Chapter 18 #2
“Look at you go, golden boy!" Lucky cheered, executing a crisp little jump that made me gape in astonishment. She was good, moving with a fluid grace that made snowboarding appear as natural as walking.
Bode noticed my expression. "She’s been holding out on us," he said, watching as Lucky zipped up to us, carving elegant turns through the powder.
"I’m exhausted," I unstrapped and flopped backward into the snow. "I need a break."
Lucky rode over to us, spraying snow as she stopped. "I want to hike up higher," she said, eyes gleaming with excitement as she looked up the slope. "Get a longer run in. You guys coming?"
"I need five minutes," I was still catching my breath. "You go ahead."
"Bode?" she turned to him with hopeful eyes.
He shook his head. "I’ll wait with Wade."
She glanced between us for a moment, nodded. "Okay. I won’t be long." She unstrapped both feet and tucked her board under her arm, trudging slowly up the hill.
Bode and I watched her in companionable silence. She moved with purpose, her small frame powering through the snow with surprising strength.
"She’s better than I expected," Bode said, his tone thoughtful. "Good technique. Natural flow."
"She grew up in Jackson Hole." I watched as Lucky reached her chosen starting point and strapped her free foot back in. "Until she was about twelve. Her family moved to Nebraska after that for her mom’s job."
Bode’s eyebrows rose. "Jackson Hole? That explains it. Serious mountain town, serious riders."
"She doesn’t talk about it much." I watched as Lucky positioned herself at the top of the slope. "I think the move was pretty traumatic for her. One day she was a mountain kid, the next she was in the flattest part of Nebraska. She’s wanted to get back to the mountains ever since."
"And now she’s here," Bode noted, his eyes tracking Lucky as she started her descent.
"And now she’s here," I echoed, smiling as I watched her carve through the fresh powder with obvious joy.
"No wonder she's so excited about everything. I wish I could still harness that."
Lucky was magnificent, arms relaxed at her sides, knees bent in proper form, body shifting with subtle movements that translated to graceful arcs in the snow. She was flying, in her element, letting out occasional whoops of pure delight that carried clearly in the cold air.
"She loves it," Bode said softly, almost to himself.
I glanced at him, struck by the expression on his face: a complicated mix of longing, admiration, and an unnameable intensity. I took a chance. “Do you like powder? Or only halfpipe?”
He stiffened, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t shut down.
After a long moment, he exhaled, his breath forming a cloud in the cold air.
"My father is a big mountain powder rider," he said, the words coming, as if each one cost him dearly.
"Backcountry, steep lines, untouched snow.
The kind of riding most people never see except in films."
"That sounds incredible," I said honestly, having no real idea what it entailed but understanding it was significant that he was sharing this. "Do you do that too?"
Bode’s eyes were fixed on the distant peaks, seeing what I could not see. "I don’t know. I never looked much past the halfpipe, since that was my mom’s passion. I might have some of that in me.”
"It sounds cool as hell."
A small huff of laughter escaped him, surprising us both. "It is cool as hell," he said. "It’s... it’s a different world up there. You and the mountain. No judges, no scores, no cameras. Finding your line and trusting yourself to ride it. But… I don’t know. People become obsessed with it.”
“Is your dad obsessed with it?”
Before he could respond, Lucky’s joyful shout drew our attention. She was flying down the final stretch of slope, her face was transformed with pure, unfiltered happiness, the same expression I’d seen last night when she’d come apart for us, but somehow even more profound.
"WHOOOOO!" she yelled as she came to a stop near us, sending up a spray of powder. "God, I’ve missed this! That was incredible!"
I laughed at her enthusiasm, climbing to my feet and kissing her. "You looked amazing out there!"
"Smooth," Bode said, and the simple compliment from him made Lucky beam even brighter.
"Again?" she asked, already turning to head back up the slope. "Come with me this time?"
I glanced at Bode, who was watching her with naked affection now, his careful mask slipping enough to reveal the man beneath. And there, at the corner of his mouth, was a small but definite smile, not the practiced one he used when he needed to be polite, but real and unguarded.
"I think I need another break," I gave Bode a significant glance. "But you two go ahead."
Lucky’s eyes widened, darting between Bode and me. "Bode? Would you...?"
He hesitated, that internal battle visible again in the tension of his shoulders, the slight furrow between his brows.
For a moment, I thought he would refuse, retreat back behind his walls, back to the safety of denial.
But he studied Lucky, at her hopeful expression, at the joy still radiating from her, and his expression shifted.
"One run," he said, the words coming out gruff but clear. "I’ll need to borrow your board."
Lucky’s smile was like the sun breaking through clouds: brilliant, warming, impossible to turn away from. "One run." She was already unstrapping from her board. “Just one."
And as Bode stepped forward to take the board from her, his movements both reluctant and somehow eager, I caught the smallest glimpse of who he might have been before burnout and depression shut him down.