Even in the darkness, Grady could see the hope on Jaden’s face, and it struck him how strange it was that he actually meant what he said. He wasn’t blowing smoke or stroking the kid’s ego. He wanted Jaden to be better than he’d been. Maybe because he deserved it more.
And one way or another, Grady wanted to help make it happen.
CHAPTER
28
GRADY STOOD AT THE TOP OF SUNSHINE MOUNTAIN, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Had it really only been a couple of weeks since his last real run? He fixed his goggles onto his face and drew in a deep breath.
Memories spun through his mind—past races, mistakes made, advice from coaches he’d mostly ignored. He latched on to all of it now, determined to extract the wisdom he’d discarded so many times before.
“You praying?” Jaden had come up beside him, but Grady hadn’t noticed.
“No. Just getting focused.”
Jaden gave him a nod, his expression serious, then closed his eyes. He was praying. Grady felt like he should look away—but Jaden didn’t seem to mind anyone watching him connect with his Creator.
“Let’s do it.” Jaden pulled his goggles down with a grin. “Any words of wisdom, Coach?”
“Yeah, don’t fall.”
And with that, he took off like a shot, certain the kid wouldn’t be able to catch him. Jaden might have youth on his side, but he didn’t have the power Grady had. That power was what had won world championships.
It was the little mistakes that seemed to cost Grady. Turning too soon. Overcompensating. Wanting it too much.
The thought startled him.
Wanting it too much? Was there such a thing?
He shot around a curve, body as close to the powder as he could get, then up over a rise, and for a brief moment he felt like he was floating. The sun shone behind him, making his visibility nearly perfect. His speed wasn’t there yet, but it would be after he knew the slope a little better. One, maybe two times down, and he’d have it.
Jaden’s words rushed back at him as the rest of the world fell away. Another jump—air between his skis and the ground.
How would it feel to really give up control? To trust that he could be carried by something greater than him? To believe that there was a God who cared enough to answer when Grady called?
But then, Grady never called. Not since he was fourteen.
He picked up speed as he zipped around to the right. He’d turned seconds too soon, but he corrected the error and kept going. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes like that.
Another jump—this one bigger than the others—sent Grady into the air. Weightless. Free.
As he came back down, he realized he’d never been in control up here. Not really. Sure, he could do all the things he knew how to do. He could cut and carve. He could practically fly, but he had no control over what happened. Not winning or losing. Not falling or failing. Why had he spent so many years thinking he did?
He shot through to the end of the run, then came to a stop. He was out of breath—out of practice.
The rest of the day, he worked. Tirelessly and like he never had before. When he wanted to quit, he thought of Quinn, Benji, and that spot on the team. Maybe he did want it too much, but if he could find a way to take that desire and turn it into something positive instead of something crippling, he was going to do it.
By the end of the day, he had a feel for the course. He’d practically memorized it, so now it was time to prove he still had enough gas in his tank to compete with guys ten years younger than him.
He stood at the top of the hill just as he had that morning, and Jaden showed up beside him. “There’s a crowd down there.”
Grady kept his eyes on the course, still imagining it in his head. Cut left. Jump. Turn right. Jump.
“Someone found out it was you up here,” Jaden said. “I think they could tell by the way you ski.”
Time was, that compliment would’ve affected Grady. Today, he saw it as a distraction. “Not doing this for them.”
Jaden smiled. “Yeah, I get it. You’ve got something to prove to yourself.”
Grady pulled his goggles over his eyes.
“Get it done, man. Give up control.”
Grady stood, perched on the precipice not unlike the mountains he’d conquered so many times before, but this one felt different somehow. It felt important.
For the briefest moment, he closed his eyes.
Okay, God. I’ll try it your way. You take control.
As his arms propelled him forward and he crouched in the stance he’d been perfecting for years, he heard Jaden’s words loud and clear echoing in the back of his mind.
“Give up control.”
Cut left. Jump.
With the wind beneath him, he started to feel it, that loss of himself, that surrender to something greater.
Turn right. Jump.
Midair, he did something he never did—he exhaled.
Another turn. Another jump. Another exhale.
Something bigger than him. It was here, on the slopes, every time he went over a hill. He’d always looked at it as cheating death—daring whatever it was that had been out there that day with him and Benji to come back and finish the job. But today, here, it all felt different.
He rushed through to the finish, same way he had so many times that day, but this time, a crowd had gathered, just as Jaden said. They cheered as he streaked by, but he didn’t care.
He bent at the waist as he slid to a stop. He’d given everything on that last run, left it all on the slopes, exactly like his coaches had told him to. For years, he thought he’d done that, but he’d always been holding back.
“You gotta ski with your heart, Grady,” Happy had told him. “That’s where the good stuff is.”
He got it now. Give up control and just ski. The rest was out of his hands.
He stood up and moved toward the crowd, most of whom were still watching him, some waiting for photos or autographs.
But before he could sign or pose, he heard someone shout, “We need help up here!”
He looked over and saw a guy who’d just barreled past. He called out again. “Can we get some help?”
