Chapter Sixteen

Sam cried as she brushed snow off her car. She’d known the end was inevitable. But she’d only considered it happening on her terms. She’d set the agenda, she’d make the deal, she’d be the one to walk away. She’d only ever imagined herself calling the shots—just like she always did.

She got inside the car, teeth chattering, and cranked the heat, waiting for the ice on the windshield to melt. She was shivering, crying, and angry. She’d fucked up, she knew that completely. But she wasn’t the only one who’d been lying. It was all a sham, a goddamn lie. The whole front he’d presented, as though he were happy with his life.

And the final cherry on top of her shit sundae? She hadn’t even gotten off after he did. Her legs felt sticky. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she felt a sourness resembling shame.

But she wasn’t going to lose everything she’d worked for. She’d come here for a reason. It was time to remember what that was.

Set a plan and follow it, her father would say. Take one step, and the next will follow.

There was only one move left she could think of. She was going to go to her hotel and pack her things. Then it was time to get out of this town.

As Steven’s call had reminded her, she’d already stayed for too long.

…

For the first time ever, Austin was late to practice.

“Ooh, too much time with Sam?” Kelsey sang when he finally showed up in the lodge.

“Let’s get to work,” he said.

Kelsey smacked her gum loudly. “Aw, come on, Austin. Not even any juicy details?” The girls snickered. It was obvious they’d been talking about him the whole time they’d been standing around.

He got close to her face. “It’s Coach, not Austin. And spit out your gum.” He pointed to a trash can. “I’ve been going too easy on you. All of you.” He stared each of them down—especially Amelia. “Nothing about finals is guaranteed. You make it because you work hard. If you don’t want to put in the work, save me the trouble and go home.”

He never spoke like this, his voice clipped, his eyes cold. The girls shrank away.

“Now!” he barked at Kelsey. She flinched in surprise.

“Fuck you, too, Coach,” Kelsey muttered under her breath as she slumped over to the trash. Austin talked right over her, coming up with the toughest sequence he could think of for the day’s lesson.

“And anyone who drops a ski on the balance runs is doing sprints when we get back,” he added. “Am I clear?”

He’d never heard so much complaining.

“Guess he got dumped,” Kelsey grumbled as they lined up for the lift.

Austin kept his face stony, as though he’d heard nothing. Why should he care what a bunch of kids said? Why care what anyone said? He had his life, his friends, his dog, his routine. He’d let himself get too wrapped up in some stranger he’d never expected to stick around anyway, and now he’d learned his lesson. No more distractions. No more Sam.

The girls started running their drills, but it was terrible. The team was angry. Austin kept snapping at them, making everything worse. He knew the times he expected from them were out of reach for anyone but Amelia, but even she kept falling short.

When she got to the bottom of the trail, he pulled her aside.

“Come on,” he shouted. “What’s going on out there? Your pole touches are sloppy, your pivot slips aren’t low enough, and you’re still not forward on the first gate. Stop holding back and get to work!”

“It’s practice,” Amelia protested. “I wasn’t treating it like a real race.”

“When are you going to treat this like a real race?” He got up in her face, making sure she knew how serious he was. “If you don’t do the work now, you’ll never be ready, and I can guarantee that spot in Utah will go to someone who is.”

Amelia’s eyes widened, then rimmed with red. He knew he was being harsh, but didn’t she get it? This wasn’t some practice run before her real life got started. This was it, the only shot she had. He didn’t want her to lose it.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” she said through clenched teeth, “I’m trying.”

“Well, try harder.”

“I am,” she repeated. “But I guess nothing I do is good enough for you. Looks like you’re just going to have to get used to being disappointed.”

She said it with a scowl, and Austin might have let it go—he had the rest of the team to attend to—but he was so stunned, it cut through the fog that had enveloped him ever since he’d picked up the phone and heard the words, “This is Steven Park.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Seriously? It’s like if I don’t ski hard enough you’ll be pissed, but if I ski any harder I’ll blow out and then I really will break my nose.”

