CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR ALARA
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ALARA
Diego sounds hopeful. Excited. And that makes a throbbing pain rush through my entire body before it violently wraps around my heart.
I knew this day was coming, but not this early.
I thought we had more time.
I just started to have him, and now he wants to go back to his life – a life I’m definitely not part of.
Blinded by my love for him and all the moments when we lost ourselves in each other, I thought he’d changed his mind.
I had absolutely no idea that he was so eager to go back to Utah.
He hadn’t expressed his desperation to leave in a while.
Now, I feel like the biggest idiot. Diego’s priority will always be snowboarding.
Swallowing the heavy knot that’s built in my throat, I watch him walk down the stairs while raking his fingers through his disheveled hair.
He’s put his boxers on, his toned chest dotted with the reddish marks I branded him with last night.
My hands are already shaking, because I’m about to confront him about the call, so I grip the edge of the counter I’m leaning against. My coffeemaker stops purring, indicating that my cup is full and ready to be consumed, but I can’t stomach doing anything while the fear of losing him is fogging my mind.
“Do you know how to make French toast?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to my state of distress. “I’ve been craving it since Val mentioned it yesterday.”
So, he’s not going to say anything? He just wants to eat?
When I don’t answer, he looks up at me with a frown pulling at his brows. “What’s wrong?” He takes a seat on a barstool, catching the way I start to worry my lip. I never do that, but I need to hold a semblance of control over my emotions.
After taking a breath in, I say, as softly as I can, hoping to conceal the bitter taste on my tongue, “So, this is what you wanted, right? Be cleared by the end of the month? You’re going back?”
Diego’s mouth parts. His frown deepens. “Were you eavesdropping?”
The tone he uses, the way I’m ready to get defensive, tells me I should’ve approached the situation differently.
“It’s not like you were trying to be discreet about it,” I snap. “You put him on speaker and this place is small.”
“I didn’t even say yes.” His voice is strained, rough, like he’s trying to rein in his own frustration.
“You thought about it.”
His nostrils flare. “What do you want me to say, Alara? You knew the plan all along. You knew I wanted to be out of here as quickly as possible.”
God, my heart is breaking bit by bit. I think he knows that I’m already hurting – I’ve never been able to hide my emotions from him.
My vision starts to blur. “I know that, but what’s the rush? Why not finish your recovery here?”
He doesn’t answer the question, and I can’t even read his expression. It’s like he’s pulled his mask back on – one he hasn’t worn in weeks. At least, not around me.
He swallows. “So, you’re not happy for me that I got the green light to leave.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Diego. Don’t say that, not after the way I’ve been so supportive of you.” I close my eyes. Breathe deeply. “Do you really want to leave now?” I ask, my question fading into a whisper as my voice cracks.
“I don’t know, Alara. You’re throwing me off guard here. You had to jump in, bury your nose in my business when my initial idea was to sort things out before talking about it with you.”
I look at the rug beneath my bare feet, unable to hold his gaze, burning with irritation. “You told me there’s nothing for you back there. Barely any friends, an apartment you don’t like. You look happy here. I know you are, and I just want what’s best for you.”
“And what’s that, hmm? You think there’s something holding me back in Blue Ridge?
” Me! God, why can’t I be enough for him?
He swallows thickly, his eyes misting over.
“Do you understand that my entire future lies in Coach Wilson’s hands?
What do you think he’ll say if I refuse to go back? I’m already a failure—”
“You’re not,” I cut in harshly. “You’re not. Don’t belittle yourself like this. You know you’ve made some major progress in the last couple of weeks. I’m sure he’ll understand if you ask to finish your recovery here. Your physio’s wife is pregnant, and you’re seriously going to make them move?”
“I haven’t decided one fucking thing yet.”
“And, what, you’re going to lie about your pain to everyone over there too?
” He appears shocked that I know he’s been lying this whole time.
His lips part, but I continue. “You’ve been able to hide the truth from everyone else but not me.
Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you massage your knee after a long day at the resort.
How you wake in the middle of the night to ice it. ”
“You don’t understand.”
“I do! And your health is much more important than a sponsorship deal. What if you injure yourself again? Why take such big risks?”
