Just Let Go

by Courtney Walsh

  “It’s no big deal,” Jaden said. “Some guy was being a jerk and Grady shut him up.”

  “What does that mean, ‘shut him up’?” Carly asked.

  “He got in a fight,” Quinn said. “At Hazel’s. Put a hole in the wall, broke a bunch of stuff. So now he’s stuck here doing community service.”

  “Oh, yeah, they were talking about this at the nurses’ station.” Carly set her coffee down. “Was that Dad’s idea?”

  “Dad and Judge. The two of them together are out to teach this guy a lesson, but he doesn’t listen to anyone.”

  Carly stopped, her mouth twitching upward into a nearly undetectable smile. “I’ve never seen you this worked up about anyone before.”

  “Knock it off.” Quinn walked to the cupboard and pulled out a travel mug. She could see where this was headed, and she needed to make a quick exit—but she wanted the coffee.

  “Good-looking Olympic athlete meets small-town flower shop owner?” Carly raised her eyebrows. “I like it. It has promise.”

  “You’re off your nut if you think I feel anything but utter irritation for this guy.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “He said he’d take me skiing,” Jaden said.

  Carly’s eyes darted to her son. “Seriously?”

  “Jaden, don’t get your hopes up. This is the kind of guy who says whatever he thinks people want to hear. He’s probably going to get one of his big, fancy lawyers out here to overturn Judge’s decision, and he’ll be gone before he ever has a chance to go anywhere with you.”

  “You don’t know that.” Jaden’s mouth was half-full. He swallowed. “He could totally make good on that promise, take me skiing, fix my turns, correct my form, and send me on my way to the Olympics.”

  “Jay.” Carly frowned.

  Jaden shoveled another bite into his mouth, then grabbed his lunch and his backpack. “I gotta go.” He didn’t wait around for good-byes.

  “Should I give him a ride?” Quinn glanced out the window and saw him walking toward the school.

  “He likes the walk sometimes. Says it helps him clear his head.” Carly took another sip of her coffee. “What am I going to do with that kid?”

  “Carly, I’m worried about him putting too much faith in Grady. I know Jaden’s been let down in the past, I just don’t want to see him get hurt.” The thought of it squeezed her heart like a vise. She loved that kid. He might as well have been all of theirs—hers, Carly’s, Dad’s. Even Beverly, Judge, and Calvin would claim Jaden as their own.

  How could she protect her nephew from getting his heart broken again at the hands of a thoughtless man?

  Carly tore a banana from the bunch and stuck it in her open lunch bag. Quinn could see that her sister’s defenses had gone up. After all, in her mind, it was her own actions that had led to Jaden’s heartache. She’d gotten pregnant when she was just seventeen, and her high school boyfriend—Jaden’s “dad”—had all but disappeared. Over the years, Josh Dixon had broken promises to his only son, so many that Jaden now refused to see or even speak to the man.

  But none of that was Carly’s fault—surely she knew that.

  “I just don’t know what to do with him, Q.” Carly’s eyes were glassy and she blinked back tears. “He hates school, has very few friends. The only thing he has any interest in is skiing, but it’s so impractical. Does he really think he’s going to make it to the Olympics?” Carly grabbed a tissue and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “I don’t get it, Quinn. The first time he ever skied was with Josh—did you know that?”

  Quinn shook her head.

  “It might be the only time his dad has actually shown up for him. What if he’s holding on to skiing just because it’s the one thing that connects him to his dad?” Her tears betrayed her.

  “I think you’re reading too much into that,” Quinn said. “Maybe that’s why he started, but I think now he just genuinely loves it.”

  “Like you genuinely love owning Mom’s flower shop?”

  Quinn stilled. “That’s different.”

  Carly’s nonverbal reply told her that her sister wasn’t so sure.

