Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Heavy, oppressive silence filled the locker room.
Kirby should have known it was a mistake to talk to Mara.
I’m not your emotional crutch.
Kirby.
Yikes.
Kirby hadn’t sought out Mara intentionally. She had just started to wander through the training areas, looking around, searching for something to calm the rabbiting of her heart. Someone to talk to. Somewhere she belonged.
It was a mistake to think Mara cared about more than a few quickies. Kirby didn’t belong with Mara. Not in the same ski clubs. Not in a relationship.
“You know, we compete in such a physically agonizing sport. Pushing our bodies to collapse,” Kirby said.
“Pushing until we are in unimaginable pain. But you saying that might have hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt while skiing.
” Kirby tried to speak as evenly as she could.
She deserved to say her peace, whether Mara was mature enough to hear it or not.
“That seems… a little dramatic.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
Mara’s spine went straight as a ski pole. She was in her training gear and as beautiful as ever. “No really. Why would that hurt? Why does it matter what I say now?”
Kirby paced away. She wanted to rip her own hair out. It felt like what they had, what they could have, was so obvious. But not to Mara May, who evidently only had skis for brains.
They hadn’t spoken in days, and the separation felt like the full-body agony at the end of a race. She’d wanted to celebrate with Mara after winning her bronze medal. She’d wanted to commiserate with Mara after Mara had won hers because Kirby knew Mara wouldn’t be happy with a bronze.
But Mara had avoided her like she had before.
Before they’d kissed. Before they’d fucked. Before the slow creep of vulnerability between them.
“If you can’t answer that for yourself, then you are the most obtuse person I’ve ever met.”
“It’s not like we’re, I don’t know… You do this all the time,” Mara said. “I thought it didn’t mean anything to you. You said it was nothing.”
“You’re the literal worst.”
“What did you expect? Don’t you hook up with people all the time? How was I supposed to know I was any different than anyone else?”
“Real nice. Using my sexual history as a dig.”
“It’s not a dig!” Mara raised her voice.
“I am genuinely asking. What have you ever said or done that would make me think it was anything besides blowing off steam? What did you say that day after the Janette Collins interview? You wanted hot and meaningless. That’s what I thought this was.
Yes, we’re compatible in bed, but that doesn’t mean you have feelings for me. ”
“If you can’t tell, then you’re—”
“That’s unfair,” Mara interrupted. “The most important thing to me was competing. This”—she gestured between them—“is not something I am willing to lose sleep over right now.”
“Yes, God forbid I have a feeling. Sorry that’s so inconvenient for you.”
“I thought we were on the same page. You’ve been saying the same shit about me in interviews,” Mara snapped.
“And you’ve been giving it right back. I thought we… I thought it was understood. That it was—”
“A game?”
It was a game. But Kirby’s feelings didn’t feel like a game anymore.
“Yeah.”
“Yes,” Mara snarled. “And I love joking about the worst day of my life. How fun for me.”
“Losing one race. What a privilege for that to be your worst day. Give me a break.” Kirby felt done and mean. It wasn’t a good combo. It hadn’t served her well in relationships in the past.
Mara’s cheeks were red, and her body seemed geared up to fight. She was tight as a bowstring and practically shaking. Not the cold, little princess after all.
Kirby crowded her against one of the fancy wooden lockers. They were both breathing hard. Mara licked her lips, and Kirby wanted to kiss her. She wanted to pin Mara to the wall, bite the join of her neck and shoulder, and make her come apart.
“You know what?” Kirby whispered, venom in her voice.
She touched a curl of Mara’s hair that had fallen over her shoulder.
One last touch. “You’re right. You’re not worth losing focus over.
Or spending time on. And just to be clear, you’ve been using me as your emotional crutch for twelve days, since that very first time, princess.
So I wanted to exchange a few pleasantries before reducing you to nothing but a begging hot mess. Sue me. And grow up.”
A throat cleared. “Umm.”
Kirby jerked away from Mara at the sound, and Mara basically threw herself across the room. It would have been funny if Kirby had been capable of accessing her sense of humor at that moment.
Lindsey was standing in the doorway, her sports bag in her hand. Her eyes were as wide as saucers.
“Hi,” Kirby said. Cold sweat broke out on Kirby’s back, and adrenaline made her ears ring.
“Hi.” Lindsey glanced between them. “So.”
“No.” Mara shook her head, one quick jerk. “No.”
Kirby felt upset. But Mara looked upset. She wasn’t hiding it. It was a douse of cold water to see Mara’s live reaction to being romantically associated with Kirby. Not exactly a confidence boost.
