by Sarina Bowen
“So—” he helped himself to some General Tso’s chicken “—how would that work? What do you need to do to finish your degree?”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” she said. “I’d need to reconnect with my thesis adviser first. I’d finish the writing, which is actually the easiest part. But then I’d need to do a clinical internship, and there’s where it gets tricky. Because I’d need to be in a city with a teaching hospital that takes on grad students in their child psych clinics.”
He looked thoughtful. “It doesn’t sound impossible.”
“It doesn’t sound easy.”
“What if I could help you?”
She looked up. “How?”
“With money for starters. I never spent my money on anything other than Finn’s nursing care.”
“He was so lucky to have you,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I’ll never meet him.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“I appreciate your offer to help, but I’m not sure it’s practical. It’s a pretty deep hole I’ve got myself in, here. Just to get out of Vermont is going to cost me plenty—to sell the house, to set myself up somewhere I can finish my program. I feel overwhelmed just thinking about it.”
“How far underwater are you? If you don’t mind my asking.”
She caught a piece of broccoli with her chopsticks. “After I pay a realtor’s fee, probably thirty or forty thousand dollars. God, it’s so embarrassing. At least I don’t have any other debt.”
“Willow, that’s not so bad. The Olympics are eleven months away. It will be my biggest earning year yet.”
“Why is that?”
He set down his beer bottle. “You know there’s money in this game, right?”
“Do you mean athletes on cereal boxes?” Willow shrugged.
Dane smiled, his whole face lighting up. “I love this about you.”
“What?”
“That you aren’t part of this circus, that you aren’t interested in me just because of all this crap.”
“Which crap?”
Dane showed her the label on his jacket. “These guys pay me seventy-thousand dollars a year to wear their stuff.”
Willow felt her jaw drop.
“Then there’s the money the equipment manufacturers pay, and a commercial here or there for watches or jeans or a sports drink. It adds up fast, at least for the guys who make it onto the podium regularly. The sport still has plenty of ski bums, just trying to pay the freight for hauling ass around the world for races.” He squeezed her hand. “I used to be one of those. Before I started winning.”
* * *
“I’d still like you as a ski bum,” she blurted out. Those blue eyes and that curly hair… Even now she found it difficult not to stare.
He took a sip of his beer, his eyes still smiling at her. “I know you would. But the money just sits there in the bank. I don’t mean to be depressing, but I thought I was saving up for my own nursing home. And now I get to spend it on you and the baby instead. If I’m really lucky, I’ll get to do that in person.”
Her heart quivered. The last twenty-four hours with Dane had been great. But there were still so many difficulties.
“Sweet thing, look at me for a second?”
She raised her eyes.
“I know it’s supposed to be me who’s the poster child for getting one’s shit together. But you’ve had a hard time, too. You’re looking at some big changes. And I want you to know that I get that.”
Willow felt her eyes mist. “There’s a lot to figure out. And I know you have the Olympics coming up. You don’t need the distraction.”
He reached for her hand. “Three months ago, the Olympics seemed like the most important thing in the world,” Dane said. “But really, it’s just another handful of races. I know next year is going to be crazy. But it could be a good kind of crazy. You told me, breathe in, breathe out, repeat. So that’s my strategy. Maybe it should be yours, too.”
She toyed with the food on her plate. “But the baby will show up whether I’m ready or not.”
“And that’s why I want to help. Although, I’m not sure you’re ready to make big plans with me. Are you?”
She avoided his eyes with a tiny shake of her head. “I always give my heart away too fast. I just hand it right over. And then I’m shocked when things don’t work out. I’m trying hard not to do that again.”
Dane rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. “Willow, you need some time, and I won’t push you. But I wonder if you could take a few days off from work, about two weeks from now?”
“Probably. Why?”
“The U.S. National Championships are coming up—the last big downhill event of the season. It’s in California. Let’s go watch. You could see what I do.”
Willow sat back in her seat, surprised. Could she do that? Dane had an entire life that was foreign to her. But in the midst of trying to figure out her life, flaking off to California wasn’t really on the schedule. But when was the last time she had a vacation? Two years ago? Three? “I’d have to get someone to feed The Girls,” she mused.
“I think Travis owes you a favor.”
She tried not to flinch at the suggestion. “Well…I’d have to ask someone other than Travis.”
Dane’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh-oh. What happened?”
“We’re still friends. But he wanted to be more than friends, and I didn’t. I told myself it was because I was pregnant, and he wouldn’t want to deal with it. But the truth was, I just didn’t see myself with him. And I was still hung up on you.” She palmed her forehead. “Even though you weren’t speaking to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.
“I know that,” she whispered. It was her turn to reach across the table for his hand. “I’ll get someone else to help me. I want to go to California.”
His face lit up. “Awesome! I’ll look at plane tickets tomorrow. And hotels. This will be fun.”
The waitress slid their check onto the table, and Willow reached for her purse. But Dane grabbed the slip. “You don’t get to pay,” he said. “Ever.”
She paused, her hand on her wallet. “Why not?”
“Because you already did.” He sighed.
