Chapter 2
ALEX
Imagine being an Olympic gold medalist. An X-games sensation. Winning several awards thirteen years in a row. And then having it all fall away because some stranger decided to drink and drive.
The worst part...I wasn’t ready for my life to change so radically. I knew someday it’d all come to an end. There’s always an expiration date for athletes. You can only play a sport until a certain age.
Unless it’s golf.
In some cultures, they say you know when you’re going to die. At least, your soul knows it. It’s a feeling. Your gut screams when the end is near. It’s what many of us know as the sixth sense, the ability to perceive and even feel when your time on earth is over. But mine wasn’t.
During those moments when I was being rammed by a semi, I knew it wasn’t my time. But part of my life was over, and what made everything worse was the fact that there was nothing I could do to stop it. Everything was already in motion.
The world didn’t end.
I didn’t die.
But my entire world imploded.
I loved my life. I lived to compete. To win. Skiing was my first love. Snowboarding was my passion, and when I couldn’t find a mountain with fresh powder, I surfed.
As long as I can remember, I loved the rush of adrenaline running through my veins whenever I rushed down the slopes. I thrived in the world of extreme sports.
Not to be a show-off, but according to World Snowboarders magazine, I’m still one of the ten most influential snowboarders of the last twenty years. I was a hero to many—for some I still am. Others just think of me as a jock.
Snowboarding and skiing aren’t just about the speed.
It’s a physical and mental challenge. There’s a lot more to stepping into a pair of skis or onto a snowboard: it requires concentration, practice, and determination.
You can’t second-guess yourself. The minute you take off, you have to see everything through.
At thirty-one, I was on top of the world. Everything I achieved was beyond my wildest dreams.
Like many great stories though, things come to an end. The night of the crash, I was going to celebrate the end of the season. It was the best season of my life.
The morning of the accident, Mom asked when I’d be hanging up my snowboard.
“I’ll retire when I die,” I answered.
Indeed, the biggest irony.
It wasn’t just an accident as the papers reported it. It was a life-changing moment.
I went from being at the top of my game to a man fighting for his life. As my car spun out of control, my life played like a movie in fast forward.
Clearly, I had done a lot. In those seconds, I realized I had lived plenty but not fully. There’s a difference, and just as I knew I wasn’t going to die, I also knew a part of me was missing.
There were holes in my life story, and I didn't know if I’d be able to fill them. Because if I were to die that night, I don’t think I’d like what was left of me or my legacy. During the accident, I thought, if this was it, I’d hate the way everything ended.
In mere seconds after the impact, I became a survivor who might never walk again. Another irony was Samantha, my live-in girlfriend, left me. She wasn’t strong enough for my new reality.
The accident changed me. I had to grow a thick skin for my own sake, and I sustained one too many losses. It took a miracle, the best orthopedic surgeon, and all my willpower to walk again. I went from living the dream to facing a reality that left me scared, anxious, and nauseous.
Sometimes, fate has a way of sneaking up and fucking us seven ways to Sunday. The cocoon I lived in for years suddenly broke, and my wings were damaged, and there was no chance I could ever fly again.
Denying that my future had changed didn’t change the truth.
But you know that saying, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
So, don’t feel sorry for me and don’t judge me for changing.
At thirty-four, I’m on top of the world again.
I’m challenging myself. I found a new game.
There are no more competitions or gold medals for me.
Still, I work hard and play harder and never go out with the same woman twice.
Sex…well, that’s a story I’m not allowed to tell.
Don’t hate me, either. I just do what’s necessary for survival. The world is a jungle. Either eat or be eaten. It’s simple.
My biggest challenge is my body. There’s always a small twinge, a bit of soreness, the random pain that brings the memories of everything I lost. I ride it out, embrace it, ignore it, and push through it until I’m back to normal.
Today is just like every Tuesday, which means I could use a little pick me up. The X-Games happen this upcoming weekend. The world of sports will focus in Aspen. I was invited by not one, but several, television channels to be a commentator during the event.