“No what?” Lindsey said very slowly. “I didn’t, you know, see or hear anything very wild and out of the ordinary.”
“No,” Mara repeated. “I can’t… No.”
Kirby wanted to come to Mara’s rescue. But she didn’t. Mara was a big girl.
“I guess, umm.” Lindsey turned to Kirby. “I could give you guys a few more minutes.”
“It’s fine. I’m done here,” Kirby said coldly.
“Kirby,” Mara said, her voice soft.
“Uh-uh. Don’t call me that now,” Kirby said.
“Yeah, I’m gonna go,” Lindsey said.
“Nah.” Kirby shrugged. “I am.”
“Mara, sit down,” Lindsey said gently.
Mara was poised like she was about to burst off the starting line. She felt cornered, but she didn’t know if she wanted to race after Kirby or run and hide.
“I just…” Mara twitched but couldn’t make her feet move. “I think I…” Messed up. Ruined something.
“You’re okay. Sit down.” Lindsey pushed her onto a bench. The same bench she’d been kissing Kirby on.
Mara popped back up like the seat had burned her.
“So if you’re having an emotional breakdown, let me know,” Lindsey said. “We have support for mental health stuff.”
“I’m not. I’m fine.” Debatable. “Nine more days.”
“What?” Lindsey said. “Do I need to go get a coach?”
“There’s nine days to the fifty-k.”
“Yeah.”
“One day to the relay. Five to the team sprint.” Mara paced across the room. She tried to control her breathing.
“You’re not in those races.”
“I know. Kirby is. That’s Kirby’s schedule. And my schedule. It’s the… schedule.”
“Yeah, I’m going to get a coach.”
“No!” Mara sat down beside her. “I’m fine.”
Super debatable. She’d never had a breakup like that before. Was it a breakup if it hadn’t been real to begin with?
But it had been real to Kirby.
How and when had that happened? How had Mara missed it?
If she checked her biometrics on her fancy smartwatch, it would probably look like she’d had a heart attack or something. Her whole body felt like an exposed nerve.
“How are things with you and Apollo?” Mara asked. She didn’t know what else to say.
“Holy fuck, Mara. I am not talking about boys with you right now.”
“Okay.”
Lindsey stared at her. Mara stared at her feet.
“Hey,” Lindsey said. Then Lindsey hugged her, and nothing could have shocked Mara more.
Tears sprung to her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Oh, no.” She squeezed Lindsey back and held on.
“It’s going to be okay. I don’t know what all that was, but it’s going to be okay.”
Mara nodded against Lindsey’s shoulder.
“You deserve to be celebrated and loved on for your last season, Mara. It’s a big deal.
Your retirement. Your last Olympics. Have you seen the Instagram posts?
So many people are posting tributes and memories for you.
I love KB. She’s fun and a great teammate, but don’t let her drag you into drama either.
Don’t let her ruin this for you. Focus on your Olympics, and lock in. ”
“She didn’t drag me.”
“All right.”
“I wanted these Olympics to be fun.” That comment fell between them like a lead balloon.
Lindsey laughed. And that made Mara laugh too.
Mara pulled back. “I sound so unhinged right now. I feel so unhinged.”
“You’re not known for being fun.”
“No.”
Lindsey smiled. “It’s a good thing to want, though. I’ll tell you what—let’s watch figure skating tonight. It’s the men’s free skate. That will be fun.”
“You’re sure?” Mara wanted that. “Don’t you have training?” She was calming down. All the defense mechanisms clicking back into place.
She had fucked up with Kirby. Mara had started it, but Kirby had proven why she was so good on reality TV by finishing it.
“No, it was optional. Let’s go,” Lindsey said before ushering Mara back to their room. Mara was in a daze and let herself be led.
Somehow, Lindsey magicked up grilled chicken, pasta, salad, and cannoli, and Mara ate it without thinking about the nutritional content.
“This might be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” Mara said, after demolishing the cannoli.
“That sounded so dirty, but I don’t feel like I can make a joke about it,” Lindsey said.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re about to cry.”
Mara sighed. She wasn’t about to cry, but it felt like she was viewing the world through static.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Lindsey asked. “I’m all ears. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Not even Apollo?”
Lindsey glanced down at her phone. “He’s with KB. He texted earlier. Said she needed him.”
“Is she okay?”
Lindsey smiled. “He keeps Kirby’s secrets.”
Mara set her plate aside and fell back on the bed. “Ugh. What a melodrama we have going on here.”
