Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Mara was particular.
After making her first podium in the World Championships, she wore the exact same necklace she had worn that day anytime she put her skis on.
She fixed her hair the same for competitions—a tight French braid with a purple hair tie.
She always wore her lucky lip balm, and she had different lucky lip balm for every event.
She had two pairs of sunglasses—a pair for training and a pair for competitions—plus one single pair with clear lenses for evening or cloudy-weather skiing.
Her dad called her irrational. But she liked to think she was intense. A control freak. She could control her jewelry. Her hair tie. Her socks. Her skis.
There was so much she had so little control over. Other people. The weather. The media.
Interviews with Janette Collins.
Her heart rate when Kirby touched her shoulder that one time.
Jordan and her puppy dog eyes when she asked Mara to borrow a pair of sunglasses before a warm-up ski with the whole team.
They were doing a nice, easy fifteen kilometers for conditioning. Together. To foster a team atmosphere. But everyone had been giving her a wide berth, just like she liked it.
After that hellscape of an interview, Mara wasn’t in the mood to foster shit.
“I lost my sunglasses,” Jordan said. Mara glanced between Brandilyn and Jordan. They were young. Nineteen and twenty-one. Younger than she’d been at her first Olympics even. “Do you have an extra pair with you? I’ll give them back later, I swear.”
Mara was shocked to be asked. Skiers were picky about their gear. There wasn’t a lot of sharing. Hoarding was much more common, especially as the Olympics got closer.
“It’s okay if you don’t have any. Or if you don’t want to lend them to me,” Jordan said, her voice small. “I get it. I’m sorry for asking.”
Oh, God.
“Here. Hold on.”
Mara grabbed her competition pair out of her bag. They had a sunshine yellow rim. She put them on and handed her practice pair to Jordan. They were silver.
“Wow. Really?” Jordan said, staring down at the silver sunglasses like Mara had given her a diamond.
“Sure.”
And it was fine. They finished their warm-up. It was sunny, so it was fortunate Jordan had been able to use Mara’s sunglasses.
But then Jordan took off with Brandilyn without giving them back. Mara didn’t want to be petty and chase her down, so she took a deep breath and let it go. She would get them back that afternoon.
But when the afternoon came, and Mara showed up for her private training session with Coach Karlsson, Jordan, who was supposed to be there before her, wasn’t there.
It was okay. It would be okay. Mara trained. She was smooth as butter.
Five days to the Opening Ceremony.
Six to her first event.
Everything might have been spiraling out of control off the course, but she’d never felt better in her skis.
She hit the intervals she was supposed to. Her legs felt good. Her breath was on point. She visualized every push, every curve and hill. She was laser focused, and it was a great practice. The best she’d had since arriving in Oberhof.
It was the type of training session that helped her put the interview behind her. To put Kirby and Kirby’s games behind her.
But on the last turn, her sunglasses fell off.
They dropped right off her face, one earpiece disconnecting from the frame.
The sun glared off the snow, and she had to blink to adjust to the cold air and brightness hurting her eyes.
She kept going because she was a professional.
Shit happened all the time. She finished her session, recovered for a few minutes, debriefed with Coach Karlsson, and went back for the pieces of her glasses spread across the trail.
Jordan was stretching at the start of the course, chatting with Coach Wu, when Mara returned. She wasn’t wearing Mara’s sunglasses.
Mara marched up to them, the broken glasses in her fist. “Where are my sunglasses?”
Jordan jumped and everyone looked at Mara.
“Sorry for interrupting,” Mara said, politeness springing forward like a defense mechanism. “Mine broke. I need my other pair.”
Mara felt out of sorts and kind of pissed. It was probably a blessing in disguise that hers had broken during training rather than a race, but she couldn’t help but feel like they had broken because she was wearing them for training.
“They’re in my room. I forgot them on my bedside table. I’m so sorry.”
“Okay.” Mara’s mind raced. She needed to get another pair regardless.
She was sponsored by the brand but didn’t have any of the extras they had sent her over the years.
They were all at her condo in Anchorage.
So she would need to buy a pair or find the team’s cache of swag.
But then which pair would be her competition ones?
She wouldn’t get a chance to make one of them lucky.
“I can go get them for you,” Jordan said.
“No, you cannot. You have training right now. You can get them for Mara later. Right, Mara?” Coach Wu said, and Mara suddenly felt very silly.
