Chapter 49 Poppy
POPPY
My heart is bursting with pride.
For Jett and his win, but also for me. For us.
For everything we’ve overcome to be standing here today.
I could have taken the safe option, stayed home and watched him win the Big Air World Cup from the comfort of the café and my apartment.
I might have waited for Jett to come back into town to confess my feelings for him, but somehow that didn’t seem like enough.
The lengths Jett has gone to show up for me even while working toward the most important, and most difficult milestone in his skiing career, I had to be here for him, too. To celebrate his accomplishments the way he celebrates mine.
Somehow, our marriage has turned an arrogant playboy, into a kindhearted, selfless partner.
Deep down, I think Jett always was, he just needed to remember who he was beneath the mask he wore for the public. The man he is deep down inside, the version of himself he tried so hard to protect from getting hurt.
I thought marrying Jett was a crazy idea, how could I have ever predicted that we’d be here? How could I have ever guessed I’d be so madly in love with my husband?
We don’t have much time to celebrate together, before we’re being whisked away, off the ski hill toward the press tent. Jett’s arm remains snug around my shoulders, keeping me and Cordelia nestled in beside him.
He only lets us go when we get into the tent, and he takes his seat in front of the two dozen reporters, all eager to ask him about his win today. But not without giving my hand a gentle squeeze and planting a kiss on my cheek first. Cheeks that are now hurting from smiling so big, so proud.
Luckily Dan is sitting up there with him, controlling the frenzied sports reporters, and fielding questions. He points to the tall, blonde woman I’ve seen at some of Jett’s other events.
“Congratulations on being the Big Air World Cup Champion, Jett,” she starts.
Jett gives her a grateful nod.
“Tell us what was going through your head when you landed the winning jump?” She asks, and a murmur ripples through the room in anticipation of Jett’s answer. I’m sure by now they all expect a cocky answer from him, something like of course I was going to win.
But Jett’s expression says something different today, something I can’t quite place. It’s the way his mouth is working, rather than sliding into his usual lopsided grin. The way his eyes flicked down to his hands, folded on the table. It was a split second, but I caught it.
“Sarah,” Jett answers, looking the reporter in the eyes before he answers her question.
The room is already stunned into silence at Jett addressing her by her name.
“I’m going to be honest with you. The only thing going through my mind was how fucking grateful I am to be here.
And for every single person who worked their asses off to get me here.
My coach—” Jett reaches over and pats Dan between the shoulder blades, and if my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me, I’d swear the man has tears in his eyes— “my athletic therapist, my publicist, but most of all, my girls.”
Jett’s gaze flicks over to me and Cordelia, but snaps back to the rest of the room as Dan points to the next reporter, waiting to ask their questions.
“Will you be taking some time off now to do more rehab on your knee, or are you headed straight into training for next season?”
Jett tilts his head, considering how he wants to answer the question, and I can’t figure out why. Of course he’s going in training, rehab, whatever he needs to do to prepare for next season. It might be the easiest question he answers all day.
“Fuck it,” he says. “No, I won’t be doing either of those things.”
The air gets forced out of my lungs, a sudden pressure squeezing my chest like a tight band. No? It seems the rest of the room is as shocked as I am, including Dan. He’s turned in his seat, looking at Jett as if he’s a ghost. His face has suddenly paled.
“I suffered what should have been a career ending injury last season. Back then, Dan here would’ve had to drag me kicking and screaming off the hill before I’d give up.
It just wasn’t time to quit. I still had a World Cup to win, and I still believed skiing to be the only important thing in my life.
The only thing that could never hurt me.
It might have broken my body, but I refused to let it break my heart, my spirit.
But I have other things that fulfill me now in a way I never knew possible, and I’m ready.
I’m ready to take off the mask and hang up my skis. ”
The room goes silent, a solemn heaviness hanging in the air.
But the shock of his announcement has worn off. His answer settles within me like he’s just wrapped me in a heavy warm blanket. I thought I was proud of Jett for winning the cup, but it’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling now. Because Jett Landry has let the world see him, wounds and all.
And despite what anyone is going to say about his decision today, he’s following his heart.
“What’s next then?” The same reporter asks, interrupting the quiet in the tent.
“I think I’m ready to go back to Heartwood, my hometown, and spend a little time with my wife,” he answers, and now he looks over at me and holds my stare. His chestnut eyes sparkle with mischief, and his expression shifts into something less serious, that cheeky grin gracing his kissable lips.
His look alone makes my cheeks burn, and my skin prickle with excitement, anticipation.
“And who knows? Maybe I’ll think about coaching.”