“At the worst time too. Poor judgment by all of us.”
Mara laughed, but it came out more like a dry cough. “Yeah, what were we thinking?”
“Well, I was thinking that I couldn’t keep leading Apollo on without being honest about my feelings because he’d eventually fall in love with Kirby, and then I’d be super sad.”
“Oh.” Mara knew Kirby and Apollo had hooked up before.
Kirby had told her as much, but it had never occurred to Mara to be jealous about it.
Mara and Kirby’s chemistry had been so explosive.
Addictive almost. It had been the ultimate distraction.
And Kirby had seemed just as affected by it.
So no, Mara hadn’t been worried about Apollo.
“What were you thinking?” Lindsey asked.
Mara covered her face. “I can’t talk about it.”
“No gossip. Got it.”
Mara hadn’t meant to hurt Kirby. She’d just wanted to stop feeling so turned around. So vulnerable. And she hadn’t known how to tell her that without breaking everything to pieces.
“I shouldn’t have left before seeing Kirby’s sprint final.”
“Everyone—the press, the coaches—they all act like you’re some great leader because you’re a great skier, but a leader wouldn’t have left.”
“I know.” Mara swallowed the lump in her throat. “It freaked me out. I was so worked up, wanting her to do well. So worried. I was too invested. I’d felt like my body couldn’t handle the stress.”
“You probably read the endings of books first too.”
“What?” Mara said. She’d known Lindsey a long time. She hoped they would be friends once this was over. But this was the deepest conversation they’d ever had, and Mara didn’t quite know how to follow Lindsey’s conversational detours.
“I think that hurt her. That you weren’t there,” Lindsey said. “She asked for you afterward.”
“Aww, damn it.” Mara pressed her palms to her eye sockets.
“It’s okay to want to wait until after competition to figure your feelings out,” Lindsey said. “Especially at the Olympics. Like, that makes sense, Mara. You deserve the time and space to focus and compete.”
“Sure.” Logically, that was the truth. Mara had been saying it from the beginning. To herself. To Kirby.
But emotions weren’t logical. And Mara couldn’t get around the fact that she had broken something worth keeping precious and safe.
Lindsey stood up. “Come on. Let’s go watch figure skating. Maybe the lounge won’t be too wild.”
The lounge was a madhouse. American cross-country skiers and ski jumpers were all squished in around a large TV to watch the event. Luckily, Apollo and Kirby were nowhere to be seen. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to see Kirby without crying, fleeing, or starting another fight.
There had been watch parties in the lounge since the beginning of the Games, but the only time she’d been in there had been to film the condom unboxing video with Kirby.
She sat on the same couch, in the same spot where Kirby had kissed her, and tried to focus on the screen.
It was hard. She kept thinking back to that kiss. To every kiss.
Kirby had the video. It had been unnerving seeing how easily Kirby took her down in that clip. She’d been under Kirby’s spell after nothing but a touch. She hadn’t liked seeing the proof of it.
After Mara had distantly watched a few figure skaters complete their programs, Brandilyn plopped into the spot beside her. Lindsey was still on Mara’s other side, steady like a sentry.
“Hey, Mara May.”
“Hi, Brandilyn. How’s the knee?”
“Shaky.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mara said. “Will you race in the relay?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to let the team down. And who knows? I might not ever get a chance at the Olympics again. I don’t want to miss it.”
Mara turned to her. “You’ll get another chance. You’re talented.”
Brandilyn shrugged. “Not everyone does. Not everyone is like you. Or KB.”
“I’m not… You can be. There’s longevity in our sport if you take care of yourself. That’s not something I’ve always been good at, but I hope you will be.”
“The doctors said I can ski on the knee. It’s just a little—”
“I don’t mean your knee. I mean take care of yourself here.” Mara tapped her own temple. “And here.” She touched her own chest.
Brandilyn took that sappiness with as much seriousness as it deserved. Mara never doled out life or skiing advice, and Brandilyn clearly didn’t know what to say. She nodded and immediately started chatting up a ski jumper who was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa.
Lindsey bumped her shoulder against Mara’s. “Hey, hey, leader.”
Mara brushed that off with a small smile.
She’d taken pains throughout her career to protect her peace, to isolate, to avoid every hard thought and feeling that didn’t apply to racing better, to being better.
Nothing mattered but being the best cross-country skier.
But maybe being the best racer was about more than optimizing her body, her intervals, and her nutrition.
She needed to listen to her own advice and take care of her heart.