CHAPTER 43
lukas
72 Hours Post Wipe-Out
Zara was stuckto my side.
Nothing I said or did assured her enough to feel comfortable leaving. She was tucked against my side in my bed, and as much as the weight of her caused my beat up and bruised body to ache, I couldn’t bring myself to wake her up.
“How are you feeling?”
I winced as I turned my head to face Petyr. For as much as he rode my ass, he cared about me. He’d also barely left my side. He had ridden to the hospital with me, kept Zara informed while the Bryant’s looked out for her, and he’d been in my room pretty much the last two days, only really leaving for sleep. It might’ve been a bit overkill, but I didn’t say anything.
“I’ve been better,” I croaked.
It had been brutal—the wipeout. I felt my ski hit the ice wrong, and it was out from under me before I could try and correct it. I’ve botched runs before, but this was the worst. Even in the midst of it happening, I’ve been terrified. I knew it was bad, that it could mean the end of it all.
When I’d finally come to, I’d braced myself for the career ending speech. Yet somehow, apart from the scrapes and bruises, the worst I did was sprain my wrist and tweak my knee. Both are pretty easy to recover from with rest and some light physical therapy. I wasn’t qualifying for the Olympic Team this time, but I would get another chance.
“But it could have been worse.”
Petyr nodded, his expression was worried—like he wanted to believe me, but also worried that the doctors had been wrong.
I definitely looked terrible.
My helmet had done its job in protecting my head, but my goggles had jammed so hard into my face, I had a faint bruise outline around my eyes. Scrapes also lined my chin and cheek, my lip was a little bit swollen but not busted. My wrist was the most painful thing, but it was wrapped tight and the pain meds were helping. Every part of me ached and was splotched with black and blue, but I was lucky that wipeout hadn’t been career ending. I’ve seen others go out for good, for less.
“I’m glad you’re okay, all things considered,” he said.
I shifted slightly in the bed, my legs brushing against the soft sheets.
My movements jostled Zara and she woke with a start, panic in her eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked, her hands flapping about, not sure where her touch would hurt less.
It was ironic since she’d just been passed out, plastered to my side. I gave her a tight, painfilled smile and grabbed her hand with my still usable one.
“I’m okay. Sore, but okay.”
She visibly relaxed—all the tension fled her body and she sagged back to the bed. She’d spent over an hour on the phone with mom and dad—they’d been watching the live airing of the race, and had freaked out. She’d convinced them that they didn’t need to come home early, that she and Petyr had me well inhand. That they should finish up their work and then come home when they were scheduled to.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Petyr asked.
I sucked in a breath and held it for a moment, trying to gauge his energy. One of my first thoughts had been dread of him reaming me out for fucking up. I wasn’t sure if he was about to blame me for being distracted, or if he felt responsible for riding my ass harder than normal. I was probably also to blame since I’d definitely gone overboard last week. I’d been trying to distract myself from Aimee.
Oh, fuck.
“Aimee, how is she?”
Panic rose in my chest, and I tried to force myself up and out of the bed. But both Zara and Petyr held me down.
“No, I need to go see her. You don’t understand.”
“I know all about Aimee Bryant and the accident,” Petyr said.
“Then, you know why I need to go see her,” I said, trying again to get up, only to be pushed back down.
My wrist and knee were bothering me again—moving hadn’t helped.
“If I can’t go to her, then please bring her here.”
