heart, and I treated him like he wanted to take it from me.

  “Yeah,” I admitted softly. “I just… he can’t just think it’s okay to do whatever he wants with my life.”

  “Do you really think that’s what he was trying to do?”

  I gulped, ready to say ‘yes’ but unable to verbalize a lie.

  “You want my advice, Jac?”

  “Even if I said no, I doubt it would stop you from giving it to me,” I grumbled, annoyed that I had too many people in my life who refused to let me be my stubborn self when it came to the important things.

  Stubborn people needed stubborn love. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the sensation that I didn’t deserve the ones who stubbornly cared for me even when I pushed them away.

  “Let me guess, ‘stop being such a jerk, Jac,’” I suggested with a chuckle that got clogged in my throat.

  “Well,” Maris drawled with a small laugh, “I was actually going to say, please don’t pull a Princess Leia and make us wait all of Empire for you to finally admit your feelings for Han.”

  My eyes squeezed shut to fight the laughter and tears. Star Wars always shot right through my stubborn shield.

  “So, basically, don’t be a jerk, Jac,” I translated with a groan and squeezed her tightly before whispering, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me.” She sat back and reached for the remote. “I’ve been waiting for you to want a happily-ever-after for a long time, Jac.”

  I stood and walked back to the kitchen, feeling like I was treading across a rope bridge that spanned uncertainty and hurt, afraid to make one wrong step. Picking up my phone, I wanted to call Kyle. Or text him. I wanted to tell him to come back so I could listen to what he wanted to say instead of the thoughts that my fear screamed at me to hear. But then I saw the time and knew that I had a lot to make up for tomorrow with Danny on the mountain.

  Now wasn’t the time to be impulsive again. I needed to think—to process. Even if I loved him, I didn’t have to do anything about it. And if I did do something about it, I needed to be okay with what that meant: trusting him with my heart and knowing he’d take care of it.

  Knowing I’d have to be okay letting him take care of it…

  Crawling into bed, I drifted off to sleep and wondered if maybe I was a villain in my own fairytale.

  I HADN’T SLEPT. I’D BARELY eaten. The only thing I’d really done was gone to the gym this morning and spent thirty minutes straight ramming my fist into the punching bag until my shoulder screamed for me to stop.

  I hadn’t heard from Jac at all yesterday and as much as I wanted to call her, I didn’t. She looked so damn hurt. Like she’d let me past all her walls and I’d destroyed her from the inside out. I just—Fuck.

  I punched the bag one last time.

  I was worried about her fucking safety even if she wasn’t.

  Even if Jac caught whatever they did to her skis before her runs, even if she was able to fix it, those fuckers deserved to be punished for what they were doing and without Pyle, there wouldn’t be any proof.

  So I didn’t call her because I didn’t want her to tell me to call Pyle off even after I gave her my latest insights. I couldn’t not do something. Not now.

  I loved her.

  I’d surprised myself with the confession even though the sentiment wasn’t a surprise at all.

  I’d always been the guy to do the right thing—the respectful thing. I was sure if it was any other athlete, I would have been just as suspicious and talked to someone about what I overheard. But because it was Jac, this went beyond my normal level of chivalry. Knowing what I did… hearing what I did… I would’ve sabotaged the whole goddamn competition if that’s what it took to keep Jac off the mountain and safe. It was like a fire in my blood—the need to fight for the very beat of my heart. And when your heartbeat is tied to someone else, if that’s not love, then I had no interest in whatever love was supposed to be.

  I flicked on the shower in the locker room. It was still crackhead early, but I was going to be at the bottom of the slopes the very fucking second that they opened, front and fucking center, to do whatever needed to be done.

  I groaned as the soap burned in the split knuckles on my hand. I probably shouldn’t have fucking told her I loved her the other night. Something about waiting for the right place and the right time came to mind—and the right time was not the second she thought I went behind her back to have someone investigate her competition.

  If she wasn’t willing to listen to reason, I sincerely doubted throwing my love and the thought of commitment in her face was my best move. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a fucking guidebook for this whole Prince Charming deal. I just wanted Jac to know I was going to take care of her even when she was stubborn because I loved her too much not to.

  Finishing up, I threw on my jeans and long-sleeve Henley and winter jacket. Grabbing my stuff, I headed for the mountain just as the sun finally illuminated down over all of the slopes.

  Guess we were about to find out if I was right or if I was just fucking crazy.

  There was already a crowd forming as I tried to maneuver my way over toward the closed off area where all of the athletes were congregated. The cold in the air was sharp, slicing like a frozen knife into my lungs. The excitement and anticipation for the event floated in the air like flurries. With all the drama surrounding Jac and her ‘biggest rival’, all that media-hyped tension hung suspended in the atmosphere just waiting to come crashing down with the mountain’s verdict.

