Chapter 27
HANNAH
I left Noah to sulk alone in the snow, not caring that I ended practice early. There’s someone more important I need to see and kindly yell at.
Making my way inside the main building, I search for Coach Jones, texting Maya to ask if she’s seen her dad, when my body collides with a hard form. Hands steady me, and I look into the eyes of the person I’m looking for.
“Hey, Hannah, how’s Noah out there?” he asks kindly, taking a step back to give me space.
Which is a good call, cause I might explode. “You knew, and you thought I could help him with that?” My voice rises a few octaves higher than intended, and Coach looks startled.
“Hannah… It’s not as bad as it seems,” he tries to reason with me, but I’m already past the point of no return. I can’t believe he’s trying to convince me it's not that bad.
“Coach, he has—”
“Is everything all right?” asks Anthony.
“Can we speak more privately? The three of us?” suggests Coach Jones, looking around, paranoid.
Most of the guests are asleep, and only the staff are lingering.
Anthony signals us to follow through a door that reads “Manager's Office.” I take my seat across from Anthony, while Coach Jones stands by the case of snowboarding trophies, his face scrunched with worry.
“What’s going on??” Anthony has no issue being stern with me, since he thinks of me as his own kid to begin with, but I can tell just by his eyes and the way they soften that he’s having a hard time following through.
I point at Coach Jones, throwing my manners right out the window. “Ask him, because apparently, his best snowboarder has the twisties and failed to mention it.”
Anthony almost chokes on air. “Is she serious?”
Coach Jones’s eyes dart around the room, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, he snapped out of it fairly quickly the first time.”
“THE FIRST TIME?!” I shout, almost knocking my chair back to stand.
Anthony has to match my stance, keeping space between Coach and my wrath. It’s not like I’m going to hit him, but I can verbally knock him down a few pegs.
“And how did he overcome this before?” Anthony questions, keeping me in his peripheral so I don’t swing.
“Uhh…well, I don’t know, exactly. The kid has a rough time handling failure, then he gets it in his head…”
“Now he’s mentally stuck, thinking he’s getting lost in the air,” I interrupt, trying to keep my cool.
Both of them exchange a look, then Anthony says to Coach, “So you think Hannah can bring him back to reality?”
“Or enough where he snaps back on his own. That’s if Hannah is still willing to help?”
Am I still willing to help? I’ve never met anyone personally with the twisties, but I hear the experience can cause a boatload of issues, resulting in retiring early from the sport.
The real question is, can I do it? Can I get self-centered Noah Hart to overcome his mental block and perform?
The weight of this whole ordeal rests heavily on my shoulders.
Both men look at me for my final answer, while I battle it internally.
If I say no, I’m not only letting Anthony and Jill down, but I’m also letting Maya down, and that’s something I refuse to ever do in this lifetime.
Goddamn it.
I find Noah sitting alone in the dining hall, eating whatever’s left over from lunch. His hair is a dark, curly mess, shoulders hunched over while he eats pizza, casually scrolling through his phone as I take a seat across from him.
His eyes flash, a surprised smirk appearing on his lips. “Red.”
“Noah.”
His eyes shine, like he enjoys hearing me say his name.
“And here I thought you’d given up on me?” he deadpans, putting his phone aside.
“Quite the opposite.” Whatever mental issues he has, we don’t have enough time to fool around.
“Oh? And what changed?”
Staring at Noah is like staring at the moon, bright in the darkest of night, inviting when you want something calm to whisk you away. Dangerous because of the pull he has without realizing you’re leaning in.
I correct my position and fidget with my hands under the table.
“It’s clear we’re not fans of one another.
And I would rather be picking up horse shit than spend most of my mornings with you, but I love this place.
It’s everything to me, to others, and to see it fall under because I can’t put our differences aside makes me no better. ”
He rests his elbows on the table, hands clasping underneath his chin.
His mouth pouts forward, and I notice day-old stubble just above his upper lip.
“Judging by your calm approach, I’m assuming Coach told you.
” Brown eyes search my face, making me squirm in my seat.
I can’t lie, Noah’s attention is quite intimidating.
“Yes.”
“I don’t want your sympathy.” His jaw flexes, eyes cold and distant.
“Even if I want to give it, you still don’t deserve it.” Especially from me. “But he told me some details of what happened.”
“Then you know that your attempts are feeble. Coach is trying to force someone else on me, someone who doesn’t know my past, hoping it’ll knock the mental block down, but refuses to see that maybe I can’t come back from this. Not this time.”
My heart pounds, the sound pulsating in my eardrums. If I can’t get Noah over his mental roadblock, then Snowy Peak will be buried along with his career. “Lucky for you, I won't give up that easily.”
He rolls his eyes. “Great. Now I have a stalker.”
“Right, not like a crowd follows you every day, what's one more?”
“Sometimes I want my privacy.” With a somber expression, Noah looks off in the distance, avoiding eye contact. I might slightly underestimate him when it comes to enjoying all the attention, but it’s no excuse for his behavior.
“Why did you try those moves, knowing you have the twisties?” I ask instead. “Do you know how dangerous that was? And you let me push you?” I’m basically digging his grave for him.
His mouth slants, then he leans back in his seat, sighing. “Because I have a bad habit of feeding into the pain. At least it helps me to feel something.”
Noah looks lost, and I wonder if it’s been like that for a while.
But I can’t feed into his melancholy. I stand. “If you want to continue to suffer and never snowboard again, then leave; otherwise, meet me exactly at seven a.m. on the halfpipe.”
I’m about to leave when Noah’s words flutter across the room. “And if I don’t show?”
Hand on the door, I want nothing more than to rewind and never set my sights on Noah Hart, but letting Maya down eats me alive inside. “Then I’ll know what kind of man you are.”