Leaning his elbows on the counter, he passes his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “I know you get me, so why are you trying to make me stay?”
Because I love you, you fucking idiot. Those exact seven words were about to burst out, but what I say instead is, “You can be such an ass.”
He stands, throwing his arms to the side before letting them back down, his palms slapping the sides of his thighs. “Well, you already knew that, yet you still took my cock like the good girl you are.”
What the hell has gotten into him?
I scoff, anger bubbling inside my stomach. Pushing myself off the counter, I curl my trembling hands into fists. He notices the motion, but doesn’t react. “And when you act like this? I don’t even know why I got involved with you. This arrangement was a bad idea.”
That’s not true, and I know we’re both saying things we don’t mean. But we’re confused. We’re scared of losing each other. And our defense mechanisms? Pushing each other away instead of talking, listening, hearing, the way we usually do.
There I was, certain he felt the same way about me and that he’d fight for us. Maybe it’s just selfish of me to want him to stay, but what am I supposed to do? He’s slipping through my fingers, and I don’t want him to go.
“What is it that you want?” he asks, a muscle in his jaw pulsing. “Did you think I was going to throw everything away for . . . you?”
I shake my head, my throat burning. “You know I’d never ask anything of you, especially not that. But the initial plan was for you to stay until the end of January, and I was just hoping that you’d do that. I thought I had more time with you.”
“Why?”
“Forgive me for liking you,” I bite out.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Alara.” His chest rises then falls, his gaze darting to settle on a spot behind my head.
The way his jaw tightens as he lets his mask slip away, allowing me to see how hurt he is too, tells me he doesn’t mean a single one of the lies he’s spitting out. “It wasn’t supposed to happen!”
A cold laugh breaks free. Angrily, I bat a tear away with the back of my hand. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
The silence stretches out for a long moment, the sound of his heavy exhale filtering through the room. I can see the turmoil, clear as water, in his eyes. “So, what now?”
My voice thickens with emotion. I try to return to a state of calmness, but it’s really hard. I can’t give up on him so weakly, so easily. “Would you . . . What if we did long distance?”
Shock flashes in his eyes. “Don’t ask me to do something you’re against. You don’t do long distance, Alara.”
Why does it feel like he’s finding any possible excuse to put an end to this? Do I seriously not mean anything to him?
“I would for you. Without a doubt.” My lower lip trembles. “I honestly thought that—”
“That what?”
“That I’m enough for you!” I blurt out without thinking. My vision grows hazier by the minute. “That you might ask Coach to stay. For me. Or that you’d consider being with me even if you’re one state away. But I’m being selfish, aren’t I?”
For a beat, a flickering, fleeting one, his eyes soften.
But it happens so quickly that I might be imagining it.
“I told you from the very start, I warned you, and you understood that I was leaving. I am leaving, even if that’s in a month.
There’s no guarantee that I’ll be back soon.
If I can compete again, I’ll have to travel until the season’s over. ”
A tear rolls down my cheek. Diego tracks its path to my jaw, hurt flashing in his eyes too. “Did it even mean something to you? Us?”
“No,” he answers, his chin quivering. “It was always just casual, and you fucking know it. It didn’t mean a thing, and you’re not—”
He stops himself, instant regret in his eyes as he runs a trembling hand over his mouth. All I can feel is my heart dropping, breaking into irreparable pieces.
I cross my arms over my chest, tipping my chin up despite my body feeling ready to fall to the ground.
He wants to hurt me? I’m going to stab the knife in his wound too.
Twist it and dig it deeper, hoping he feels the pain I’m carrying.
Another teardrop cascades down my cheek, but I steel my voice.
“You know what? You’re right. I’m glad we’re on the same page.
This was just fucking, and nothing more. ”
He takes a step toward me. He’s crying, for fuck’s sake, yet he’s not trying to apologize. Or fix it. “Alara . . .”
“It’s settled,” I retaliate brusquely. “Get out, Diego.”
“Alara—”
I’m already headed toward my bathroom, uncontrollable and unstoppable tears streaming down my face.
I want him to fight me. I want him to beg for forgiveness so we can sort this out.
I also want to find the strength to turn back around and apologize, but I’m blinded by rage, and all I can say is, “Leave.”