Chapter 8
Sam
It was dark, the sky filled with stars and the wind nonexistent.
Down near the base of the competition slope, sponsor banners barely moved, and the crowds gathered.
Livigno’s snowy peaks were shadowy silhouettes against the brightly lit terrain, the snow sparkling under the floodlights.
Sam stood at the top of the slope, holding her board tightly.
With a sigh she smoothed down the Ohana sticker her mom had given her years ago after a family holiday.
She didn’t care that it was meant for a surfboard—it was the meaning that she loved.
Now it was fading, scratched and the edges were curled.
Sam pressed down again on the sticker, willing it to stay on.
She’d peeled it off every old board and set it on every new one.
It had survived snowstorms, competitions, and tears.
But there was no way she could compete without it.
She kissed two fingers and touched the sticker, praying it wouldn’t come off. She needed it.
“Sam!” Her dad stalked over to her. His voice was low but sharp as his eyes flickered over the sticker. “Get it together. You look like you’ve never seen a slope before.”
“Okay,” Sam snapped. “I’m with it. Ugh.” She struggled with her goggles and her helmet.
“You’re not.” Jake fixed her with a hard stare. “You haven’t been with it since we got here. This isn’t some backcountry practice run, Sam. It’s the damn Olympics.”
“I know what it is.” Sam’s tone cracked sharper than she intended.
“Then act like it,” Jake said. “You can’t let your mind wander—not now. This isn’t a season—it’s your career.”
The words hit like icy water, but Sam didn’t flinch. Jake continued. He stepped toward her. “You were made for this, Sam. Don’t throw it away because you’re too stubborn to talk to me.”
Sam kept her eyes on the slope. “You know what day today is?”
His silence stretched.
“Five years ago,” she added quietly. “The drive home from the Breckenridge qualies. Leo driving, Mom singing those country love songs …”
Jake looked away, jaw working.
“She always said qualies were her favorite.” Sam’s voice caught just slightly. “I’m not distracted, Dad. I’m focused—on more than you think.”
Jake’s shoulders shifted, like he might feel something, but he leaned backwards, as if he was suddenly burdened by emotions.
His eyes flickered with a mix of sadness, grief, and hope.
Sam searched his strong, angled face. Maybe he’d reach out, just once, like he used to, before everything changed.
But instead, he raised his chin, his eyes on the course she was about to run.
“Land the 1080 clean, no flair, no distractions. Keep it technical.” Jake turned away.
Sam nodded as he glanced back at her, fighting the tightness in her chest. How was he able to do this—focus so clearly on the competition without thinking about Mom and how happy she’d been to see where they were today?
She watched as he stood to one side, scrutinizing the competition, his face still, his eyes slits.
Then she turned her attention to the slopes as Lila Chambers got in position for her final run.
The British woman kept her eyes on the slope and ignored Jake Harrington and Sam saluted her for that.
It wasn’t an easy task ignoring Coach Harrington’s presence.
Lila took off and Sam held her breath as the young woman zoomed down the approach, then up over the jump.
Everything looked great, but Sam knew Lila had ruined her chances as soon as she’d gone into the air.
She cringed as Lila seemed to lose her balance midair—she gripped her snowboard for a moment too long and paid the price.
Her mouth grimaced and her arms waved wildly as she fell, missing her landing badly.
There was an audible collective intake of breath from the crowd as Lila crashed down, sliding and tumbling to a stop.
She lay in a crumpled heap for a minute before moving slightly.
Sam hugged her board and watched in horror as a number of officials hurried toward Lila, while a medical crew with a stretcher came into sight.
Lila slowly got up, shook herself off and dejectedly slid down the slope to the relieved cheers of the crowd.
The medical crew checked her over and she left with them, not even waiting for her score.
Sam swallowed. She loved snowboarding, but the sport was unforgiving when you made a mistake, and you could get broken up really bad if you made one slight error.
Her mouth went dry as she went through the trick she was thinking of pulling off.
If she managed to do it then she’d certainly get a place in the final, but if she messed up then she’d be out.
This was her final run of the qualifiers for the big air section, and while her score so far was good, she needed this run to be brilliant—if even just to boost her confidence.
Pulling her gaze away from the slope, Sam listened to the commentator.
Gabriel’s deep voice rang out clearly, his concise commentary fair and accurate, and Sam was sure that Maya would be hovering around the media room trying to catch his eye.
