Epilogue
Four Months Later
Warm, yellow sunshine filtered through the open blinds and painted stripes over Kirby’s sleeping form. Mara traced the streaks of light on Kirby’s bare back with her fingers.
Kirby had been exhausted since getting to Alaska two nights before.
It was a busy summer off-season for her.
She’d been in L.A. for a fast and furious three weeks where she’d filmed a game show, a trivia competition for charity, a few podcasts, two commercials, and interviews and commentary for a mini-docuseries about celebrity villains.
Mara should let her get some rest, but she wasn’t feeling particularly generous that morning.
“We need to do a practice run,” she whispered in Kirby’s ear.
“No.”
“Mount Marathon waits for no one.”
“Go away.” Kirby rolled onto her stomach.
Mara smiled and looked out the window of her camper. The tide was going out in Resurrection Bay, and early risers were out walking their dogs or fishing along the rocky beach. The sun was high. She’d missed the sunrise at 4:40 am, but just barely.
She’d already eaten breakfast, caught up on the news, and gone for a long bike ride through Seward. She was tired of waiting.
“Let’s hike to Tonsina Point instead. It’s an easy hike,” Mara said, hoping a laidback trek would be more enticing than running a difficult five-k with a 3,000-foot elevation gain. They could do their practice run that evening instead.
Four days until the race.
They had plenty of time to figure out their mountain routes.
Kirby turned onto her back, and Mara pounced on her naked body, pinning her down.
“What time is it?” Kirby said, her voice scratchy.
“Six thirty.”
“Oh, fuck you, Mara. Leave me alone.”
Mara laughed. “No.” She kissed Kirby’s neck, her shoulders.
“It’s too early for this,” Kirby said, threading her fingers in Mara’s hair and pushing her head lower, completely contradicting her words. “You’re supposed to relax during retirement.”
Kirby groaned as Mara kissed between her legs.
“I’m relaxed,” Mara said.
Kirby arched off the bed as Mara pressed a few fingers inside her. “Slow down.”
Mara knew what made Kirby tick. She knew how to finish her faster than it took Kirby to race a sprint. And she wasn’t slowing down.
After less than three minutes, Mara sat up and smiled. Kirby was still shaking, her body pulsing around Mara’s fingers.
“Let’s go do something,” Mara said. “I don’t want to hang out in the camper all day.”
Mara loved her camper. She’d sold her Anchorage condo and bought the trailer as soon as the snow had started to melt. It was small and cozy, full of warm colors and plush cushions and blankets. Perfect for her when she was alone. Even better when Kirby was taking up half the bed.
She didn’t know what she would do once winter hit. Probably pay to store it somewhere and follow Kirby to Europe for the World Cup. She was already planning to drive it the whole way to Park City and Vermont as Kirby moved through different summer training camps.
But the Alaska morning was too beautiful to waste another moment inside.
Kirby bodied Mara onto her back like a wrestling takedown.
Okay, maybe Mara could withstand a few more moments inside after all.
“It’s too early for this,” Kirby repeated, but she followed the words with a kiss. “Damn it, Mara, why are you already dressed to work out?”
Kirby ripped Mara’s top off and struggled to remove the bike shorts.
“Because I’ve already worked out this morning.”
Kirby fought to get Mara naked. She didn’t help much because Kirby’s frustration was funny.
“Hey, did you really say that I only call you KB when I’m being nasty?
Like did you actually say that in an interview?
” Mara said as Kirby tugged the bike shorts off Mara’s butt.
She’d seen the article that morning—a buzzy, gossipy piece in a fashion magazine.
The pictures of Kirby had been incredible.
“Yes. You say KB when you’re being nasty, Kirby when you’re being sweet, and Bonham when you’re pissed at me.”
“You’re unbelievable. That is too personal. And not true.” Except, it kind of was true.
Kirby finally got Mara’s shorts off. She flung them to the other side of the camper.
