Chapter 5
DELTA
“ G et up.”
That was just before lunch.
Now, the pipe is lit by deep red light from the sun setting behind the trees as I lay on my back, panting, aching, and done .
So, so, done.
I took the last of my leftover pain pills yesterday afternoon, swearing to myself that I’d make do on ibuprofen and lots of ice baths from now on.
Judging by my current inability to execute tricks I could once do in my sleep, that was just as much of a load of crap as telling myself I’d only need them once.
“DJ.” Dad’s footsteps crunch over the snow toward me, but I still don’t open my eyes.
Pain is radiating out from my hip, cramping the muscles in my leg, back, and stomach.
I’m tired, hungry and I hurt so bad that I can’t think about anything except taking this fucking board off my feet and throwing it in the woods.
I never want to touch it or set foot on this stupid, pretentious mountain ever again.
Dad exhales heavily as he sits beside me on the ground, his winter gear rustling. “You want to tell me why you went from fine yesterday to a mess today, kid?”
Nope. I feel shitty enough about my choices without seeing the judgment and disapproval in Dad’s eyes, too.
Then there’s the fact that I’m still in pain two weeks after an injection.
I should be fine, or almost fine, and the fact that I’m not means that all the warnings about this not being a permanent solution are finally coming to fruition.
They aren’t working anymore . Dad might not like Doctor Harrison’s lack of ass-kissing, but he doesn’t dispute that he’s the absolute best. If he can’t fix me, no one can, and the fate of my career now hangs on just how much pain I can take.
“Dad, I don’t want to do this anymore.” The number of times I’ve thought about saying those words are too many to count. Somehow, it never occurred to me that they would make my heart hurt just as badly as my body does. If I’m not good at this, I’m good at nothing at all.
When I finally find the courage to open my eyes, I see Dad staring toward the opening at the end of the pipe. “Do you know when I realized you were going to be exceptional, DJ? ”
Wincing, I push myself up to sit beside him, my chest hollow. “No.” Dad and I don’t talk about stuff like that.
“You were about four. We were in New England, visiting your grandparents for the weekend. I took you and your brothers snowboarding on the back hill,” he chuckles and shakes his head.
“It was cold as hell out. The boys were complaining the whole time, but you never asked to go in. Not once. My point is that winners are made, not born. You become the best when you show up every day and work for it, you sacrifice for it. You’ve never had trouble doing that, kid. ”
He doesn’t know how wrong he is, how much trouble I’ve swallowed down and bottled up.
“My hip is fucked, Dad. It hasn’t been right since I started winter training, and I thought the injection would help, but it didn’t.
I want to keep going, I swear. It’s just…
” My eyes burn. “I feel like I’m falling apart. ”
Dad scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m going to take a shot in the dark here, and you don’t have to tell me if I’m right, but I think you found something to help you get through it. And I’m guessing that something wasn’t legal.”
I don’t respond, I can’t , but Dad seems to understand anyway because he sighs.
“Call the doctor, tell him to give you another injection. He probably got the wrong spot, that happens, and in the meantime—” I sense the weight of his eyes on me, but don’t turn to meet them.
“There’s plenty of shit in my bathroom cabinet.
Take what you need. It’ll get you through until we figure this out. ”
I should be relieved, happy even, but Dad’s offer makes my stomach twist. “You don’t… you don’t care? ”
He snorts. “You can’t let yourself get hooked on that shit, so take it easy, but it’s fine for now. I sure as hell did it from time to time.”
Suddenly, the blood rushing in my ears is so much louder than the wind on the mountain or Dad’s voice.
He’s told us the stories so many times, the ones about his beating the odds and working through pain to win it all.
I should be relieved that he’s not a superhero, to know he struggled just like I do now, but I just feel betrayed and alone.
I stare straight ahead at the towering wall of snow, every part of me hurting. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Do I want my kid using pills to get through training? Of course not.” I don’t reply and we sit side by side in silence for a long moment before he adds, “I didn’t want to tell you until you were past this rough spot, but I got a call yesterday.
Everwater is interested. They’re sending their reps up on Monday to meet you. ”
I close my eyes, sucking in a shaky breath.
He doesn’t need to remind me that Everwater, a fancy energy drink company, is the dream sponsor for pretty much any athlete.