Grady’s heart dropped. Oh no. Jaden.
“What’s going on?” He rushed over to the guy.
“There’s a kid up there. Crashed. I left my buddy up there with him so I could come get help.”
“Blue ski coat?”
“You know him?”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Quinn had just finished setting the table when Carly’s cell phone rang. She’d left it on the table and run outside because she forgot her purse in the car. Quinn thought almost nothing of it until it stopped and her own phone started ringing almost instantly.
She pulled it out and saw Grady’s name on her screen.
“Hey.” One word and she could tell something was wrong.
“What is it?”
“Are you with your sister?”
“Yeah, she’s outside. What’s going on?”
“Quinn, it’s Jaden,” he said. “There was an accident.”
Bad things always happened around Christmas. Didn’t it seem that way? Or maybe accidents simply seemed worse because of the time of year. This one sure did. Tomorrow, they were supposed to celebrate Christmas Eve at her dad’s. Instead, they’d be lucky if they were home from the hospital.
The drive up north felt like a nightmare. Their dad drove with Beverly riding up front and Carly and Quinn in the back.
Quinn was feeling downright irate with Grady for taking her nephew skiing in the first place and with Carly for letting him go. She wanted to scream, “I told you so!” like a dutiful (but annoying) little sister, but of course she didn’t.
She held her tongue. Because it wasn’t the time. And because Grady had given them almost no information as to what happened or how Jaden was doing or if he was going to be okay.
Quinn stared out the window, mind racing with horrifying possibilities.
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No. Stop it. He’s going to be fine.
Carly sniffed. Quinn reached over and took her hand. “He’s going to be okay.”
Quinn’s phone buzzed in her lap and she answered it before the first full ring ended. “Grady?” She put the phone on speaker.
“Hey,” he said. “We’re at the hospital now. They’re talking about surgery.”
“Surgery?” Carly practically shrieked. “On what?”
“Looks like his leg is broken,” Grady said. “They’re checking into a few other possible injuries.”
Carly grabbed the phone. “What kind of injuries?”
Grady paused. “They’re concerned about his head. He spun out of control and hit a tree. His helmet came off.”
“But you talked to him, right?” Carly asked. “He’s awake and everything?”
“Yeah, we talked a little,” Grady said.
He sounded exhausted. Worried. And it was in that moment that her anger began to dissipate.
“Where were you when he spun out?” Carly’s tone accused.
A brief pause, then, “I was already at the bottom.”
Carly scoffed. “So, what? He was trying to keep up with you?”
“No, he wasn’t. He—”
“I should never have let him go with you,” Carly cut in. “I should’ve listened to Quinn.”
“Carly—”
“He wasn’t ready. You were right.” Carly dropped the phone back in Quinn’s lap. “He was probably trying to show off for Grady and he wasn’t ready.” Her voice broke.
Quinn took the phone off speaker and stuck it against her ear. “You there?”
“I’m here,” he said, his voice quiet. “She’s right. It’s my fault. Jaden was my responsibility.”
“Grady, don’t say that.”
“I gotta go.”
“Grady—”
But he was already gone.
“You tried to tell me,” Carly said. “I should’ve listened. He’s a terrible role model for Jaden.”
“We don’t know what happened, Car,” Quinn said. “Grady may not have had anything to do with it.”
“I can’t believe it.” Carly faced her. “Are you defending him? My kid is in the hospital, and you’re defending the man who put him there?”
“He didn’t ‘put him there,’ Carly. It was an accident.” Quinn had clearly lost her mind. If anyone asked her later if she’d defended Grady on this point she would surely deny it.
Carly turned away.
“Your sister is right, Carly,” Dad said from the front seat. “You know Grady didn’t force Jaden out there. You couldn’t keep him off the slopes if you tried.”
Carly swiped her hand across her cheek.
“If anything, I have to say I think Grady has been good for Jaden,” Dad said.
And Quinn, for all her doubting, agreed. She never would’ve predicted it, but it was true, even in these circumstances.
Dad tried to catch Carly’s eye in the rearview mirror. “This injury—whatever it is—it’s a setback, not an ending.”
“But we don’t know that, Dad,” Carly said, voice breaking. “What if he can never ski—or walk—again?”
“No sense dwelling on the what-ifs,” Dad said. “Only one thing to do now.”
Carly’s head dropped, and once again, Quinn reached over and took her hand.
“Let’s pray.”
For three hours, Grady sat in the waiting room at the tiny hospital in a town he didn’t even know the name of. A paltry Christmas tree strung with popcorn and crocheted ornaments had been propped in the corner. It was hardly festive.
When he got tired, he stood. Paced. Tried hard not to replay the scene out on the slope. Tried even harder to keep his mind from spinning back to the day of Benji’s accident.
The visibility had been good that day too. The snow fresh. The trail clear.
If we’d just stayed on the trail . . .
Would Carly ever forgive him? Would Quinn? Maybe he’d overestimated Jaden’s abilities? Gotten too carried away with his own training and taken his eye off the kid? If he’d been paying closer attention, maybe he would’ve spotted an error in Jaden’s form or helped steer him back on track. He could’ve preempted this disaster.
