Chapter 18
NOAH
One year ago…
I stare down at the newly groomed walls of the halfpipe, my right hand sore and bruised, tucking it safely in my pocket. My gloves create a safe cushion, but I can still picture and feel Sean’s nose where my fist connected, hearing a crunch as I broke it.
It does little to ease the tension in my shoulders; Olivia is most likely waiting at the bottom, regardless of whether I told her to leave last night or not.
Nothing will change what she’s done, what they've done.
Tinted goggles block my eyes while I scan the crowd, knowing Sean is also out there watching, probably waiting for me to fuck up.
How do you move on from the two people you loved who hurt you the most? It’s like a black and white film playing over and over, all color lost from my life. Empty and numb, cold air stings my cheeks, my chapped lips crack, and I taste blood on my tongue.
I’m a walking mess.
Coach is aware of what happened, waking up just as I knocked Sean to the ground. Except he took the blame for my outburst. How fucking noble of him.
Doesn’t change all the damage that ensued.
Seconds tick by, and my countdown begins. Rolling my shoulders, I inhale a shaky breath and begin my run when a snap echoes out.
I’m gaining speed at the right time, easing myself into my first trick, sticking a McTwist, then Nose Grab, hearing shouts of excitement over the roaring in my ears. Wind whips past, stinging my cheeks, my stomach in knots, kickstarting my anxiety.
Olivia’s face flashes in my mind, replaying all of our moments, our secrets, right down to the quiet times of comfort and stability. She is—was my anchor, my reason for getting my shit together. The engagement ring hides inside my underwear drawer at home. Christmas would’ve been our time.
Now it’s lost to lies and betrayal, and it fucking hurts.
My knuckle throbs when I complete a Trail Grab, landing not quite right, but it doesn’t derail me from sliding further down, where I amp up for my last set of complex moves.
The landing might cost me a point or two, but I’m still projected to win gold.
People are chanting my name, the crowd in sheer pandemonium. I’m gearing up for my last sequence of tricks, knowing I’m pulling a new one out of my pocket just before the finish line.
My body shakes, but I persevere, catching air, my nerves shot as I start my first spin, higher than intended.
Every ounce of my being suddenly halts, my limbs locking in place. My brainwaves short-circuit as my body flails, losing all sense of control. All I can do is close my eyes.
Olivia’s face flashes behind my eyes, then screams pierce my ears as everything goes black.
Present day
A soft beep continuously fills my headspace, pounding behind my eyes, resulting in me groaning. Nothing hurts, but being awake is something else entirely. It means I have to face what happened.
“There’s the poor bastard.” Mark’s voice makes me nauseous.
“Why is he acting like that? Didn’t the doctor say he’s okay?” Cody’s concern takes pity on me.
I crack my eyes open, catching sight of all three of the guys staring at me. “It’s like I’m in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”
Taylor shakes his head, sitting comfortably at the end of the bed. “You got so lucky.”
“Really? Cause my head is pounding,” I complain, wiggling my toes. Nothing feels out of place, nothing severely broken. Shit, he’s right.
Coach Jones comes waltzing in, face red, sweating, dripping down his temples. “Trying to get a nurse in this god-forsaken place is ridiculous.”
“Is that why you’re sweating like a pig?” I point out. For someone who’s not that much older than us, it’s like he’s never worked out in his life.
His eyes find me sitting up, and he sighs with relief. “I’m in layers, you jackass.” Coach comes closer, getting a good look at me. “Since you don’t have any injuries, I was trying to track the nurse down so we can get the discharge papers going.”
My stomach drops, panic rising in the back of my throat. I can’t go back. He can’t force me to participate after that. He knows what transpired out there. We all fucking do.
The guys share looks with one another, proving my point—it’s over.
“I’m done.”
Tommy Jones is a man of many things: a father, a coach, someone’s uncle or brother, but he’s never been someone who loses their cool. I guess today is that day. “You have got to be fucking kidding me, Hart.”
“Not this time. You know what’s happening again, face it. It’s over, and I’m done.” God, my fucking head is killing me. I reach for the call button, buzzing the shit out of it to hopefully get some pain meds. There’s a good chance I have a slight concussion.
“You’re just gonna give up?” Now he’s pissing me off. Coach is right by my side now, and the guys are watching, anticipating an intense verbal argument. Unfortunately, I don’t have it in me.
“I. Am. Done.” I press the buzzer harder, hoping she comes quickly to buffer this wack conversation. My head throbs, making it harder to focus. It’s like someone ran over my skull with spiked tires.
He runs his hands down his sweaty face, cursing under his breath. “Please don’t tell me it’s what I think it is…”
I don’t say anything, and he hangs his head, backing into the seat behind him. “This changes…everything.”
He’s right.
It changes my life.