She turned to follow Evangeline out, but her friend was standing stock-still, her mouth open. “What?”
“You’d do that for me?” Evangeline asked, sounding like it was the best idea ever. “For real?”
Charlotte laughed at her friend’s starry-eyed expression. “I’ll see what I can do. Now, let’s go so you can watch the ass responsible for starting wars.”
They made it to the course in time to catch Luke, who was chatting with his trainer before taking the lift up. Charlotte wound an arm around his waist. “If I asked nicely, could you introduce Evangeline to Kit?”
Luke shot Evangeline an amused smile. She didn’t notice—Kit was about to take his run, and her eyes were glued to the starting gate. “That’s one hell of a crush. She’s not stalkerish, is she?”
“Not that I know of. I’ll vouch for Kit’s relative safety.”
“Speaking of safety,” Luke’s coach said, “be careful up there. It looks icy after all that snow. Follow your line, be conservative.”
“Who am I going up with?” Luke asked, watching as the buzzer went off and Kit shot out of the gate.
The coach snorted. “Tucker.”
“Tucker? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Charlotte almost recoiled at the look of loathing on Luke’s face. He looked…dangerous.
“Better get used to it. Odds are good you’ll race him next week, especially if you make the semis, and it’s almost a certainty if you make the finals.”
Charlotte touched Luke’s arm. “Will you be okay?”
Luke’s expression relaxed into a smile, even though a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
He left her then, heading for the lifts. Charlotte’s pulse raced.
He didn’t look fine.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Luke
Luke cursed under his breath on the way to the gondola. When he made it to the platform, Tucker was already there, waiting.
The kid’s expression was hard. “I knew it’d be you.”
“Who the fuck cares?” Luke asked, although it was damn clear they both did.
Tucker smirked. “The girl with the huge tits seems to.”
Luke stepped close, cocking his head. “I better not catch you looking at her. But I understand. It must be frustrating being the only virgin on the course. So which is your girlfriend? Left hand or right?”
Tucker clenched his jaw. “You don’t know a fucking thing, do you? Girls like that make a guy slow. Too much to lose to take good risks.”
A pang hit Luke between the ribs, remembering Michael’s warning. But what the fuck did this kid know? Charlotte was good for him. He could feel it in his bones.
Tucker laughed. It was ugly. “You really think it’ll all be fine. What happens if you do make it? When you head off to Australia for summer training? Girls aren’t going to wait around. The whole time, you’ll be wondering…which guy is sticking his hand down my girlfriend’s pants while I’m gone? That kind of drama isn’t worth it to me. I’m serious about winning.”
Anger boiled in Luke’s chest. “Spoken like a guy who never had anyone.”
“But I’ve been on the circuit. I’ve seen guys staring at their phones in the hospitality room. Wiping out on the next run because they’d been dumped by text.” Tucker smiled coldly. “Could be you next time.”
Luke glared down at the kid to remind him who he was dealing with. “I’ll be just fine. Worry about you, buttercup.”
They didn’t say another word as they climbed into the gondola. Much as he hated it, a tiny kernel of doubt embedded itself in his mind. Charlotte deserved the best a guy could give. What if she decided chasing an SBX hopeful around the world wasn’t worth it?
What if she went to medical school and met someone who didn’t risk his neck on a mountain every day?
Goddamn it. Stop this. You have work to do. Shake it off.
At the top, Tucker flew out onto the starting platform like a shot.
“Getting to the starting gate first doesn’t win races, asshole,” Luke called after him, taking his time. Tucker had claimed the third gate—the prime starting point—so Luke went to number two. He’d be on Tucker’s outside, which would slow him down, but it would also make it harder for Tucker to knock him off course.
“Sixty seconds,” said the automated voice.
Breathe, visualize a path. Forget Tucker. He’s a flea.
“Forty-five seconds.”
Icy course. Watch the turns. Stay low. Go fast.
“Thirty seconds.”
