Chapter 4
brOOKS
D espite having treated half the skiers and snowboarders who train there, working down the street, and growing up just across town, I’ve never actually seen Blue Pike.
Even after bypassing the turnoff to work, calling Courtney to bump my morning appointments, and driving into the parking lot at the base of the mountain, I’m still trying to convince myself to turn the car around.
I shouldn’t be here. After months of struggling to keep Delta at arm’s length, not even twenty-four hours of knowing she’s upset has sent me right over yet another line I shouldn’t.
Being closed off and professional is second nature to me. All those barriers I’ve been putting up between us come with a cost, and it was a cold, terrible shock to realize that I’m not the only one paying for it.
She believes I treat all my patients like I treat her, that she’s nobody special to me, and the fucking wounded look on her face…
I can’t stomach it. I don’t care if I’m throwing myself on the damn pyre.
I’m not letting Delta walk around th inking any less of herself because of me, letting her hurt because of me.
Understanding the emotions of people in my life has never been easy for me.
Facial expressions, gestures, and sarcasm often go right over my head.
Even now, as an objectively successful adult, I spend most of my days wishing my interactions with friends, family, and patients came with subtitles.
I hadn’t needed help to realize Delta was upset, although I couldn’t understand why until it was too late
I have no business being here, bothering her in the middle of her workday, but I can’t leave this.
I’ve just gotten out of my car and wondering if I should get right back into it when a familiar voice calls my name and I’m reminded of yet another excellent reason for staying far away from Blue Pike.
River Jacobs. He’s just leaving the building I parked beside, dressed in the same black jacket as Delta wears, a snowboard under one arm and a clipboard under the other.
My tolerance for River has waned with each passing year we’ve worked together, and I’m almost positive he feels the same way about me.
There was a time when I put a lot of effort into propping up his ego, but he uses his daughter for that. He doesn’t need any extra help from me.
“Hi, River.” I tighten my cheeks in something resembling a polite smile as I walk around my car toward him. “I thought I might find you here.”
A lie, and a not a clever one. River might be an egomaniac, but he isn’t stupid, and I need to watch myself. I haven’t seen him in months, and I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but he looks more worn down than I remember him being the last time he came to one of Delta’s appointments .
“How can I help you, Doctor?” he asks, shuffling his clipboard so he can grip my hand.
“The magazine reached out to me again this morning. They wanted an answer by the end of the day, but I haven’t been able to get ahold of Delta. Do you know where I can find her?”
River gestures to the chairlift, his expression unreadable, and despite myself, I’m a little rattled by his cool nonchalance.
It’s like being at an aquarium and staring into the eyes of a shark on the other side of the glass.
“I’ve been having the kids leave their phones in the locker room to minimize distractions.
I’ll take you up. She’s on one of the slopestyle courses. ”
I feel distinctly out of place in my wool coat and slacks as I follow River’s lead.
Among his people, he’s like another person, good-natured and grinning.
He waves to a few of the skiers and stops to introduce me to some of his assistant coaches.
I’m not an expert, but the entire facility seems to be state-of-the-art.
Not surprising, given Blue Pike churns out more champions than anywhere else in the country.
As we join the short line to the lift, I watch as a male snowboarder wearing the same black jacket as River executes what looks like a triple spin off a ramp of snow a little way up the mountain. He lands it so smoothly anyone would think it’s effortless.
“My second son, Lake,” River explains, following my gaze.
I knew Delta has two older brothers, though I’ve never met either of them.
I’ve also never seen anyone do anything even close to that impressive in real life.
It certainly looked fantastic, but despite having seen what must be hundreds of hours of Delta’s snowboarding footage by now, I still couldn’t tell what constitutes a “good run” apart from not falling on your ass.
River nods toward a place a little way up the platform where we’re supposed to stand.
I follow his lead and my stomach swoops when the chair hooks my legs out from under me, lifting us away from the ground.
