Chapter Forty-One
Campbell Pesansky had become Ben’s number one stalker.
True to her creative social media’ing, she’d turned her silly obsession with him into an ongoing meme she called “Ben Watch,”
where she crowd-sourced his location on a map of the Village and surrounding sports complexes. Anyone who spotted him was
welcome to report where he was to her so she could update the map with his cartoon avatar.
According to the map, he had indeed been in Cortina D’Ampezzo the previous night, which was a relief. I’d been watching her
page all day, hoping for updates that put him back in the Village. As always, my schedule was packed, but I’d find a way to
reach him with Campbell’s help.
I’d set up a massage for after my on-ice practice, but when I checked the Ben Watch map I saw that he was on the far side
of the Village doing “people on the street” interviews.
My sore muscles could wait.
I’d opted to wear the most basic Team USA jacket in my collection—basic blue with minimal embellishments—and oversize sunglasses so I could disappear, and hid my hair under a knit hat.
I refreshed the map and saw that someone had posted a comment with a photo of him five minutes prior.
I broke into a speedwalk, since a true jog would attract attention. Athletes ran, civilians strolled.
I came up on a crowd just outside the gates and sure enough, when I jumped up on a nearby retaining wall I spotted Ben chatting
with a camera operator. It was like he was a zoo animal, with people milling around and watching his every move.
I searched for Business Barbie and was both happy and bummed that she wasn’t nearby. It meant that she was focused on someone
more important.
Ben was officially b-team now, although you wouldn’t know it from looking at him. He posed for selfies with his arm around
fans, wearing a big smile even though he probably wanted to disappear. My heart splintered for him.
I glanced around looking for a spot where we could have some privacy, because my next move had to have the precision of a
military operation: Go into the throng, extract Ben, then take him to a quiet location for a loving beatdown.
The fates were on my side when I spotted Team USA snowboarder Luke Milberg strolling by, a man who knew how to attract attention.
He was walking alone and had his signature pink mohawk hidden under a hat, probably going incognito himself. We’d met in the
training room and had a long conversation about the benefits of arnica gel, and I’d wound up giving him one of my special
tubs of the stuff from Germany since he was nursing a bruise that extended from his knee to his butt cheek.
He owed me.
I explained to him that I needed to cash in on my favor, and he was more than happy to walk into the middle of the crowd around Ben and remove his hat like it was a striptease. Once he had everyone laughing and focused on him I swooped in and grabbed Ben’s hand.
He turned, smiling his performance smile until he realized that it was me. He glanced around.
“What are you doing here?”
“C’mon,” I insisted, dragging him when he refused to move.
“But I’m working.”
“So am I. Give me four minutes.”
He must’ve just walked out of the gates because the guards waved both of us through without an interrogation. I pulled Ben
into the Welcome Experience building with him and startled the young volunteer standing in the lobby with a clipboard.
“Hi folks, I’m so sorry but this area is closed right now—” She paused when she saw Ben, then looked at me. I begrudgingly
pulled off my hat and sunglasses, exposing Quinnett like the two of us together equaled an all-access pass.
“Ohmygosh! Hi, you guys! Can I get you anything? Is there a problem with your merch, Quinn?”
“No, everything is wonderful, thank you so much,” I answered. “We just need to find a quiet spot to talk about, uh, ratings
from The Score. Is that okay with you?”
“Totally! Follow me, I’ll show you where to go.”
The young woman seemed thrilled to be tangentially involved in our mission. She pushed a door open and gestured into the room.
“This was our welcome suite for sponsors. No one is here now so please feel free to make yourselves comfortable.”
I glanced around and realized that the organizations that bankrolled the Games got the kid-glove treatment as well. The room
was a calming navy and filled with plush velvet couches and chairs that looked 100 percent more comfortable than a cardboard
bed.
“I’ll be right out here. Holler if you need me!”
She gave us a little wave then disappeared.
We were finally alone.
“What are you doing, Quinn?” Ben sighed.
Stage-Ben disappeared and was replaced by a version of him I hadn’t encountered. Pale, with bruised-looking half-moons beneath
his eyes.
“I’m saving you from you,” I answered, moving closer to him. I grasped him on both arms.
He froze as he processed what I was saying. I watched his shoulders slump.
“It’s literally the day before the biggest competition of your life,” he complained and tried to pull away, but I tightened
my grip. “Whatever you want to say to me can wait.”
“It absolutely cannot.” I shook my head. “Now listen to me.”
He frowned even harder.
“I. Am. Here. No matter what color dog winds up sleeping on your chest, I need you to know that I will be right beside you
trying to evict it. You decide to bed rot for a week or two? I’ll be sprouting mold one pillow over. You stop showering and
brushing your teeth? I’ll plug my nose. You refuse to answer your phone? I’ll become your social secretary. But the one thing
I won’t do is leave. Got it? I will be there for all the dark shit that you think is going to drag you under, because guess what?”
“What?” Ben asked warily.
“I’m your motherfucking life preserver.”
I watched his face transform as I spoke, from anger, to disbelief, to gratitude that nearly made his eyes brim, which made
mine actually spill over.
“Okay?” I sniffled. “You are not weak, Bennett Martino. You are everything.”
“But . . .”
I wordlessly shook my head.
There was nothing more he could say and he knew it. Ben was now well acquainted with my single-minded focus, and now that
I had a mission he probably correctly assumed that my loving steamroll was unstoppable.
A knot untwisted in my chest when he finally broke from being Mr. Tough Guy and pulled me into a tight hug. He exhaled when
our bodies connected. I pushed my cheek against his chest and breathed him in.
We both needed this moment.
“You don’t have to face it alone,” I murmured.
“Don’t worry, I’ll snap out of it,” he said into my hair.
“If you do, great. If you can’t, I’ll help you find a way to make it happen. You mean too much to me, Ben. We’re getting through
whatever comes next together.”
“But you might be dealing with—”
I squeezed him like it was a punishment.
“Nope. Whatever comes next is we.”