Luke rolled his shoulders and waggled on his board to make sure he was ready to push off.
“Fifteen seconds.”
What if she does leave you? What if getting serious was a mistake?
“Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…”
Luke crouched and let out a breath. Goddamn it! Stop worrying like an old lady and get ready to kick ass.
“Three…two…”
The buzzer blared overhead, and Luke shot out of his gate. Tucker was a blur slightly behind him. Michael had been right—the course was icy, and the snow crunched as he leaned into turn one. Tucker gained on him slightly, and Luke bore down harder, making up the distance as they went into turn two. The rollers here did a number on Luke’s knees, and the ice made it hard to stay upright. It took everything his core could give to stay on course.
Charlotte’s face flickered through his mind. Not smiling, but saying good-bye.
Damn it. Luke slipped going into the kicker and had to cut hard to stay on his line. Luckily, he flew off the kicker with more momentum than Tucker, landing and swerving into turn three with a clear lead. He took another jump, bobbing over the next set of rollers on the course, not bothering to check where Tucker was. Or letting himself admit that the kid had gotten into his head.
He took another jump, the earth falling away below his board. This one was a monster, throwing him across forty feet of empty space before he came down. The only clue as to Tucker’s position was how the kid was breathing down his neck. They swung into turn four.
The last jump would drop them onto a steep downhill run to the finish line. Luke flung himself forward, and his stomach lurched. When he landed, Tucker was only a few inches behind him. This was where Luke’s weight would come in handy. He leaned forward and got low. The wind stung at the lower half of his face, and flecks of snow scoured his goggles, but he had this.
The finish line came up, and he crossed it before Tucker.
Right beyond the spectator fence, Charlotte jumped up and down in excitement, a huge smile on her face. Fuck Tucker, what did he know? Nothing was going to stop Luke from being with this girl.
Before he could even raise his arms in celebration, something slammed into him from behind. Tackled off his feet, Luke landed hard, sliding downhill, right into a metal support post.
The lights went out.
“Luke? Can you hear me?”
Luke groaned and opened his eyes. He’d had the stupidest dream. Vivid-neon reindeer dancing against a dark-green background. Fireworks were going off, too. What the fuck?
He blinked a few times to find Michael standing over him. Behind him, Charlotte’s expression was horror-stricken. He struggled to sit up.
Why did Kit have Tucker in a headlock?
“What the hell happened?” he asked, his words slurred. “Fuuuck, my head hurts.”
Charlotte knelt next to Michael. “Luke? What’s my name?”
“Lovely Charlotte.” What, does she think I’m an idiot?
“My full name,” she said, her hand light on his wrist. She was taking his pulse.
Luke screwed up his face, trying to remember. “Charlotte… Charlotte…”
Oh, that wasn’t good. You should know the last names of the girls you slept with.
She was nodding slowly. “And what’s the date?”
He frowned. “Um…Sunday?”
“Date,” Michael said. “Not day.”
&nb
sp; “It’s not Christmas,” Luke insisted, wondering why his head felt filled with cement.
Michael and Charlotte exchanged looks, then Michael called over to someone. “We need a stretcher. He got his bell rung, possible concussion.”
“I’m wearing a helmet,” Luke said. Why was everything so confusing? If he could just focus…
“If you hadn’t been, we would’ve been talking skull fracture instead of concussion.” Michael sounded disgusted. “Kit, would you punch that jackass for me?”
“I’ll do better than that,” Kit growled, giving Tucker a shake when he struggled to get loose. “I’m filing a complaint. And I’ve already punched him.”
“It. Was. An. Accident,” Tucker said, panting. “Lemme go!”
Kit did…with a shove that sent the kid sprawling. “You better hope you aren’t close to me at any point during the race next week, because I will knock you on your skinny ass.”
Tucker, muttering curses under his breath, grabbed his board and stalked off. Michael grunted. “Good riddance.”
“Hey, Kit?” Luke said, then winced. Dwarves were taking tiny pickaxes to his brain. “Charlotte’s friend likes you. She’s hot. You should say hi.”