“I can’t believe you think that.” All the anger melted out of him like snow trickling into a stream. “I can’t believe you think I could be disappointed in you.”

A tear slid down her lashes and onto her cheek. “Of course you’re going to be disappointed. I’m, like, basically guaranteed to let you down. You have this idea that if we work hard enough, we can have anything.”

“But you can,” he said, not understanding. “Whatever it is you want, each of you on the team, I want you to know you can get it.”

“But then what if I bomb the finals and this Utah thing doesn’t work out? What if I fall or miss a gate or am a tenth of a second too late? That must mean I didn’t work hard enough, I didn’t really want it, it’s all my fault.” Her eyes widened as imaginary disasters danced in her mind.

“That’s not at all what I mean,” Austin said in alarm. “Are you stressed about the finals? I know you’ve got this. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“But what if it doesn’t work the way you think it will? What if I try my hardest and I’m still not good enough? What if I never wind up being as good as you?”

She swallowed, waiting for him to assure her the world still worked in the neat little ways he said it did: set your eye on a goal, follow through, complete it as planned.

But he couldn’t. Because Amelia was right.

“Okay,” he said. “You want me to be honest?”

She nodded.

“It might not happen. It might all fuck up—I mean mess up,” he said quickly, and she snickered and rolled her eyes, “in a spectacular way.” He tapped his pole to his knee. “I’ve had some experience with that.”

“So?” she said quietly. “What if that happens to me?”

“I can guarantee what happened to my knee will never in a million years happen to you,” he said firmly. “And some day that’s not today, I’ll tell you how I know that. But yeah, something else might happen. There’s always a chance you won’t make it as far as I think. But that doesn’t mean it’s your fault. And it certainly doesn’t mean I’ll think any less of you. If things don’t go as planned, we’ll come up with a new plan. Okay?”

She nodded, wiping her eyes. “Okay.”

“Now get out of here. The rest of the team is leaving us in the dust.”

Amelia bit her lip, like there was one last thing she wanted to say.

“What?” he asked. “Out with it.”

“Did you and Sam have a fight? Is that why you’re so pissy today?”

Why couldn’t he coach five-year-olds instead? Or adults. People who got that life was complicated and there were some things you couldn’t come back from, situations where you tried and tried to do everything right and still it wound up all wrong.

“Mind your own business or I’ll make you run stairs in the gym after practice,” he said gruffly.

“You should just tell her you’re sorry and make up. She’s nice and gorgeous and you should see the way she looked at you when you guys met. Seriously.” She eyed him solemnly. “Don’t do that thing guys do when they get all dumb and won’t talk.”

“Amelia, I know you’re trying to tell me I’m pushing you too hard, but I swear to God—”

“I know, I know, you’ll make me run stairs.” She used her poles to push away from him and skated over to the lift.

“And tell the girls to stop gossiping!” he shouted after her, even though he knew it was hopeless.

But at least she was laughing, which hopefully meant she didn’t think he was a total asshole for the way he’d been acting at practice. And that she wouldn’t keep psyching herself out on these runs.

It wasn’t like he’d talk about his dating life with his team, but he wished it were as simple as Amelia said. He wished he’d had a regular fight with Sam, the kind where people talked afterward and found a resolution.

This was different. There’d be no more talking to Sam—or Ms. Kane, he corrected himself in his mind, and the surge of anger he’d almost forgotten in his concern for Amelia all came flooding back.

Didn’t Amelia get it? He didn’t want her to be like him. That was the whole point. He didn’t want her to fail.

He wanted everything to work out the way it was supposed to—no slipups, no surprises, nothing unplanned.

Only maybe, when he put it like that, the kid had a point.

He tried to focus on the rest of practice, but his head felt like it was a thousand pounds. His jaw hurt from clenching it so tight. He realized as he sat on the chairlift that he’d been peeling strips of old tape off his gloves.

In the end, he let them go early. Everyone was too tired to be good for much, anyway.