River pulls down a metal bar, locking us in, and we both watch as Lake takes the last jump on the course with just as much apparent ease.
“Is he another Olympic hopeful?”
I can’t imagine being anything other than awed by my children if they grew up to be internationally ranked athletes, but River only sighs. “Lake is excellent, but his nerves have always been an issue. He never performs as well in competition as he does in practice.”
“And Delta?” I hear myself ask. I hardly value this man’s opinion, but I’m uncomfortable with how limited my knowledge of Delta’s world is, especially given our last conversation.
I grew up just across town from here, in the heart of ski and snowboard country, but while my classmates were skipping class to go to the mountain, I was getting elected president of the chemistry club.
I was awkward, introverted, and obsessed with science, and I’ve fallen for the coolest woman on the face of the planet.
River chuckles, resting his arm over the back of the chair, his eyes on a group of snowboarders passing below us on the trail.
“DJ performs best when there’s something at stake.
I get a lot of shit for how hard I push my team, but these kids need it .
They don’t get to this level without it.
I take that natural determination and harness it.
They wouldn’t keep coming back if they didn’t thrive under that kind of pressure. ”
I look away, my stomach churning. Is that what River tells himself? That Delta is thriving under the pressure ? She’s looked more worn down and stressed every time I’ve seen her this year, and I know she isn’t giving me the full picture of how much pain she’s in.
He offers nothing else, and I stare blankly out at the snow-covered trees, turning his words over in my mind. I want to rage at him, but I can’t. She’s never said anything to me. All I have are my suspicions, and gut feelings aren’t empirical data.
The guys running the lift see that I’m not wearing snowboard or skis, so they stop the chairs to let me off. The top of the mountain is bitter cold despite the bright sunlight, and River points me toward the slopestyle course before heading off in the opposite direction.
I’m grateful for the lack of supervision.
I haven’t been in the same room as Delta and River since I realized my attraction to her, and I’d like to keep it that way until I get myself under control.
I still haven’t quite given up hope that this is all just a deeply unfortunate phase, an early mid-life crisis, and one day I’ll wake up and this obsession will have vanished as instantaneously as it appeared.
It would be an ideal turn of events, but I’m not hopeful, considering where I am right now. I’ve never done anything this drastic for the sake of another person’s feelings.
Especially when I emerge on the base of a massive hill, arranged with intimidating looking rails and ramps.
My eyes catch on the top as a woman moves into view.
She’s dressed in the same black coat and a pair of tie-dye snow-pants, her face partially obscured by bright pink goggles, and she’s far too far away.
She could be anyone, but the familiar prickle of awareness I feel at the back of my neck tells me exactly who she is.
I watch as she talks to another woman in a coach’s jacket, nodding seriously and, without warning, drops over the edge.
My stomach plummets with her, and I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from yelling out.
I’ve seen videos of this, but they couldn’t prepare me for the intensity of seeing it in person.
A tiny cell phone video can’t convey how fast she’s going, or how gracefully her body seems to bend and sway with the board, gliding over snow that’s so packed down it could be ice.
Every time she breaks free from the ground, I hold my breath, fear twisting inside me, but she never falters.
She’s so goddamn good. Perfect, even.
A shower of snow chunks flies through the air when she skids to a stop at the bottom of the hill. We’re only a dozen yards apart, and I linger by the tree line as she snaps her goggles up, huffing in frustration.
“Damn it,” Delta mutters to herself, panting. She must see movement because she does a double take, her eyes widening comically in surprise at the sight of me. “Doctor Harrison. What—what are you doing here?”
My stomach knots in apprehension as I step forward.
How the hell did I get all the way up here without a plan of what I wanted to say to her?
I’d been so focused on whether I should be here at all, I never stopped to consider how I’d go about this.
“Do you have a minute?” I ask, glancing up toward where her coach was standing a few moments ago, but the top of the course is empty.