Chapter 22 Hayden #2
“Chaulke and Chase would be easy to confuse,” I say more to myself than him. Only, I don’t remember ever telling him my name. It’s on the employee contact list, which I didn’t think he’d bothered to look at, though he must have at some point if he got my number. “You know my last name?”
“It’s on the paperwork Carter gave me. So’s your number. I put it in my phone to make it easier to call out. What’d I say when you told me you weren’t Chase?”
“I didn’t,” I whisper.
Ryder’s body goes stiff beneath me. “Why not?”
At least he didn’t bolt out of bed. Hopefully, that’s a good thing. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react, and you were communicating. It seemed like you needed that. Plus,” I take a deep breath before making my final admission, “you started talking about me and I was curious.”
“What did I say?”
“That I make you feel.” The measured rise and fall of his chest tells me he’s fighting for calm, and I figure I’ve got a fifty-fifty shot that the more I say the more he’ll relax. Not the greatest odds. On the other hand, he’s still here. Screw it.
“I had a lot of time to think about what that meant, and I’m pretty sure I’ve always made you feel something.
At first it was anger. Or irritation. Either way, I doubt that was scary, so you didn’t have any reason to avoid me.
But if I make you feel something besides anger, that might make you stay away.
If I’m right, and you pulled away because you feel something for me, well… That’s why I’m not upset.”
“You should be.” His fingers resume their path up and down my arm. “Even now, I’m not sure I’m in the right headspace for…whatever this is we’re doing.”
His heartbeat ticks up underneath my hand.
“I know. One of the things I’ve learned in this job is to be careful about getting too close to the people you’re trying to help.
They need an internal motivator to work on their recovery, not an external one, and they can confuse the two if they become attached to someone during the recovery process. ”
“You tried telling me that earlier. When we were dancing.”
I nod my head up and down, which he seems to understand even though the movement is hindered by his chest.
“Makes sense,” he sighs. “So, why am I in your bed?”
“You shouldn’t be. I like that you are, though.” I twist my head just enough to place a soft kiss on his pec.
He’s still for a moment. Silent. Then he hugs me closer to him. “I like it, too. I’m not sure it will fix me though, if that’s what you’re hoping for. By tomorrow morning, I might be freaking out again.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“I mean, obviously, I’d rather you didn’t run out of here in a panic, but if you do, at least I’ll know why.”
He brings his free hand up to tunnel in my hair. “I don’t know if I should be relieved or scared that you’re so patient.”
“Like I said, I’ve seen this pattern before, and if I didn’t think you want to break it, I wouldn’t be so understanding. But I think you do.”
“Why?” His fingers gently massage my scalp.
“Bit by bit you’re outgrowing the need to drink your emotions away. You stayed sober—mostly—so you could ride with Max. You talked to your friend Blake tonight, which was obviously a big deal. And you haven’t run out of here, yet.”
“Yet.” He drops my hair and lets his hand fall to his stomach. “We both know I still could.”
“And we both know I wouldn’t stop you if that’s what you needed to do.”
He’s quiet for so long I think he’s drifted off, but when he finally speaks, he opens up in a way I never expected him to. One I’m confident stems from me saying I’ll give him the space he needs.
“I was supposed to be on that plane.” The words are so soft I have to strain to hear them, so I lay absolutely still.
“Chase moved away from Katah Vista after getting his heart broken by someone here. I still don’t know who, since being gay in a small town made him really private about his love life.
But we hadn’t ridden together in months—and I knew he wasn’t ready to come back here—so I suggested the trip.
Then one of my sponsors called. The company had a new president or some shit like that so I couldn’t say no, and I suggested Chase take his new boyfriend with him in my place. They’re both dead because of me.”
Up until now, I thought his aversion to finding happiness was due to anger.
It’s not an uncommon reaction, though the extent to which he tried to avoid being happy seemed extreme.
Now though? Now, I understand why he feels so much guilt when he does anything that resembles having fun. Living. He has survivor’s guilt.
“I didn’t know you were supposed to be there, too. I can see how that would make losing him even harder.”
He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.
“I ditched that sponsor, but the ones I have left want a status update. I’ve already missed three races, so I’m likely out of the running for the World Cup title this season, but there are half a dozen races left and if I want to keep my eligibility, I need to be in one of them.
Plus, I have no shot at an Olympic team if I don’t keep that eligibility.
But racing feels sort of pointless in the whole scheme of things, you know. ”
Now it’s my turn to be speechless. First, from the sheer volume of information he just shared that I sort of assumed would take weeks, if not months, to come out.
And second, he had—has—a shot at the Olympics?
No wonder Max was so infatuated with him.
He’s a far better athlete than I gave him credit for, even after I learned he was somewhat famous.
For a brief moment, I feel guilty that I wasn’t nicer to him from the start, but I shake that off since nothing can be done about it now. Besides, by his own admission he liked that I didn’t coddle him, that I held him accountable no matter what.
“Lots of things seem pointless when you lose someone or something. That doesn’t mean they don’t still have value. Think of how many people you impact with your racing. Your sponsors, your fans.”
“My impact on sponsors is financial. I’m sure they’ll survive without me wearing their gear.” He’s not being argumentative, just factual. And he’s not wrong.
“What about your fans? They aren’t making money off you, they’re inspired by you. Like Max. Do you think he would’ve wanted to try snowboarding if he wasn’t your fan?”
“Maybe.” His shoulder lifts slightly under my head. “Max thinks I should race again.”
“What do you think?”
“This past week was the first time in months, maybe years, that I didn’t ride with the goal of getting down the mountain as fast as I could. Even when I was riding with Chase we were always racing to some degree. Riding with Max was just…fun.”
“Do you feel guilty about it being fun?” I finally gather the courage to look at him, propping my head on my hand so I can see his face.
“A little.” His brows draw together slightly as he watches the ceiling. “But not so much because Chase isn’t here. It’s more that I wish instead of always turning things into a race we just played around on the mountain. I think he would’ve liked that. But he raced thinking that’s what I wanted.”
“Were you always competitive like that?”
“Once we got faster than our parents, yes. Before that, we rode for fun.” His lips tug up like he wants to smile. “That was a long time ago.”
“Sounds like before you decide if you want to race again you need to remember why you started in the first place.”
“How?”
“Just go out and have fun. Ride with your friends. Don’t try to be the fastest and just see where the trail takes you.”
He turns to look at me, studying me thoughtfully. “I see why you’re in charge of things even though you aren’t very good on the mountain.”
“Why?”
“You’re good at putting things in perspective. Knowing what people need to hear so they can move forward. You make me want to try.”
Ryder cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him, resting his lips against mine in a tender kiss. It’s soft. Sweet. And makes my heart pound in my chest as a tiny tingle forms between my legs.
I rub them together, trying to chase away the desire that seems inappropriate given the intimacy of the conversation we’re having. Either Ryder misinterprets my actions, or he’s feeling a tingle of his own, because his warm, heavy hand makes its way to the inside of my thigh.