  “Anyway, we aren’t talking about me here,” Quinn said, steering the conversation away from uncharted waters. “Jaden came to the diner yesterday morning. And that’s when he met Grady. When I dropped him off at school, honestly, Car, it was weird. He walked in like the Invisible Man. It was—”

  A tear streamed down her sister’s face.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No. I understand. It was sad, right? Jaden made you sad.”

  “No, he didn’t make me sad. He just seemed sad. Something about the whole scene—yeah, I guess it was sad.”

  “You have to talk to Grady.”

  “What? Why?” Quinn felt her face contort. She hoped it was enough to convey her horror at the thought.

  “I know it’s not fair, but if he said he’d take Jaden skiing, we have to make sure that happens for him.”

  Quinn shook her head. “I don’t want to get in the middle of that. Grady Benson is a thorn in my side that I will only deal with in order to pull off this carnival. I don’t want to talk to him otherwise.”

  “Please, Quinn. For Jaden. Doesn’t he deserve one sliver of happiness?”

  “I thought you wanted him to focus on school? To let go of these silly skiing dreams?”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “He wasn’t listening to me.” She sighed. “I told him he had to focus on school, but I never said he had to quit skiing. I can’t get through to him.” Another sigh—this one heavier than the last. “If he’s passionate about this, shouldn’t I at least try and support him?”

  “Of course. But, Car, do you really think Grady Benson is just going to take some fifteen-year-old kid skiing for fun?”

  Carly shrugged. “Do you think he has a bunch of better offers while he’s here?”

  Given how Ashley Perkins was throwing herself at him last night, Quinn would say that was a definite yes.

  “I’ll pay. I have some money saved up.” Carly took a step closer to Quinn. “You’re right—Jaden’s had his heart broken so many times. Josh hasn’t done anything but let that kid down. But I’m losing him, Q. If we can make this happen for him, maybe it’ll turn things around?”

  Quinn’s mind was spinning. How was she going to convince Grady to make good on his promise? She’d have to speak to him, and while that didn’t appeal to her at all, asking him for a favor appealed to her even less.

  Still, if Quinn couldn’t swallow her pride for two of the people she loved most, what kind of person was she?

  But as she left her sister’s house, a knot had formed in her stomach at the thought of seeing Grady again. Because she’d rather have a root canal than put herself at his mercy.

  Cedar Grove was the kind of place Grady imagined people loved to vacation in the summer. The cottage was remarkable, really, and when he and Ryan were working yesterday, he’d learned that Ryan was responsible for renovating the whole thing by himself.

  Grady couldn’t imagine doing something like that. He’d never been much for manual labor—he’d never had to be. He’d always been a skier, for as long as he could remember.

  But Ryan? He never stopped moving. Never sat down. Never took a break. He was always working—and cottages like this one were the result. Lois had wide-planked wood floors, which Ryan had refinished himself. Apparently Lane had decorated the place in her “signature style,” which he would call cozy, though he was sure there was an actual name for the white woodwork, distressed white furniture, and neutral colors with the occasional visual grab from a teal pillow or a red vase. The whole place felt a lot more like home than anywhere Grady had stayed the last few years, but it was quiet. And sometimes, quiet was his greatest enemy.

  Wednesday morning, he got up, checked his phone—no messages—and decided to get down to Hazel’s a little early. Ryan said they o
nly had about a day left of work. But that wouldn’t sway the judge when it came to his sentence. Instead, he’d move from helping out at Hazel’s to helping out with this Winter Carnival thing.

  He showered, then pulled on a pair of jeans and a gray hoodie with the Olympic logo on it. Was it foolish to wear it given that nobody thought he’d make the team this year?

  Why had everyone counted him out? Did they all see something he didn’t? Was his ego so intertwined with his abilities that he couldn’t pull them apart?

  It was a ridiculous thought. He was Grady Benson. That meant something where he was from. He was a world champion. He set the standard.

  Surely all of that wasn’t behind him.