Kit’s eyebrows rose, while Charlotte buried her face in her hands, laughing weakly. Somewhere down the line, Evangeline yelled, “Would someone please shut him up?”
Ski patrol appeared with a stretcher. “Your chariot, sir,” the first officer said.
“I can walk.” Luke pushed himself to his feet, ignoring Charlotte’s shocked gasp. When the world tilted ninety degrees, he sat back down. “Never mind.”
“That’s what I thought.” The officer laughed. “Time for a little visit to the ER.”
Not even Luke could argue with that.
“Definitely a concussion. You need to rest. Do you have anyone to stay with you?” the ER doctor asked. She was younger than Luke had expected, and her hands were cold.
Weird what mattered when you’d been knocked out.
“Yes,” his mother answered, her face white and tense. “He’ll be at home with us.”
The ER had insisted on only family back in the patient area, leaving Michael and Charlotte out in the waiting room. Luke kind of wished they could’ve come back as a barrier between him and his mom. Man, she was pissed.
The doctor nodded at Mom. “All right then. Here’s a symptoms list. If you see anything new or if his symptoms worsen, bring him back. Otherwise, lots of rest and stay off that snowboard.”
Granted, Luke’s brain felt like it was swimming in Jell-O, but it took a second for him to get it. “Wait. I can’t snowboard?”
“Not for at least a week, no. Ten days is better. That’s my recommendation anyway. I suggest you take it.” The doctor’s voice was stern. “You’re lucky it’s not worse. Your noggin can’t take another crack like that for a while, or you might end up with real neurological damage.”
Luke’s chest seized. Not snowboard? For a week?
He opened his mouth to argue, but Mom put a hand on his arm. “Understood. Thank you.” She turned to Luke, her gaze rejecting any argument. “Let’s go home.”
A nurse insisted that he ride in a wheelchair, which only added more humiliation. When they rolled out into the waiting room, Michael and Charlotte jumped to their feet.
Mom paused next to them and held out a hand. “Charlotte, it’s nice to meet you. I wish it were under other circumstances.”
“Me, too, Mrs. Madison.” Charlotte shot a worried glance at Luke. “Everything okay?”
“Concussion.” The word had a finality coming out of Mom’s mouth. A finality Luke didn’t like.
“Enough with the chair,” Luke said, fed up. “I’m fine. I have a headache, that’s all.”
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “You have a bruise on your brain. That’s a little more than a headache.”
Luke refused to meet her gaze. Michael’s, either, for that matter. All he could think about was Michael warning him to focus, to stay on point for the competition. And he hadn’t. Not even close.
Guilt crawled up Luke’s throat. “Michael, I need a few days off. Can we check in on the thirtieth, see where I am?”
Michael’s mouth hung open. “We…shouldn’t train so soon. Let’s give it until the first.”
Panic joined guilt to swirl into a nauseating mess in Luke’s stomach. He couldn’t blow this. Not now. “That’s the day before the walk-through. I can’t wait that long. I’ll get rusty.”
Mom threw up her hands. “You shouldn’t race at all, Luke. You need to stay off that board at least a week.”
“The competition starts the third. That’s a week. I’ll be fine by then.” Luke started toward the door, not sure where he was even going—they weren’t going to let him drive—just needing to get out of there before he lost it.
A blast of cold air hit him in the face, and his head throbbed. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes, but he ignored it. A bump on the head was not keeping him out of this race. He’d get through this. He just had to focus.
A hand touched his arm. Charlotte. “Your mother is right. And you need ten days, not seven.”
Luke flinched at her touch. “The doctor said a week. I’m fine.”
“No, you aren’t.” Charlotte huffed out a breath, and white steam puffed on the air. “Remember, I’m studying to be a neurologist, and I worked with football players on a regular basis. Concussions are kind of my thing. Can you qualify for nationals another way?”
