Chapter 3 #3
“Did I wake you? I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. And despite how badly I need to talk to him, I mean it. I know how important it is for him to be well rested. I’d never want to put his training in jeopardy.
“S’fine,” he slurs, like he’s still trying to get his vocal cords to rise to the challenge of speaking.
“Something big happened, and I knew you’d want to know.”
“What is it, Bella?”
I sink deeper into the pillows of my couch, wishing they could swallow me whole and transport me into Marco’s arms. “Nate’s here. In Park City. Somehow when I was in Italy he weaseled his way onto the team. Josh retired, and now I’m supposed to train Nate, and I’m freaking out so bad right now.”
“You’re saying all these words,” he says, “but they don’t make sense. How could Nate have made the team? He hasn’t competed in . . . wait, has he been competing?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. But somehow, he made the team. And he’s living in Josh’s condo right down the hall and now I’m supposed to be his physical therapist. I can’t do that. There’s no way.”
Marco pauses, the line silent except for the background noise of his sheets rustling.
I picture him sitting up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, and rubbing his thumb along his forehead where it meets his hair, like he does when he’s stressed.
“Let us approach this logically. I mean, maybe this will be a good thing for you?” His voice, soft with his Italian accent, is so hopeful.
“A good thing.” My voice is dead, the emotion completely missing.
I take a bolstering breath. “I punched him today, bruising my knuckles in the process, and my hand is all wrapped up in a splint with ice. That was within the first thirty seconds of seeing him. Can you even imagine what will happen if we have to work together?”
“Maybe you will finally learn the reasons for . . .” The lilt of his accent rattles in the back of his throat. “Everything?”
“You are supposed to be on my side, here!”
“I am always on your side, love. But I’m also not going to lie to you. Your hatred is eating you up inside. It’s preventing you from moving on . . .”
“I have moved on,” I insist.
“Are you sure about that? Because moving on also means letting go. Your hatred is like an obsession, and holding onto it gives him power over you.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “I am not obsessed with him.” The words are barely loud enough to hear.
“I said you’re obsessed with hating him. And maybe if you find the answers you need, you’ll finally be able to let go.”
“I let go a long time ago, Marco.”
“Hmm,” he replies, and I can picture him shaking his head.
“What are you doing now?” I ask, suddenly desperate to change the topic.
“Getting up. I’ll need a double espresso to get going today.”
I picture him fumbling around his room, pulling his sweats on as he stands barefoot on the travertine floors of his bedroom while the dark beams of his ceiling hang over his head.
He’s always groggy in the morning, stumbling around, like his body needs to warm up before the adrenaline rush that fuels him floods his system.
“Sorry about waking you up,” I tell him. “But don’t have a double, or you’ll be impossible today.”
He chuckles. “Good thing you’re not here then, because I’m having a double.” He pauses for a beat. “I miss you. Can’t wait to see you in Finland next month.”
“Yeah, I hope so,” I tell him.
“What do you mean? Is that race in question?”
The first men’s World Cup Slalom and Giant Slalom races are in Levi, Finland in three and a half weeks.
“Everything’s a question right now. I have no idea what events Nate will be racing in yet.
” Just because Josh was going to Levi doesn’t mean Nate is.
“And I’m still hoping I can get out of training him.
I have to try to switch roles with someone else .
. . maybe Nicolette,” I say as the plan starts to formulate in my head.
Nicolette is the physical therapist assigned to work with the sports medicine division that helps injured athletes recuperate at the Center.
But maybe she’d be game for traveling as Nate’s PT instead?
“Which would keep me here in Park City for the winter instead of on the World Cup circuit.”
“I understand why you want this change, but you staying in Park City will make our relationship much more difficult. I can’t only see you once every couple of months.” His voice has that pleading quality he only gets when he’s asking for something he really wants.
“I know. We’ll figure it out, promise. Let me talk to TJ tomorrow and see what my options are.”
“I don’t like that you’re letting Nate influence your career like this,” Marco says.
“You aren’t suggesting I work with him, are you?” I ask Marco.
“I don’t know. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy, Marco,” I tell him, and am rewarded with his trademark sound of disagreement, that Hmm that rattles from the back of his throat.
I could be happy, I want to say, if I wasn’t so worried about my mom and if my ex-boyfriend hadn’t just walked back into my life.