Grady had reached Jaden just a few minutes before the medical staff.
“Buddy,” he’d said. “What happened?”
“Went for it, man, just like you said.” He tried to move but grimaced at the pain.
“Just stay still. We’re getting help.”
“Good. It’s all in God’s hands now.”
“What?” Grady flinched at the words.
“Out of my control.” The kid’s eyes fluttered shut.
“Jaden, stay awake,” Grady said, sure that letting him pass out was about the worst thing he could do.
Now, pacing the floor of the hospital waiting room for the millionth time, when he replayed the words, he balked.
How could he say it was in God’s hands? Hadn’t it been in God’s hands before he wiped out? Where was God then?
Where were you?
The doors slid open and Carly rushed through, followed by Gus, Beverly, and Quinn. The very sight of her settled something inside him.
Carly rushed past him to the front desk. “I need to see my son.”
“He’s still in surgery,” Grady said, drawing their attention. The medical staff had called Carly for her consent not long after he had hung up with Quinn.
“Have they given you any updates?” Carly asked.
Grady shook his head. He felt useless.
Carly turned back to the sturdy-looking nurse with tightly curled hair. “I need an update on my son.”
“Name?”
“Jaden Collins. He was in a skiing accident.”
“Have a seat,” the nurse said.
Carly leaned in closer. “You want me to sit down?”
“If you want information, you’ll have a seat.” The nurse glared.
“I’ve been sitting in a car for three hours, lady.” Carly might come unhinged.
Quinn put a hand on Carly’s shoulder as the nurse stared her down. “Let’s sit. She’ll find out what she can.”
Carly hesitated, but finally pulled her gaze away from the nurse. They all moved toward Grady and sat down.
“Did he say anything to you?” Carly asked. “Before they took him away?”
Grady met her eyes. “Yeah, actually. He said, ‘It’s all in God’s hands now.’”
Carly didn’t move. “Jaden said that?”
Grady nodded.
She covered her face with her hands and hurried to wipe the tears away as fast as they fell. Quinn slid an arm around her sister and glanced up at Grady, kindness in her dark-brown eyes.
“That’s one smart kid,” Gus said. “It’s all in God’s hands now.” He took Beverly’s hand and bowed his head.
The scene was different from when Benji was the one on the operating table. That day, there had been no prayer—for all of their religious talk, his parents didn’t seem to rely on God the way Quinn’s family did. Instead, his dad spent that time blaming Grady for the accident.
Maybe that was the day Grady stopped trusting in anything bigger than himself. Maybe he’d never seen genuine faith at work before.
But here it was, in front of him. And he had to wonder if it was the thing that had made Quinn different from the start.
Grady shifted, feeling not only like an outsider but an impostor. Would his own God issues hinder their prayers from reaching the heavens? He didn’t want to chance it. “Do you want me to get you some coffee?”
“I’ll go with you.” Quinn stood.
If she noticed his surprise, she didn’t let on. “I think the cafeteria is in the basement.”
Under different circumstances, getting coffee with Quinn might’ve been pleasant, even exciting. But he was wrung out, his emotions raw. This whole day had brought back too many memories, and along with them his old travel
buddies, guilt and shame.
She leaned against the wall of the elevator as he pushed the button that would take them to the basement. “What are you thinking about?”
He studied the gray floor of the elevator, maybe with a little too much interest. “My brother, actually.”
The elevator doors opened and the empty hospital cafeteria came into view. It was closed at this late hour, but there were vending machines off to the side. Hopefully one of them had coffee.
He fished some change from his coat pocket, thankful she wasn’t prodding him to go on. He’d been replaying that day, everything that happened with Benji, for hours. Saying any of it aloud would be nearly impossible.
And yet, she was safe. If there were ever a time to get it all out, this was it.
Wasn’t it?
“Do you want something?”
“A mocha would be good,” she said.
He nodded, stuck more change in the machine, and waited for it to spit out her drink. She took it from him and met his eyes. The great divide between them seemed to have lessened.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Jaden was right. It’s in God’s hands.”
He laughed. “You guys and your God talk.” He started toward a table in the dimly lit cafeteria. “Mind if we sit here a minute?”
She shook her head and sat across from him. “You don’t buy into all this God stuff?”
It was an important question, and he knew it. Not only because Jaden had told him this was one of the greatest differences between them, but because he could see it on her face. He shrugged. He didn’t want to lie to her. “I guess my idea of religion is a little skewed. My parents preached a lot, but I’m not sure how much they practiced.” But earlier that day—he’d given over control. And he’d felt genuinely free.
How did he keep that feeling once he was back on the ground?
Quinn gave a soft nod.
“I can tell it’s important to you and your family,” he said.
“It’s everything.” She looked away. “I can’t imagine getting through something like this without my faith. I think I’d end up angry.”
“At me?”
“At God.” Quinn met his eyes.
Something inside him shifted, and for a split second he felt like she could see straight through him.
Just Let Go Page 26