There was a nice, overhead shelf above their bed that Kirby insisted needed to hold their toys. She sat up, grabbed a strap-on, and then she was inside Mara, fucking her hard and fast, in a few seamless movements. They’d had lots of practice at this point.
Mara laughed, joy lifting her to the rafters.
“You’d think,” Kirby said between kisses, “that winning a couple Olympic gold medals would satisfy you.”
“Is two ‘a couple’?”
“Don’t critique my grammar right now, Mara May.” Kirby gripped a fistful of Mara’s hair.
Mara smiled and wrapped her legs around Kirby’s waist.
“But you’re never satisfied, are you?” Kirby slowed down, switching to long, powerful strokes.
She knew what it took to finish Mara fast too.
“My greedy little princess. Winning the fifty-k wasn’t enough, huh?
Or another Crystal Globe. Now you need to bike and hike and run and needle me about pointless interviews.
Now you need to win a ridiculous and dangerous race where there will be bears, and we could fall off a cliff. ”
“We’ll be fine.” There would be so many people on the mountain during the race a bear sighting would be highly unusual. Mara struggled to get the words out as pleasure started to radiate up her spine and down her legs. “I don’t care about winning.”
“Bullshit.”
“Just want to beat you. Again.”
Her body detonated, and she moaned through her orgasm. Kirby kissed her softly, gently, peppering her face and neck and shoulders until Mara could breathe again.
“Did the thought of beating me in a race just make you come?” Kirby asked after a few seconds.
Mara laughed again. Laughter came so easily now. She’d never been this happy.
Kirby had learned so much about Mara in the four months since the Olympics had ended.
She’d learned that Mara was as competitive about canasta as she was about racing.
She’d learned that Mara kept all her medals and trophies in a set of tubs from Costco, which Mara had moved from her own garage to her mom’s after she’d sold her condo.
Kirby had met Mara’s dad and learned exactly how Mara had ended up so closed off, but she’d also met Mara’s mom, who was brilliant and kind and pretty chill about having raised the best cross-country skier in the world.
She’d learned that Mara was terrible at giving interviews about their now public relationship, consistently answering questions about it with the equivalent of a “none of your fucking business.” Kirby did the interviews now, which suited them both just fine.
She’d learned Mara was generous, intentional, loving, and honestly such a wonderful girlfriend. If Mara would agree to sleep in until eight occasionally, Kirby would have said she was the best girlfriend ever.
And she’d learned that Mara loved to camp, hike, run, and mountain bike, and took all those endeavors very seriously.
“We only have the switchbacks left,” Mara said. “Then we’ll be at Tonsina Point.”
Kirby was dragging on the hike, and Mara’s impatience was slipping through.
But Kirby felt like she’d hardly slept in three weeks, she’d been so busy.
Plus, she had new anti-anxiety meds on board, and they’d been making her feel groggier than usual.
It wasn’t a perfect fix, but she was working hard with her doctors to get the right formula of therapy and medicine figured out.
“If you don’t want me to be slow, don’t wake me up with an orgasm before the sun’s even up,” Kirby grumbled.
“The sun comes up in the middle of the night here, Bonham. I woke you up mid-morning. Don’t be hyperbolic.”
Six thirty was not mid-morning.
Kirby grabbed Mara’s hand just to touch her. To be closer. They started to make the steep descent down a long series of winding boardwalks.
Large ferns, mossy rocks, and huge trees bordered the trail, like walking through the set of Jurassic Park. They finally reached the bottom of the hill and crossed a bridge.
Kirby stopped in her tracks, completely speechless.
In front of them was the most beautiful panoramic ocean view.
“See? Wasn’t this worth it?” Mara said. “We could even run back to the trailhead to warm up for—”
“Mara, shhh.” Kirby dragged her forward by the hand, over the wide expanse of pebbled beach, to get them closer to the sparkling water’s edge.
Tall green grass flanked the beach before the landscape climbed back into mountains blanketed by rich, dark forest.
Once Kirby had pulled Mara a couple hundred feet closer to the water, she stopped at a small knoll that was adorned with a huge sun-bleached log. She plopped down in front of the log and leaned back against it. Mara sat beside her.
