She nods. “Because Knox doesn’t fall. He’s a real pro.”
“That’s Knox?” I ask in surprise, staring wide-eyed at his quick silhouette.
“Yep.”
The crowd around us cheers and shouts when he comes to a stop in the middle of the slope before sliding down toward us so that we can see how his speeding board whirls the snow into the air.
“He’s good, right?”
Gwen nods. “One of the best. Aspen loves him. But he wasn’t always the snowboarder type. In high school, he was the star hockey player. We all thought that, after school, he’d take up his scholarship in Canada.”
“Oh.” In my head the images from this morning show back up. Knox at the frozen lake, how he was crying without really being able to. His pained expression has burned itself into my mind. “What happened?”
She bites her lower lip. Gwen’s brown eyes are watching Knox who is now almost next to us. The butter-yellow reflection of the spotlights lights up her pupils. “No one really knows. After his mom died, it was like he was someone else. The unofficial hypothesis in Aspen is that he just wasn’t able to leave his dad alone. And that he wanted to take away some of his pain by switching sports.” Her eyes dart briefly to mine. “Back then, his father was a snowboarder, you see. Knox probably wanted to give him something he could focus on. But,” Gwen shrugs, “none of us really knows.”
I bury my hands into my jacket pockets and look toward him. His board stops before the barrier, and the crowd around us breaks into loud applause. Girls are screeching his name.
Knox slides his protective eyewear over his helmet and gives his audience a wide smile. Then he bends over to undo the bindings from his feet. When he is back upright, his eyes meet mine. Inside Ibrace myself for the condescending look he shot me yesterday, but it doesn’t come.
At the next blink of an eye, he’s already turned his back on me.
8
Would Like to Meet You When the Lights Go Off
Paisley
Aria’s bed is crying out for me. I can hear it all the way out here on Aspen’s streets. And my legs are calling back. The way they need each other is almost like a back-and-forth. But when Gwen dropped me off in front of the B&B, I suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to explore the little town.
A bell begins to toll. It’s not a particularly tall bell tower, which is why it fits the center of town like a charm. There are a few ornate cast-iron benches around, painted white. Like the tree trunks and streetlamps, they, too, are wrapped with string lights.
I stuff my hands into my pockets, look up to the top of the bell tower, and slowly take a spin in order to let Aspen’s breathtaking scenery work its magic on me. It’s just a small town; nevertheless, it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. There’s magic in the air.
A lengthy snort interrupts my astonished state. It comes from the other side of the street, not far from Kate’s Diner. And when I discover the source of the sound, despite the bitter cold, a warm feeling spreads through my heart.
A brown-spotted Irish Cob with a blond mane is looking over at me. The horse is wearing a brown leather halter and a harnessattached to a white carriage. It has two upholstered seats beneath its canopy and the wheels are huge; the ones in back are bigger than the front. It must be historical. I have a slight feeling of having been transported back to the nineteenth century.
I tug on my cap and cross the street. Reaching the horse, I carefully stretch out my hand and allow it to be sniffed. “Well? What’s your name then?” I delicately stroke the bridge of its nose down to its soft nostrils. It neighs again before opening its lips and nibbling at my gloves. “That doesn’t taste any good. In a second you’ll have a mouthful of cotton.”
“Oh no!” I suddenly hear someone calling out behind me. “Step back, quick!”
I turn around and as I see the stocky older man hurrying over to me, his bushy eyebrows covering half of his forehead, it becomes clear that he’s referring to me. He’s wearing a vest over his checkered shirt. When he comes to a stop in front of me, he gasps for breath. His lungs are whistling. “Get away from Sally,” he snorts, reaches out, and pushes me two steps back. “She’s on a low-carb diet.”
“Low-carb?”
The man nods. “I was a little too kind with her food. Now Sally weighs a few pounds too many, and I’ve got to put her on a diet. But since having reduced her food, she wants to eat anything that doesn’t look like a carrot.”
I stare at the man. “You mean, Sally wants to eatme?”
He nods again. His expression is completely serious. “That’s exactly right.”
I don’t know what I should say. My eyes move from him to the horse—which is just standing there calmly, watching us—and back again. The guy probably doesn’t have all his marbles anymore. Or, well, none at all.
“Well, I mean… I’m still here, right? If I was as interesting to your horse as you believe, she would’ve pounced on me a long time ago.”
My odd companion pulls a thoughtful face and strokes his stubble while observing his horse and me intensively. Eventually he nods, as if having come to a decision. “It’s got to do with you. You’re too skinny. There’s not enough there for Sally.”
Got it. They’re all gone.