  Hopefully, Jac didn’t come crashing down with it.

  I pulled out my phone, muffling a curse to see I still didn’t have any messages from Pyle. I tried to call him on the way over here but no answer.

  “Hey, man.” Tyler tagged me on the shoulder and stuck out his hand.

  “Hey,” I said with a distracted smile. “What are you doing here?”

  “Me?” he scoffed with a grin that was far too lighthearted for his size. “I prepped and waxed half of the skis that are competing today. I want to see how well I did.”

  “No shit.” I knew he was good, but I didn’t know he was that good—or that he worked on skis.

  He tugged out a lanyard from underneath his jacket, ’World Cup Staff’ written in big bold letters on the tag. “Well, that and I’m on call if anyone needs anything fixed or adjusted.”

  “What are you doing here?” he asked as he continued to follow me. At least with him talking to me, the crowd of guys from working ski patrol for the event didn’t detain me.

  “My girl is competing.”

  “Ahh… Jac Blanchard,” he mused. “I did not wax her skis.”
I looked at him over my shoulder waiting for an explanation. “Jessa said something to Chance, Chance said something to me.”

  “Yeah, well, the wax is the least of my concerns right now,” I grumbled, coming up to the barrier they’d set up, my eyes firing down the line of people as I searched for Jac.

  A firm hand gripped my arm and my head whipped back to Tyler.

  “What’s going on?” His normal carefree appearance was gone, replaced with something serious and deadly.

  My jaw clenched. I wasn’t about to tell the whole world that some shady shit may or may not be happening, but Tyler wasn’t the world. He was Chance’s cousin and not a bad guy to have on my side if I needed him.

  “I think one of the other skiers sabotaged Jac’s skis last night,” I said with a low voice, glancing around to confirm that no one was paying attention to us.

  “Are you—are you fucking kidding me?” He leaned in and asked. “What the hell are you going to do?”

  “Well, I’m hoping like hell that the guy I hired to look into it found something, otherwise I’m going to have to get creative. But what I’m not going to do is let her go down that mountain at eighty-plus fucking miles per hour on skis that could’ve been tampered with.”

  I pulled out my phone again. Still nothing.

  The snow no longer crunched beneath my feet, I’d packed it down so hard with the turning and subtle pacing that I’d been doing.

  My eyes darted over to the blocked off area to see the skiers begin to congregate. There she was. Completely white ski suit. Her R2D2 decorated helmet in one hand and blue and white skis under her other arm.

  She didn’t see me though. She wasn’t even looking.

  “Is he supposed to meet you here?” Tyler asked.

  “I don’t know.” My heart pumped. They were going to line up soon for qualifying passes. “He’s not responding to me.”

  My tongue fought against the cage of my mouth to yell to her and ask her to come to me—to show me that everything was okay. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach considering she looked calm and composed, not worried in the least about her skis.

  “What can I do?” Tyler asked.

  Even if I called to her, after our last conversation, she definitely wasn’t coming over here. Not to talk to me, that was for sure. My only option was to wait and hope Pyle got here soon.

  But then even time turned against me.

  The skiers began to line up, preparing to take the lift to the top of the mountain. Jac was tenth in line.

  Fuck.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I turned to him and demanded, “Go check on her. Ask her if everything is okay with her skis.”

  I knew she would’ve already checked. And double checked. And had Danny triple check. Especially after what I’d told her.

  At the very least, I knew what I said would make her just as cautious as it did angry, even if she wanted to continue to believe that Andrea wouldn’t be so bold—and stupid—to try and tamper with her equipment.

  He nodded.

  “Oh, and Tyler, don’t tell her I asked you. Just make sure everything looks okay… Looks tight and sturdy… Settings. Bindings… Hell, make sure the wax is still there.” My voice was strained, hating that the woman I was trying to protect thought she needed to protect her heart from me. I’d prove it to her. Whatever it took, however long it took, I’d make it up to her—but not when her life could be on the line.

  It was like slow fucking motion, watching Tyler walk over to her. He was stopped a few steps past the barrier by security who immediately approached him. Like they could detain someone that big if he was really determined. As soon as they saw his pass, they backed off.

  Just as he approached her, her head turning in this direction, something slapped against my chest. I looked down to see a hand pinning a folder against my jacket, the next second, realizing the hand was attached to Jackson Pyle.

  “Where the hell have you been?” I demanded rudely. It was past the point of civility when my girl was about to head up to where I couldn’t reach her.

  Pyle glared at me. “Getting you everything you need,” he said tightly.

  My hands caught the folder just as he let go. I looked over to Jac, seeing her talking to Tyler and then looking over to me. Shit. She knew I asked him to check on her. My breath release when she didn’t immediately send him away, hope flickering like the tiniest match lit inside my heart.