Their contracts are worth millions of dollars and come with amazing perks, like traveling to industry events all over the world and seeing your face on billboards.
I should care, this is an enormous deal, and I don’t understand why I can’t muster up even a perfunctory level of excitement.
“Great,” I croak, opening my eyes to offer Dad a shaky smile.
He stares at me for a long moment. “I’m proud of you, DJ. Crazy proud.”
I can count on one hand the number of times I remember my father saying those words to me. They used to fill me up, make me whole, but I’m pretty sure that’s impossible now.
This is the part where I’m supposed to glow with pride, and throw my arms around his neck, tearfully thanking him for making me who I am.
Dad looks at me, waiting for it, and a shadow of worry crosses his face when it becomes clear I’m not going to bite.
“Come on.” He rolls to his feet and reaches down to pull me up, too.
“Let’s get you a good night’s sleep. You can call the doctor in the morning. ”
I wince, pain flaring as I reach down to gingerly release my bindings. “He’s not going to give me another injection. It’s supposed to be every six weeks, and it’s only been two.” Doctor Harrison doesn’t bend rules, and I can’t imagine him overlooking medical best practices for anyone, even me.
“He will,” Dad assures me, and looking up, my stomach drops at the hard set in his expression. “I built that man’s practice, DJ. I can unbuild it, too.”
It says a lot about my current state of mind that I haven’t been using every free second to obsess over Doctor Harrison’s unexpected visit to Blue Pike.
The last time we spoke was the night after, when he texted me to tell me he’d be too busy for the sports medicine interview, and he was sorry.
I’d spent half an hour trying to find the right words to tell him how much that hour together on the mountain had meant to me, but nothing felt right.
Then it occurred to me that there was no way Doctor Harrison had spent so long composing that simple text, and I ended up sending a short ‘No problem! I didn’t want to do it, anyway! ’ .
He never replied. It was ridiculous for me to be disappointed considering I hadn’t offered anything worthy of responding to, but I still was. The only perk of the past brutal week of training that followed was not having spare time or energy to dwell on it.
Now, I’m lying in bed with my thumbs hovering over the keyboard on my screen, pulse throbbing.How the hell do I tell him I’ve been downplaying my pain? Or that Dad is about to put him in a really shitty position? Or that I wish I could text him without having a reason?
Delta: Hey, hope your week’s been good. Just wanted to give you a heads up that I’m going to call the office in the morning. I’ve been having some pain. Dad wants me to get another injection.
I curl deeper into my covers, not expecting him to respond tonight.
It’s nearly midnight, and he’s mentioned before that he’s usually an early riser like I am.
My heart leaps when, not even a minute later, my phone vibrates, and I fumble to hold it up.
Right on the screen is an incoming call from “Doc”.
Holy shit.
My hands are clumsy and numb as I hit ‘answer’.
“Hello?”
“Delta.” I love it when he says my name like that, all growly and exasperated. Just the sound of it makes warmth spread through my whole body, and the muscles in my lower belly tighten.
I lean back in bed and close my eyes, relief flooding through me. “You didn’t need to call.”
Doctor Harrison scoffs. “You’re admitting to having pain. Your leg must be damn near falling off. ”
“Not quite.” I bend the leg in question. It’s not so bad after the ice bath I took when I got home and laying still for the past few hours. “I just wanted to give you some warning. About Dad, I mean. I’ll try talking to him in the morning, but you know what he’s like.”
“I can handle River, but you need to tell me right away when you’re having pain.
” Through the phone, I can hear his footsteps and the sound of a door closing.
“I can’t give you another dose. It would be dangerous, but we can try another injection point at your next appointment.
I can use ultrasound to guide the needle—” He doesn’t get it, but then again, how could he?
After all, I’ve covered this up until I physically can’t take it anymore.
“That’s not for a month.” Somehow, I can’t see Dad accepting that, and I won’t make it that long, even with unlimited access to pain pills.
Doctor Harrison is silent, and I know he’s probably doing that cute frowny face he makes when he’s thinking hard about something.
“There are other treatments we can try, but they all require surgery, which isn’t an option for you right now.
Delta, your cartilage is almost gone. There’s not a lot I can do to treat that.
We’re reaching the end of the road here. ”