  Not the kind of thoughts he wanted to dwell on. The road into town ran parallel with the lake, a view he was pretty sure he could never get tired of. He’d grown up landlocked in Colorado, which is where he started skiing—so he’d never known the benefits of living near the water. He wondered if the people who lived in Harbor Pointe knew what they had in that view or in the peace it seemed to bring to an otherwise turbulent mind.

  Not that he minded the internal turbulence. It kept him on his toes. It kept things interesting, including his skiing. It’s why his coaches didn’t love coaching him, why they called him reckless and unteachable. He had too much going on inside, and going as hard and fast and messy as he could was the only way to silence those demons.

  But those were also not thoughts he wanted to dwell on.

  Hazel’s Kitchen, sandwiched between so many other brightly painted shops with striped awnings, came into view. He should feel like a complete jerk every time he passed this place, but somehow he didn’t. It was like the people of Harbor Pointe were intent on bringing him into their fold, as if he could ever fit in a place like this. Sweet of them to try, though, he supposed.

  Most of them tried, anyway. There was still that sheriff’s daughter.

  He’d gotten a kick out of making Quinn squirm the night before at that winter festival meeting—just seeing him join her circle had caused her face to turn red. It was possible that amused him a little more than it should’ve.

  Hazel’s in the morning, at least as far as he could tell on his fourth day in town, was busy and bustling. While he didn’t know Betsy, it was obvious that she was well loved here.

  As soon as she saw him, she beelined his way, her face almost as wild as her hair. “You’re early.”

  “Thought I’d get a head start on the day,” Grady said.

  Betsy grinned. “Follow me.” When they reached the table near the back of the diner, she poured him a cup of coffee. “What do you want this morning?”

  Grady handed her the menu. “Pancakes, bacon, eggs, and the coffee.”

  “You got it.” She jotted his order down on her pad of paper and was gone.

  Grady’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that it was Pete. About time. While his manager made him think this whole situation was hopeless, Grady knew better. Everyone—even a small-town judge—had a price.

  “Tell me you’ve got good news,” he said after clicking on the phone.

  There was silence on the other end.

  “Pete?”

  “I’m afraid it’s not good news, Grady.”

  Grady let out a heavy sigh. “I’m stuck here, then?”

  “It’s not about that.” Pete sounded tired. He paused for several seconds.

  “Just tell me.”

  “It’s Bowman.”

  “What about Bowman?”

  He’d been the face of Bowman Skis since he first came on the scene. They’d wanted someone who could energize alpine skiing, and they liked Grady’s no-nonsense approach to the sport. “You don’t mess around, Benson. You just get out there and do your thing.”

  It was the same trait so many coaches had tried to “fix” over the years. And here he had landed a huge endorsement deal because he’d rocked the boat a little and ignored all that advice.

  Pete had gone quiet again.

  “Pete, hurry up and tell me.”

  “They dropped you.”

  Grady’s heart sank. “They what?”

  “Your contract was up two weeks ago,” Pete said.

  “Right, we were waiting on the paperwork.”

  “Turns out there is no paperwork. They’re going to sign Matthew Phillips.”

  “The kid?”

  Pete sighed. “They want someone young and fresh.”

  It hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. That had been him only a few years ago. What had changed?

  “They think I’m finished,” Grady said. The sting of saying it out loud needled him.

  “Doesn’t matter what they think. All that matters is getting back up there and crushing your last time.”

  “But it does matter, Pete. Without that money, how am I going to take care of Benji, let alone myself?”

  “We’ll figure something out.”

  “You’re a miracle worker, Pete, but if you believe what they’re saying online, even you are going to have trouble fixing this.”

  “Don’t underestimate me. Or you. You’ve never gotten caught up in your negative press before.”

  “Because it was always about my attitude or my ego. I don’t care about any of that stuff. When they start talking about my skiing, that’s a different story.” Made his blood boil, if he was honest. Because he couldn’t respond—he’d just look like a spoiled athlete who didn’t know his glory days were behind him.

  “What are you saying? You want to retire?”

  Grady hated that the word had even entered their conversation. “Of course not.”