* * *
They went out into the night together, taking their time strolling back to the car. The snowstorm had brought one last burst of tourists into town for the final week of good skiing that season. She and Dane were just one couple in the stream of happy faces on Main Street.
Dane paused outside Rupert’s Bar and Grill. “I guess it wouldn’t be cool to go in together for a drink,” he said.
Willow peered in through the window. She didn’t see Travis behind the bar, but he was almost certainly in there. So she shook her head. “It’s too bad, isn’t it? It’s the only decent bar in town.”
“No biggie,” Dane shrugged. “I’d just as soon have one in your kitchen, anyway.”
Just then the door flew open, and two of the drunken lifties stumbled onto the sidewalk in front of them. Travis followed, breathing down their necks. “I put up with you chuckleheads for too long,” he said. “I see you in here again, and I’m going to call the cops. If Annie presses charges for harassment, I’ll be the first guy in line as a witness.”
Unfortunately, the third lifty appeared behind Travis just then. His face reddened with drunken rage, he coiled back a fist, which seemed poised to fly into Travis’s head.
“Watch…” Willow started to say.
But Dane was faster. Letting one crutch crash to the sidewalk, he brought his elbow down fast and hard on the guy’s raised arm.
The action upset the drunk’s posture, and he began to topple. Dane hitched himself back, pulling Willow with him before the man fell to the sidewalk.
Travis wheeled around, taking in his prone attacker, and then Dane and Willow.
“Urgh…” the fallen lifty said. He scrambled to his feet. And then after he’d scuttled well out of the way, he shot “asshole,”
over his shoulder. Then he chased his friends down the street.
“Coward,” Dane called after him, chuckling.
But Travis had forgotten about the lifties entirely. Willow felt his glance land on her, and on the protective hand that Dane had wrapped around her midriff when the drunk had flailed past them. Slowly, Travis leaned over and plucked the fallen crutch off the sidewalk, handing it to Dane. “Thanks for the help,” he said, his voice low.
“It was nothing,” Dane said.
Travis closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I haven’t seen either of you in here for a while. Wonder why that is?” He gave Willow a pained smile. “You coming in for a drink, or what?”
Willow swallowed hard, not sure what to say.
Travis held the door open wider. “Come on already,” he said. “My treat.”
They followed him into the bar. Willow sat down first. And while Dane tried to arrange himself on a bar stool, Travis pulled a pint glass off the rack. “So…” His kind eyes studied her. “What can I put in this glass for you, Wills?”
She met his knowing gaze. “How about cranberry and soda?”
“You got it,” he said with a quick nod.
When he walked down the bar, Dane cocked his head toward Travis. “So, when your drink order changes, everybody knows your secret? I never thought about it before.”
“Sure, but he already knew. I almost threw up on his shoes a couple of weeks ago. That’s when he offered to beat some sense into whoever…” She cleared her throat.
Dane whistled. “I’d be offended if I didn’t deserve it.”
Travis came back with Willow’s drink. He set two packets of crackers down next to it. “That’s for your stash,” he said with a wink. “Now, what can I get you, dude?” His face was perfectly friendly, but Willow saw his hands grip the bar top as if he might strangle it.
“A St. Pauli Girl would be great, thanks.”
“Comin’ up.”
When he turned away, Dane leaned quickly over to Willow gave her a surreptitious kiss on the cheek. “It’s my new favorite beer. Come with me to Germany for a race some time, and we can get you a blouse like the one on the label.”
Willow tipped her head back and laughed. “These days, I could almost fill it out. Excuse me, while I visit the ladies’ room for the tenth time tonight.” It was another fun symptom of pregnancy, having to pee every ten minutes. She squeezed his shoulder on the way toward the door.
* * *
Travis flipped a coaster onto the bar in front of Dane. Then he put the beer bottle down and fixed him with a stare. His expression was just burning up with resentment.
“So just say it already,” Dane sighed.
“Okay I will.” Travis closed his eyes. “I don’t know what went down between you, but she was distraught.” He shook his head. “I don’t see how you deserve her.”
“I’m not in a position to argue the point right now,” Dane said. “But I’m working on it.”
“See that you do. Because if you screw this up, I will kill you.”
Dane nodded. “If I screw this up, I’ll let you.”
The bartender’s smile was sad. “I mean, goddamn it. I’m very perceptive, usually,” Travis shook his head. “And I didn’t have this one figured out.”
“Sorry to spoil your record.” Dane swigged his beer.
Travis tapped his fingers on the bar, thoughtful. “Look, I should tell you how sorry I was to hear about your brother. Really. I had no idea.”
Dane felt the blood rush to his face, and he wondered where Travis had heard about Finn, and what he knew. Deep breath, Dane reminded himself. It didn’t matter anymore if people knew. The family curse was ending, and he had to get used to the idea. “Thank-you,” he stuttered.
“Tough couple of months for you, then.” Travis picked up his bar mop and began shining the wooden surface.
“Absolutely,” Dane said, taking another swig. “And I handled them piss-poorly.” He saw Willow coming back into the bar from the hallway. “But now things are looking up.”
“Good answer,” Travis smiled. “Guess I won’t kill you just yet.” He moved down the bar.