“Of course.”
“Here’s my room key. It’s room 2B. They’re on my bedside table. Just go grab them, and I’ll find you to get my key back later.” Jordan practically tripped over herself to give Mara the key.
“Are you sharing with someone? Or are you staying with family?”
“Kirby. But she’s filming something.” Of course she was. “She won’t be back until this evening, so you won’t be disturbing her.”
“Thank you. I’ll get this back to you. I won’t forget.” Mara held up the key, and Jordan nodded with a bit of chagrin.
Mara showered quickly, threw on sweats and a tank top, and walked through an internal hallway in the apartment complex to Jordan’s unit.
Her brain couldn’t stop replaying her sunglasses flying off. Bad luck. Weird luck. Was it an omen?
She knew she wouldn’t settle down until she was holding the other pair of sunglasses.
She keyed into Jordan and Kirby’s suite.
The team had booked all the skiers in a complex that was within walking distance of the training facilities and trails.
Their apartments were nice, but Mara hated sharing.
She could have insisted on renting her own apartment, had insisted on that in the past, in fact, but it was working out okay this year.
She’d specifically asked to share with Lindsey, who she got along with better than most anyone in the world.
And Mara felt more integrated with the team than in the past. She’d even walked to breakfast with Lindsey a time or two.
And she’d shared her sunglasses. She was being a team player for once in her life.
Jordan’s apartment looked identical to hers, so it was easy to spot the bedrooms off the kitchen and dining area.
Jordan had said the sunglasses were in her room, so Mara headed through the living room to the hallway, only to hear a gasp. She froze.
It was a sex noise. Her body knew it before her brain had caught up. But no one was supposed to be there. Jordan was training. Kirby was filming.
Supposed to be filming, at least, because as Mara flattened herself to the nearest wall, it became quite evident that Kirby was not filming but was in fact in her bedroom having sex.
Mara didn’t know what to do. Her mind immediately reeled with images of Kirby twisting naked in the sheets with Apollo.
There were rumors about them, of course.
In fact, Mara knew of no fewer than five skiers Kirby had been rumored to screw around with.
Mara pretended she was above that type of gossip, but obviously she wasn’t.
Once, she’d seen paparazzi photos of Kirby kissing one of the women from that dating show she’d done years ago.
Not the most recent dating show. The first one Kirby had filmed just months after the Beijing Olympics.
Mara had kept that picture open in a tab on her phone for years.
It unstuck something in her chest to look at it sometimes.
To examine it. The way Kirby’s hand gripped the back of the woman’s head.
The way she had seemed so carefree. It gave Mara something to direct her anger at.
This picture of Kirby living her life while Mara’s felt like it had fallen apart.
But now Mara let her brain go there instead. To Kirby taking apart that woman in the picture who had looked too perfect to be real. But Kirby was real. She was hot, and chaotic, and imperfect, and Mara had spent way, way too long trying to ignore that and failing miserably.
A moan filtered into the living room, and Mara’s knees about hit the floor. She needed to leave. To put one foot in front of the other and get out of there. But she was rooted to the spot, her brain screaming at her to leave but her legs incapable.
A muffled “Oh, God” echoed through the thin walls, followed by a sharp, short cry.
Jesus, Mara had fucked up. She could not believe she had listened to Kirby have… She couldn’t even allow herself to think the word.
What had she come here to get?
It didn’t matter. She had to leave.
As soon as she could draw a breath. As soon as she could move without passing out.
Fight or flight or freeze.
Her body chose for her, and it was freeze all day long.
The bedroom door slammed open, and Mara thought for one, blissful moment that Kirby wouldn’t see her as she waltzed out in plaid pajama shorts and a bra holding a sex toy in one hand, clearly heading to the bathroom.
A sex toy.
As if from a distance, it clicked that Mara had not heard anyone else. Just Kirby. Maybe Kirby was alone.
Was that better? Or worse?
Kirby jumped when she saw Mara standing there, but she recovered as quick as a cat.
“What are you—”
“I came to get—”
They spoke at the same time. Then stopped at the same time.
Something like anger burned in Kirby’s gaze.
“I’m sorry,” Mara said. The apology felt sticky in her mouth.
“For what?” Kirby prowled toward her, and the room started spinning again.