  When I turned to my side, Pyle was gone, disappeared into the crowd even faster than he’d appeared in front of me.

  Flipping open the folder, my eyes scanned its contents, my insides both curling and calming with each sheet. Closing it, I held it to my chest as I ducked underneath the tape that blocked off the area.

  Fuck their barrier, I needed to see Jac.

  She needed to see this.

  I jogged toward her, she and Tyler both noticing my approach when I was about halfway to them—just like security.

  I heard them yelling at me, but I didn’t care. She needed to see this. She needed to know.

  “Jac,” I exclaimed, my breaths coming in hard pants. “Whatever you think of me, however much you hate me right now, you have to see this.”

  She stared at me with wide eyes and her full lips parted. I couldn’t read her expression and it killed me, seeing that mask over her beautiful feelings again.

  I pushed the folder toward her just as security came up behind me.

  Tyler grabbed it from my hands since Jac didn’t have any free.

  “Masters, you can’t be back here,” Jeff snarled into my ear as he yanked my arms behind my back. “You’re going to have to come with us.”

  I didn’t fight because it didn’t matter what happened to me. The only thing that mattered was her.

  “Please,” I begged.

  I winced and bit back a groan as he yanked on my arms and forced me back toward the crowd who was thoroughly interested now.

  Jeff twisted my arms painfully upward, but I didn’t say anything or try to pull away because if I let myself, I wouldn’t stop until I had him on the ground with his face buried in the snow for what he did.

  “Wait.” Her voice rung out over the crowd. I stopped and I heard Jeff’s muttered curse behind me.

  When we turned back, Tyler had opened the folder and Jac was staring at the photos inside. I watched as the realization dawned on her before she looked up at me with horror in her eyes.

  I had been right.

  “Let him go,” she commanded, closing the folder and walking toward me.

  “Ma’am, he doesn’t have—” Jeff ground out, wrenching on my arms again.

  “I know.” Her teal eyes flared. I wondered if Jeff knew she could take him down without batting an eyelash. “He’s with my team, but he left his tag in my bag. I’ll take him over to the official tent and sort it out.”

  The hold on my arms didn’t immediately relax, but when Tyler began to trail behind Jac toward us, Jeff finally let me go, cursing underneath his breath as he turned to go back to his post.

  “Jac, I’m sorry, but—”

  “Why did you give this to me?” she demanded.

  My jaw clenched. “Because I needed you to know.”

  “Right but why didn’t you just take it to them?” Her head tipped back over toward where the FIS official’s tent was set up, the huge Audi symbol on the top signaling their sponsorship of the event.

  I stared dumbly at her for a moment.

  There were a million reasons but only one mattered. “Because it’s ultimately your decision, Jac,” I replied hoarsely. “If you don’t… want to do anything about it other than fix your skis and win the race, that’s your call, Princess. Can’t say I’ll be happy about it after how fucking hard you’ve worked for this, but it’s your call. However, I’m not going to let you make that decision without every fucking fact—without every confidence that you can take her down if you want to.”

  Maybe it was the cold. Or the snow. But I swore I
could see the crystal of her eyes gloss over with unshed tears.

  “But only if you want to,” I finished with a low voice, the words pulled straight from the depths of my heart.

  I could have turned it in. I could have skipped this whole fucking scene and just gone over there and saved her with what was in that folder. But that wasn’t my decision. This was her fight, her battle, and it affected her dream; I didn’t need to be the one to rescue her, I just needed her to know that I would always, only be on her side—no matter what she chose.

  Her head jerked with a nod and I knew she was holding back emotions that had no place being aired at the start of the competition.

  “I want to,” she said firmly just as her eyes rose to mine.

  Air rushed from my lungs into a huge burst of fog between us. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath, waiting for her to make the call I hoped she would.

  Jac turned and we broke further from the group of skiers who’d begun to line up for the lift in order to head toward the official’s tent.

  “Can I help you?” a young woman asked Jac when she got to the entrance.

  “Yes, I’d like to speak with Mr. Fitzgerald.”

  The woman crossed her arm. I had no idea who Fitzgerald was, but Jac seemed sure that he was the guy to talk to. “And what would that be regarding?”

  “Equipment tampering.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “Give me a moment.”

  As soon as she was gone, I leaned in and asked, “Who is Fitzgerald?”

  “The coordinator of the event,” she explained quietly. “The same one who questioned me five years ago about altering Andrea’s skis.”

  My spine straightened like ice was poured down my jacket.

  The woman returned and instructed, “Come with me.”

  The three of us wove through the much less crowded tent, the judges all bundled in matching black event jackets. Around what appeared to be the back wall of the tent was another smaller enclosed space with a small table set up, a TV on a stand in the corner of the room, footage from the slopes flickering over the screen, and an older gentleman sitting behind the make-shift desk, looking over a stack of papers.