The log blocked their view of the other hikers who were spending their morning at Tonsina Point as well. It felt like they were the only two people in the world. Just them, the water, and the mountains.
And, God, the mountains. Across the bay, white-tipped peaks seemed to rise out of the ocean like some mythical god had lifted them straight from the sea.
Seeing the snowy mountaintops, glaciers, and ice fields made Kirby itch for her skis, even though it was only July.
She’d never missed skiing in the summer as much as she did right then.
Training and roller skiing wasn’t cutting it. She was ready to compete.
She glanced over at Mara. Mara was looking at her, not the tide or the seabirds flying around or the mountains.
Mara’s cheeks were rosy from the warmth of the sun and the exertion of the hike. Her hair was in two long French braids, but it was frizzy around her face. She was wearing hiking boots, tall socks, shorts, and a lime green sports bra. She’d pushed her silver sunglasses up onto the top of her head.
She was beautiful. Just as inspiring as the view. Just as sacred to Kirby.
“I love you, Kirby,” Mara said.
They’d never said those words to each other, but Mara spoke them as if she said it all the time and it was no big deal.
“Really?”
Mara smiled and rolled her eyes. “No, I’m lying.”
She looked back at the water like that was that. Like she didn’t give a shit what Kirby might say back. Like she was secure in the knowledge that speaking those words into existence was enough.
“Are you saying that because you feel bad about the torture you’re going to put me through running Mount Marathon?” Kirby said.
“You’re a world-class athlete. An Olympian who recently won a medal in every event you competed in. Running up a little hill will be no big deal.”
Mount Marathon, a mountain on the outskirts of Seward, was not a little fucking hill.
The race was considered the toughest five-k on the planet.
In a few days’ time, they would try to conquer it.
It was over three miles total, almost 3,000 feet of elevation gain in less than one mile, and averaged a thirty-four-degree incline with a sixty-degree incline at its steepest. It wasn’t so much a run as a vertical climb.
And then they had to run down. Which wasn’t so much a run as a fall.
Kirby’s goal was to be conservative and not break a leg.
Mara’s goal was to follow the tradition of the many cross-country skiers who had won.
“Mara May,” Kirby said, her voice shaky.
“Hmm?”
Kirby turned Mara’s face back toward her. Mara’s lips were tipped up into a knowing smile.
“I love you too.”
One of Mara’s eyebrows went up for half a second, and her smile transformed from knowing to joyous. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
Mara nodded and rested her forehead against Kirby’s just like after their team sprint gold medal.
“I’m going to smoke you on Saturday,” Mara murmured.
“You’ll be so far ahead of me, I won’t even see the smoke, princess.”
Mara pulled back and stared at Kirby for a long, intense moment, and Kirby realized she’d unintentionally repeated a bastardization of that very first potshot Mara had ever taken at her. Way back during the Beijing Olympics. Over four years ago.
I don’t see Kirby Bonham as a rival. I’m usually so far ahead of her, I don’t see her at all.
The beginning. The best thing that had ever happened to Kirby. Without that trash talk, they would never have fought and fallen in love.
“I knew then,” Kirby said. “Thinking back on it.”
A salty breeze ruffled their hair, and Mara cupped Kirby’s cheek, her eyes sparkling with emotion.
“Knew what?” Mara asked.
“That we were meant to live this life together in one way or another. As competitors. Rivals. Lovers. We belonged side-by-side.”
Tears welled and slipped down Mara’s cheeks. With no warning, she kissed Kirby soundly.
Then Mara jumped to her feet, kicked off her hiking boots, pulled off her socks, and looked down at Kirby sitting in the sand.
She grinned and roughly wiped her tears away. “Race ya.”
“Where to?”
Mara shrugged. “Wherever you want to go.” Then she took off, running toward the water lapping gently at the shore.
And Kirby followed.
Thank you for reading Cross-Country Love. For more queer Olympic sports adventures, check out the other titles in the Love on the Podium series.