  “There’s no shame in it. You’ll always be one of the best.”

  “I can’t go out like this. I can’t go out after failing to get back on the team. Besides, retirement will have a lot more opportunities if I go out on top—isn’t that what you’ve always said?”

  Pete sighed. “Yeah, it is. I can’t believe you were listening.”

  “I was listening.” The only problem was, he’d never actually considered that the choice might not be his. He’d never thought there would be a sliver of a chance he wouldn’t make it on the team. Now? He seemed to be the only one who thought he had a shot.

  “I’ve got a few phone calls to make, but I wanted to give you the update. Keep your head down out there and get through this community service. You gotta get some training in.”

  “Gonna be pretty hard.” Grady looked down at the plate of food in front of him. He had no memory of Betsy bringing it, but suddenly his appetite was gone.

  “Do the best you can with what you’ve got.” Pete hung up, leaving Grady reeling from their conversation. Without that endorsement money, he was done. He’d have to get rid of his condo. And Benji—he didn’t want to think about what it would do to him.

  His text alert went off.

  Speaking of Benji . . . He hadn’t been back to see his brother in years, but they still kept in touch, which was more than he could say for the rest of his family.

  They’re saying you’re out of the running for the Olympic team. Don’t listen to the haters. You’ve got a few more years left in the tank. How are things in Michigan?

  Grady stared at the words on his screen.

  A few years left? Benji was being generous.

  Why was Grady suddenly unsure? And if he didn’t make the team—what then? What did a professional athlete do with his life when the public decided they’d had enough of him? When his body couldn’t keep up with the eighteen-year-old up-and-comers? When the people who were supposed to stick by him until the end abandoned ship too soon?

  What was left for Grady Benson now?

  CHAPTER

  10

  GRADY TOOK A TWENTY-DOLLAR BILL OUT OF HIS WALLET and threw it on the table next to his plate of untouched food. Betsy rushed over, and he didn’t want to be rude, but he really needed to get out of that suffocating diner with the onlookers and the reminder that he was
100 percent stuck here.

  Four years ago, one shot would’ve been all he needed. It was practically a given that if he showed up at any race, he would easily win—and more than that, the team would be thankful they had him. Sure, he had his quirks, but they’d learn to live with them. After all, he was the one who got it done.

  It had been bad enough only winning bronze and silver medals at the first two Olympics he’d competed in, but not medaling at the last games had been the crushing blow that started this downward spiral.

  “Are you leaving?” Betsy stood off to the side. “Was there something wrong with your food?”

  “No, it’s great. I just have something I need to take care of. Can you tell Ryan I’ll be back in a little bit?”

  “Of course.” She picked up the cash he’d left. “You don’t have to pay for this.”

  But Grady didn’t turn around or respond. Instead, he stormed toward the front door, reaching it just as Quinn Collins was coming in. She stopped as soon as she saw him, but he barreled through. He didn’t have time to navigate her irritation with him.

  Outside, Grady found his Jeep Grand Cherokee, which he’d purchased to haul ski equipment. Thankfully, it turned out the SUV was surprisingly fast. If there was one thing he needed, it was a fast car. Given that the speed limit everywhere in Harbor Pointe was around thirty miles per hour, however, he was going to have to risk leaving town to get the kind of rush he craved.

  He headed back toward Cedar Grove, which was on the outskirts of Harbor Pointe from what he could tell. He was careful to drive the speed limit, though there was something like a bomb ticking off the seconds on the inside of him. A brown Volvo cut him off at the last intersection out of town, going twenty-five.

  He inched out over the center line, checking the oncoming traffic. It wasn’t a passing zone, but he didn’t care. He zipped around the Volvo and sped off down the highway, ten, twenty, thirty miles over the speed limit. He cranked his music as he accelerated.

  He replayed his conversation with Pete as he rounded a curve. Bowman wasn’t just a company to Grady. They’d been like family. Endorsing their skis, wearing their logo—it was a sign that he was on top.