June, my sister, insists I should take those gigs. Maybe even becoming a key media commentator, but she doesn’t get it. Watching just reminds me of what I can’t do. I’m happy with designing and producing snowboards and surfboards.
When I arrive at my place, I grunt. June’s car is parked in the visitor’s spot.
Most days, I love that my sister is my manager.
Except when she takes management to the extreme and instead of my professional career, she tries to manage my life.
Finding her at my studio organizing my place isn’t cool.
“Aren’t you retired?” I ask her fiancé, Sterling. “Why is she here?”
He shrugs and shoves his hands inside his pockets. “She has a few loose ends to tie.”
“Leave Sterling out of this,” she orders.
Her fiancé is cool. I like him. He’s also whipped.
“Why don’t you guys go back to Colorado and leave me the hell alone?”
“You’re in a mood,” June says.
“What are you doing here?” I look around my place and ask, “Other than organizing my place, of course?”
She taps the papers on my tidy desk. Fuck, it’s going to take me forever to find where she put my bills. “This week you have two events. One is in Los Angeles and the other one in New York.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“These aren’t optional,” she says. “There are also a couple of charities asking for your support. Two are questionable; the rest are up to you. Once you go through the list, let me know how you want to proceed.”
Rubbing my temples, I stare at her and then the pile of stuff I have to do. “I hate paperwork.”
She shrugs. “You asked to be more involved.”
“Shouldn’t you be in Vegas, eloping? The children are going to pop out before you say I do.” I look at Sterling, who actually laughs.
She rubs her belly and smiles. I grunt. Look, I have nothing against babies or pregnancies before marriage; I just can’t think of my little sister pregnant and engaged.
“We aren’t eloping,” she says. “Just make sure you pencil me in for the second half of February.”
That’s code for ‘I’m going to ambush you but not yet.’
Since we’re talking about her, I might as well find out what’s in store for me. “Are you moving to Colorado with the rest of the family?”
It all started with Jackson, my eldest brother. After his divorce, he moved out to Denver. He said it was best for his company. Before my accident, Mom hoped he’d come back to California. But then he met the woman of his dreams.
Jason, who’s a couple of years older than me, followed right behind. First, he moved to Denver, then he too found the girl. I’ve toyed with the idea of moving closer to them. June and the shop were the reasons I kept hesitating, but now that she’s leaving...I’m still not sure.
“We’re still undecided...who knows,” she answers as she looks at Sterling, who takes her into his arms and kisses her.
I clear my throat. “Seriously, keep your PDA away from me. You two make me sick with all that fucking sweetness.”
June grabs a manila envelope. “Can you do something for me?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope, start writing things down because I have a long list.”
I pull out my phone and as I tap to find the notes app, several alarms begin to sound inside my head.
“No,” I say, without hesitation.
“You haven’t even heard what I’m going to ask you to do.”
But I do. I know the date better than she does. Next week, she wants me to do it all over again. “Your list includes delivering shit to Lucifer’s girlfriend, and the answer is no.”
Sterling cocks an eyebrow. “Who is Lucifer’s girlfriend?”
June waves her hand. “Hannah, and she’s Lucifer’s spawn.”
I turn to Sterling, who is lost in the conversation. “Your fiancée likes to play with Hannah’s name, which, if you ask me is stupid.” My attention shifts to June. “I’m not going to do it. She’s your best friend. Not mine.”
“Give me one good reason why you won’t do it,” June says, challenging me.
“She hates my guts,” I remind her.
There are other reasons, but June doesn’t need to know them. Being close to Hannah is just not something I want to do in the foreseeable future.
Maybe never. That’s a lie, but if I repeat it enough times, it might come true.
“Fine, let’s go through the list, and we’ll circle back to Hannah later.”
She’s not going to take no for an answer. Will there ever be a day that I won’t say yes to my sisters?