Still, I think he remains frustrated with his punishment. There is nothing I can do to lessen his pain, to soothe his anger, except stay patient. He has a lot of mental recovery to work on in addition to his physical recovery, and the only thing I can do to help is show him that he’s safe here.
Gaby’s demand still lingers in the back of my mind. I want to help Diego unwind and have fun. I want to make the clouds go away and find the electric guy I once couldn’t stop thinking about. I want to drag him out of the shadows and make him bask in the light he deserves.
It all starts now.
The basket I carry back to the front of the store is full of pairs of goggles.
Diego glances from my hands to my eyes and then back down to the items I lay in front of him. “Alright, boss. What do you want me to do?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
DIEGO
Coach Wilson made me promise to make an effort. Said effort includes not lying to Dr Ellis – because those two fuckers have, somehow, managed to see right through me – be good to the Bradfords, and stay patient. With the frequent updates Joe and Dr Ellis give him, he understands only too well that I’m bored out of my mind, and that it’s been hard to be in this environment, which only reminds me of my passion.
Here’s the thing, though: the only way to get out of here is by keeping the truth to myself. If I keep on lying to everyone, I’ll be back on the slopes in no time. Once I stop feeling the tight pull in my leg, I’ll ask Dr Ellis to let me go back to Utah.
I’ve been here for almost two weeks. Some days are tolerable, and some days are utter shit. So far, I think assisting Alara with the skiing lessons at the resort has been the sweetest form of torture. I can’t help but look at the snowboarders and long to ride with them. I can’t help but feel that pull that drags me to the snow park, where all I want to do is freestyle on the rails and boxes.
There isn’t a single day where I don’t hate myself for beingreckless. There isn’t a day where I don’t resentfully stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I’m stupid.
Careless.
Irresponsible.
I let the power get to my head. I let my confidence get the best of me, and look where it got me.
Every day, I wake up and hope for the agony to subside. I’m not talking about my physical pain, but rather the one I’ve been feeling clinging deep inside my chest ever since I was sent back home – guilt. Frankly, I’m still angry and upset with Coach for sending me to the doghouse. But I’m also annoyingly mad at myself. I consistently, continuously blame myself for putting everything on the line. Everything hurts – mostly my head, because of how overpowering and overwhelming my thoughts are. I can’t stop wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been this careless.
I try to be as optimistic as I can, but how positive can you feel when everything around you reminds you of what you’ve lost?
Admittedly, working at Rock Snow and assisting with the skiing lessons have been a tolerable distraction. When I’m not alone and lost in my head, the pain seems to evaporate.
Last night, I went to the bar with Jordan. He occasionally shows up at Rock Snow to chat with his parents and sister, but he’s been so busy that I haven’t seen much of him since I came back. I figured it would be nice to catch up with him for a beer or two. Okay, it was much more than two beers, but it was really nice to spend the evening with him.
Jordan is someone I genuinely admire. He’s hard-working and ambitious, and I love seeing him thrive with what he’s doing. We didn’t talk much about his athleisure line, but I had a feeling he was in need of an evening where he could disconnect and think of something else. It made me wonder if Alara was astenacious in her work too. And then it made me wonder why I wondered about his sister.
At one point during the night, three guys we went to high school with joined us.
When I got back home several hours later, the first thought that crossed my mind was that being home isn’t so terrible after all.
I still can’t figure out if it’s a bad thing or not, though.
Yesterday morning, Dr Ellis gave me his approval to start working out again, but I have to go easy. No weights allowed, and no running because my knee is still the biggest problem.
My breaths sharpen as I count my seventy-sixth push-up. A bead of sweat trickles down the bridge of my nose, and I keep my gaze focused on a spot on the floor of my room.
Fuck. There’s something satisfying in feeling the burn in my muscles and getting back in shape.
Feels good to let go of my frustration.
Feels good to know I’m already progressing.
Feels good to think about something else other than the dull ache that’s taken over my senses – even if it’s just for a few minutes.
I’m not going to give up on my dream. I’m not going to lose hope. I’m not going to fail Coach and my team and my family.