But all of that didn’t matter now. Now there was Finn. At last.
A pleasurable shiver made Sam bite her bottom lip.
Finn! FINN! The way he’d said that he thought the rule was stupid too …
Oh God, the way he’d stared into her eyes as he’d said it.
It had been perfect! So perfect! She broke into a huge smile as Becky made her way past. Becky smiled back and Sam nodded, the smile leaving her face.
Becky had completed two of her three runs and was already ahead of her on the scoreboard and definitely destined for the final.
If she kept up this spate of good luck, she’d take the gold in the final, that was for sure.
This was her third run, and she set off with the confidence of someone who knew she was winning.
Sam watched Becky slide down the approach, holding her breath as Becky picked up speed.
She flew up over the ramp, and Sam breathed out.
Becky executed a perfect frontside double cork 1080 finishing her run off in style and with a punch in the air.
Becky was ecstatic, as were the other competitors.
That run had just given Becky a shot at the podium—she’d already claimed her first finals place.
Sam clapped as they cheered Becky on. She was thrilled for Becky but her mind was racing.
That was exactly what she’d planned on doing.
It was what her dad had told her to do—had he told Becky the same thing?
Should she do it now or would it look like she was copying Becky?
Her dad caught her eye, and she waved at him, seeking his coaching advice.
Originality was a key element, and she didn’t want to get penalized for being a copycat.
She waved again, but her dad turned away and started walking toward the way down as if he was done with the competition.
Sam’s heart pounded hard in her chest, her breath billowing into clouds before her.
What was going on—wasn’t her dad, her coach, going to guide her?
What was she to do now? Sam glanced around.
There was no one near her, not one of her teammates. What would Finn say?
Her eyes skimmed the crowd, searching for Finn.
Finally, she spotted him, near the break in the barriers where the competitors left the run-off.
His tatty orange beanie almost glowed in the crowd.
Her knees went weak thinking of what had happened between them earlier.
Her breath caught in her chest. It had all happened so fast, it hardly felt real—but the ache between her legs that was begging for it to all happen again made her realize that it most certainly had happened, and it had been so damn good.
God, he’d made her come twice, twice! And this was just their first time together.
Her heart pounded as another competitor set off.
Sam barely noticed how that competitor scored.
She couldn’t stop thinking about how when she’d left the hot tub, she’d been sure he wasn’t interested.
But then he’d followed her into the shower …
and oh my God … the way he’d kissed her, the way his hands had possessed her, the way he’d hoarsely whispered her name over and over—it made her think that he’d always known exactly what he wanted to do with her if he’d had the chance.
And he’d made that chance happen—and boy, he’d taken it with both hands.
The way he’d buried his face in her, tasting her as if he were starving, God, just remembering it was almost enough to make her come. Again.
Gabriel’s voice rang out, announcing the score of the previous competitor.
Sam blinked and shook her head. She had to stop thinking of Finn, and how he’d touched her …
She shook herself again and stamped her feet, getting her blood flowing and warming up her muscles.
She knew what Finn would say, he’d say so what if Becky did a loop-di-loop-fandango and the can-can, get out there and have fun and do whatever feels like the right thing to do when you hit that ramp.
But he wasn’t standing here with her. He hadn’t seen how her dad had practically turned his back on her as if she had no chance now that Becky was definitely on the rise.
No, she had to try it. If Becky could do it then she could too.
She just had to do it better. She had to get that medal. She clenched her jaw.
Finn’s voice rang in her mind, have fun he’d said, and she knew he was right, but competing wasn’t just about the fun.
She had to make this count—she just had to.
Her dad was right: she’d worked her whole life for this moment, and she just couldn’t let it be a moment of fun.
She had this one chance because as much as she didn’t agree with her dad, she was afraid that one bad fall, or simply one missed opportunity, would be the thing that would take her out of snowboarding for the rest of her life—like it had for Leo.
Maybe she should change it up—add on to the run that her dad had first told her to do—the run that had given Becky a place in the final. But was that trying too hard?
Taking a breath, Sam closed her eyes and imagined completing the run perfectly.
She imagined going for the triple—then went back to the double—the triple was too hard.
It was too risky. Or was it? Sam tried to think what her dad would say.
Then she opened her eyes, took her position, and went for it.