Chapter 36
JETT
Today is going to be fucking great.
It’s the day of the World Cup qualifier. Whistler is an incredible mountain to ski, there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and I’m first up, which means I’ll get to make the first tracks in the freshly groomed snow.
Not to mention, the photo Poppy sent me is seared on the inside of my eyelids. The image of her in that black lace bra, her cheeks flushed, lips pink and bitten, sends testosterone coursing through my veins. Excitement hums under my skin. I’m back in my element.
I’m amped up.
I pull my phone out of the breast pocket of my parka.
Normally I don’t ride with my phone on me, I’ve lost or broken a few too many that way.
But I promised Poppy last night that I’d text her before my event and send her a picture immediately after finishing.
Before I have a chance to type out a message to her, one comes through.
POPPY
Good luck today! Cordelia and I are watching and cheering you on! XO
My heart does a backflip at the way she’s signed off the message, but something snags in my mind.
What are you doing watching from home and not the café? You love working Sundays. They’re your busiest days.
I can hear Dan trying to get my attention as I wait for a reply, chewing my bottom lip. One doesn’t come, and now Dan’s tone is getting increasingly frantic, so I slide my phone back into my jacket pocket.
“You’re almost up,” Dan says, prepping my skis, rubbing a solid wax bar up and down the underside so nothing impedes my speed. “Remember what we talked about. Don’t be a shit head out there.”
I flash him my infamous cheeky grin and a wink.
“Disappointment is a result of setting expectations too high. You should know that by now,” I retort.
Dan shakes his head and chuckles before walking over to me and handing me my skis. He puts a heavy hand on my shoulder, and his expression turns serious.
“I want to see you win the whole damn thing, son.”
A lump catches in my throat at his choice in words. Son. I always knew that deep down Dan cared about me, and on some level I always saw him as a father-figure, but the word resonates within me. That he cares enough to care what I do, about the choices I make.
“Just play it safe, like we talked about.”
I nod, my mouth forming a tight line to keep me from saying what I want to. If Dan knows me at all, he’d know that playing it safe is not my default setting. When you’re trying to achieve the things I want to—winning the World Cup—playing it safe is not the way to do it.
“I’m all in,” I answer, hoping that my answer is enough to satisfy him before I place my skis at the starting gate and clip into my bindings.
I can hear the announcers, their words slightly muffled in the microphones, but I know well enough to know they’re gearing up for the buzzer to sound. I turn back to Dan and flash him another wink.
“Later, losers.”
The buzzer sounds a second later and I’m off, flying down the hill. I feel good. My body is loose but controlled, my mind is calm and focused. Except for the niggling thought that something is up with Poppy.
I brush it off as I near the jump.
My nerves are buzzing within me, rattling around in my gut, because I’ve decided to pull out the big guns. I let out a slow exhale, readying myself for the Big Earner.
It’s against Dan’s will, but my motto has always been “ask for forgiveness, not permission.” And I would never be able to live with myself if I don’t give this everything I have.
The Big Earner was almost renamed the Career Ruiner last year, and it could live up to it this time around. But my knee feels good today, so I’m hoping it holds up.
This jump is a lot bigger than the last one, and I know the air I’m going to get will give me the room I need to do this trick. I’ve only practiced it a few times last year, having been too nervous to try it again since my injury. But here goes nothing.
This trick requires focus, speed, momentum, all of which I have in this very moment.
My skis fly off the end of the incline and I’m airborne. Then, the weightlessness hits, and all the nerves causing my mind to race still, my thoughts going quiet. And I initiate the Big Earner, twisting myself around both vertically and horizontally.
The whole world is silent for a few seconds, and then I hear the announcer in the back ground.
This is it folks, he’s going for it. The trick that cost him his career. And there’s one, two, three turns…
And like the last time, the world rights itself and comes up to meet my skis, and they land with a perfect soft thud in the snow.
I hear the announcer before I realize what just happened.
He did it! Aerial skiing history has been made here today. Jett Landry has started off the day with a strong start. He has a guaranteed place at the World Cup next week…
I fly past the big red blow-up arch marking the end of the run, and my eyes immediately scan the crowd of people at the bottom waiting for me.
I’ve just won the qualifier, I’ve secured my place at the World Cup in Zermatt, and yet there’s a sinking disappointment as I remember that Poppy isn’t here this time. That she won’t be running over to give me one of her kisses that I’ve come to look forward to so much.
Then I remember my promise to her, that I’d send her a celebratory selfie once I win.
She made sure that it was when I win, she was so confident, so sure of me.
I quickly pull out my phone to snap the photo, but I see the response to my text that came in while I was on the hill, followed by another one.
POPPY
Needed a couch day today, having a flare. I did make use of the vibrator again.
You were incredible out there!!!!! I can’t believe I missed out on this one. I’m so proud of you.
My heart drops, my mind unable to think past the fact that she’s having a flare, and I can’t be there for her. It’s one thing to miss her at the end of my run today. Having someone here to celebrate me has become something I didn’t know I needed.
But even more than that? Being able to care for someone else—caring for Poppy—has completely replaced any desire I have to have the spotlight on me.
I just want to be there for her.
Mark jogs over to me and picks up my skis as I unclip my bindings, and I trudge as quickly as I can through the snow over to Brooke. She’s on her phone, likely making arrangements for whatever public appearances she wants me to do after the event.
As I near her, she looks up at me, and her eyes widen at the intense and determined look on my face. She quickly replaces it with a smile as her eyes dart over to the cameras taking photos of me.
“The reporters are waiting to get a word with you, Jett.” She points to a woman waiting with a microphone, a cameraman hanging out behind her.
“I don’t care,” I cut her off. “I need you to cancel the press conferences and get me the first flight back to Heartwood.”
“Jett,” Brooke protests, and I flash her a glare. “Nuclear is not going to be happy. These press conferences are the one thing they have to try and garner some public support for you.”
“What did I say, Brooke?” I snap, now, shaking my head as I try to school myself. I’m not this person, but something instinctual has taken over me. “First flight out.”