Dane watched Willow approach, and it filled him with joy just to see her coming to sit down next to him. He didn’t deserve her, but she was here anyway.
“Everything okay?” Willow asked, her eyes flicking toward Travis.
He covered her hand with his, amazed at its small size. “He threatened to kill me, but we’re cool.”
Her eyebrows disappeared into her hair. “How’s that?”
He picked her hand up off the bar and kissed it. “It’s the kind of thing you can only understand if you have a dick.”
Willow smiled at him over the rim of her glass, and it made him want to take her home to bed immediately.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The PA system below them announced that the first skier was on course.
“Sweet,” Dane said. “So, look uphill. Because it takes longer to brush your teeth than to run a downhill course. This one is under two minutes.”
Willow waited. The sky above Lake Tahoe was impossibly blue. She could see it reflected back in Dane’s sunglasses. But she wasn’t as interested in the view of the lake as in the view of the guy. He was, truth be told, impossibly handsome. His curly hair shone in the sun, and his freshly shaved face smiled down at her.
They’d spent a lot of time together the past two weeks. While Willow was at work, Dane put in grueling days at the gym or physical therapy. In the evenings, he’d taught her all the card games he’d learned from years on the road with other skiers. He was fun and attentive, and surprisingly relaxed, as if a great burden had been lifted from his heart. She gripped his hand and turned her attention uphill.
After a minute, Willow could sense the approach of the skier because shouts of encouragement were audible on the hill above them. Then, as she looked up toward the bend, a figure came shooting into view, crouched into a tuck, legs stretched so far to the side that he ought to have toppled over. Before she could even register the motion, he was centered again, tearing past her at an inhuman speed. A second later, he crossed the finish line—painted red on the snow—to the sound of cheers.
“Jeez!” Willow said. The skier swept around, coming to a stop in front of the crowd. He ripped off his goggles and stared up at the electronic timing board. “That is what you do?” She turned to Dane, her eyes wide.
“Yes, ma’am. Except faster.”
“And cockier.” She giggled.
“That, too.”
Dane rubbed his hands together and pointed up the course. “So, the best seeded racers come down first. The course gets chewed up by the time the guys in the back of the pack come down.”
“How is that fair?” Willow asked, staring up the white expanse.
“It isn’t really fair,” he said. “In most of these races, you get two runs. And then they reverse the order of the seeds on race number two. And there’s time trials, for starting fresh…” He laughed. “It’s a bunch of technical bullshit, honestly. We put up with it because it’s fun to go fast.” He scanned the crowd below them. “It’s weird being here without skis on.”
“Soon,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Though, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in one of those tight racing suits.”
He chuckled. “I’ll put one on for you tonight, baby.”
The PA system announced that J.P. McCormack was up next.
“Hey—this next guy could win. He’s seeded in the middle, but having a great season. If you turn around, we can see his start.”
Willow looked toward the video feed on the press box. On the screen, a helmeted, goggled racer poled fast out of the starting gate, then dug into a tuck.
“Come on, J.P.!” Dane clapped. His eyes were glued to the screen. Willow watched Dane’s body lean to the right as the skier made his first turn, then lean to the left as the course corrected. It was adorable—as if he were skiing the race with
him. The skier made a series of heart stopping turns, hanging his body impossibly low to the surface of the snow.
Next came a jump of such monstrous proportions that Willow held her breath. “Fuck,” Dane whispered as the racer’s arms windmilled in the air.
The landing was rough, the skier’s legs coming down awkwardly, wider apart to her eyes than looked comfortable. He lurched to the right, and Willow heard Dane suck in his breath. But then, miraculously, he corrected his position and tucked again. “Like a boss!” Dane yelled. “Can’t believe that worked.” His eyes were glued to the screen. “Only two-tenths back on the split!” he said. “He could almost do it.”
A minute later, the skier shot into view on the last turn, tucking tight toward the finish. Dane put his fingers to his lips and whistled. The guy glided to a stop about ten feet from them. He absorbed his time with a solemn nod.
Dane cupped a hand to his mouth. “J.P.!”
The guy looked in their direction. When he found Dane’s face, his expression went first to surprise. And then he grinned. He kicked his skis off, stacked them together and started over to the fence. “Danger! To what do we owe the honor?”
“That was some sweet recovery, dude. Well played.”
The guy looked shocked. “Well, thanks. We’ll see if I can hold it together for the second run.”
Dane clapped him on the back. “Look, in Italy, when I said…”
J.P. waved a hand. “I don’t think we’re responsible for the things we say right after a bone breaks.”
“Well, anyway,” Dane cleared his throat. “Nice run.”
“Why was he so surprised that you complimented him?” Willow asked after J.P. moved on.
Dane grimaced. “Nothing gets by you, does it?”
“You two don’t get along?”
Dane took off his shades and looked at her, his blue eyes especially bright in the wintry glare. “It’s not just him. I’m not known for being warm and cuddly.”
Willow put her arms around his waist. “I beg to differ.”
He grabbed her butt and held her close. “It’s true, though,” he closed his eyes and gave her one very nice kiss. “Also, I’m not known for showing up with a girlfriend. The men probably think I’m gay.”