He turned away from her, feeling raw, like he’d been rubbed down with sandpaper. On the inside. Was there another way to qualify? Probably, but he was ready for this race. He’d let his guard down, had divided his attention, and look what had happened. Worse, he’d given Tucker exactly what he needed to get inside Luke’s head. A weakness to exploit. “There are protocols for head injuries. Michael knows them, and if I pass, I’m racing. End of discussion.”
“This isn’t about killing your dream, Luke. We care about you. You could end up with serious neurological problems if you aren’t careful.”
He started to walk away, needing to unsee the disappointed look on her face, but she tugged his arm, making him face her. “Be smart about this,” she said. “Enter a later regional. Let yourself heal and train more slowly.”
She didn’t get it. This was his whole world. This was what he’d worked toward for two years, running lower-level races without anyone knowing. All of that brought him here, and he’d be damned if he quit now.
Christ, his head hurt. He needed to sit, but that would only add fuel to her argument.
Chest aching, he took a few steps away from her. “I’ll be ready in a week,” he snapped.
Charlotte’s face flushed at his tone, and anger flashed in her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest. “And if you aren’t?”
She didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. “I will be.”
“Maybe you won’t. Are you still going to race if you aren’t a hundred percent?”
Luke didn’t answer. He didn’t know how, and wouldn’t until the third. If that meant living and breathing snowboarding—and nothing else—until then…
“I care about you,” Charlotte said, her voice breaking. “But this is stupid, Luke. S-t-u-p-i-d. I can’t stand to watch you do this to yourself.”
Luke’s head was going to fall off, it hurt so much, and his filters were set to zero. “Then don’t. The last thing I need right now is any distractions.”
He watched the color drain from her face as she got it. “Wait, you mean me? I’m a distraction?”
He wanted to say no, to take it back, but his mouth was working faster than his smashed-up brain. “Yeah. You are.”
The words rang like iron hitting stone in the cold air. Tears pooled in Charlotte’s eyes. She blinked fast to stop them. “Fine. Whatever. Go kill yourself on that mountain and don’t give a damn about the people who will make themselves sick watching. Just don’t count on me being one of them.�
��
She spun on her heel and stalked across the parking lot, got into her car, and left him standing in the cold.
Alone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Charlotte
Numb, Charlotte let herself into the café. She’d expected to rage and curse the whole way home, but she hadn’t. She’d driven in silence, hardly able to process what had just happened. How could he blame her? He’d called her a distraction. Like the concussion was her fault because they’d been hanging out…among other things.
Well, screw that. It wasn’t her fault. Not even. If he wanted to blame someone, he should blame Tucker. But she’d meant what she’d said—there was no way she could handle watching Luke risk everything.
So, she wouldn’t. In fact, she wouldn’t “distract” him in any way, ever again.
She closed the door behind her, jumping when Evangeline said, “How is he?”
Not ready to face her friend, Charlotte took her time hanging up her coat. “An idiot.”
A man laughed, not meanly, but in understanding, and Charlotte spun around. Kit Morgan was sitting at one of the tables, a coffee mug and an empty plate in front of him. He smiled at Charlotte. “Most SBXers are. A special brand of crazy—that’s what my mother says anyway.”
“Yeah, but I bet you wouldn’t be hell-bent on racing with a concussion,” Charlotte snapped, her anger finally getting the better of her. “You’d take it slow and see how you felt.”
Kit shrugged. “Maybe. But I have less to prove at this stage of my career. Six years ago? I might’ve done something that stupid. There are gold medalists out there who’ve raced a few days after concussions.”
“Then you’re all crazy.” Charlotte crossed the room, heading for the stairs.
“Hey, stay and talk about it,” Evangeline said. “Tell me what happened?”
A lump rose in Charlotte’s throat. She had too much to deal with. “I need to pack.”
Charlotte heard Evangeline murmur something to Kit, then her footsteps followed Charlotte up the stairs. “What is it, really? Is it the concussion, or did something else happen?”
Crazy Love Page 13
