Chapter 67
NOAH
I’m at the starting line, sliding my goggles over my eyes, watching the crowd below cheer. Morning wind picks up, chilling my nose and cheeks. I’m counting backward in my head from ten, inhaling and exhaling in between to keep my nerves in check. So far so good, and even better after seeing Red.
Gosh, she’s even more breathtaking when she’s all disheveled from running up the hill.
Her cheeks the color of red roses, lips pouty and plump, eyes as blue as the fucking Mediterranean Sea.
Knowing she’s here and back to see this through warms all my muscles.
My chest vibrates with a familiar emotion: one of love and trust. It throws all our fights, and she’s pushing me out the window.
There’s nothing to forgive; she’s not at fault for how I arrived unexpectedly at her doctor's office and reacted the way she did.
I overstepped, big time. And I gave her space, hoping, praying, to see her again and hear her voice one more time.
Now she’s by my side and waiting to see this through with me.
Because when I reach the end of my run, I know who I’ll be celebrating with at the bottom, who I’ll hug and kiss when it’s over, and I’m not letting her go, not this time, regardless of what her last words were to me.
I’m going to save her best friend’s ski resort. I’m going to save us.
An announcer hushes the crowd, and I roll my shoulders in anticipation as he goes through the roster of each Olympian. Each second that passes is another attempt at psyching myself out, and I refuse to let my insecurities destroy what I’ve worked so hard to build.
“First up is two-time gold medal Olympian Noah Hart! All the way from Salt Lake City, Utah!”
Cheers roar up the halfpipe, and the crowd goes berserk, waving signs and phones, capturing every second.
I get into my stance, wiggling out the last of my anxiety, and picture the one person who has become my anchor.
A shot is heard, and I’m coasting down, wind whipping past, gaining speed for my first trick. Blue eyes come to mind when I ease into a butter trick, a Nose-Roll 180. It sticks, not a single hiccup when I lift the nose from the snow and pop an airborne spin, turning it into a full 360.
Shouts of excitement and whistles erupt when I land, and I continue, my mind utterly empty of everything except for my image of Red.
My lips are chapped, breathing heavy, preparing for my next move.
Air to fakie is my favorite in the lineup, and I’m able to jump, launch from one of the walls, and come back down, but riding backward.
It’s flawless when I complete it, chasing the high of the adrenaline rush of not only my moves but the crowd as well.
It’s everything I’ve missed these past few weeks, having full control of my brain and how I’m able to move my body without restraint. It’s who I am down to my core, a turning point in my childhood that made me the man I am today.
It’s Alley-Oop time, and I smile, remembering when I tried to help Red polish it. The way she rolls her eyes and argues, how defiant she is when she believes she’s right and someone else is wrong. I barely register my actions when I’m already completing the move, soaring even higher in the clouds.
Chants of my name get louder the further I get to the end, wanting my last move to make history here at Snowy Peak.
Double McTwist 1260 is the move I performed when I lost my last gold medal, and it’s the move I’m going to make now.
Only this time, I’m going to stick the landing.