“I have at least another two hours of practice., Can she hang out with you guys until then?” I asked, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
“Of course. Mom loves having her around. She’s okay, Lukas. You know your sister idolizes mine. I don’t think she was ready to see what she did. I wish I could go back in time and just not call you her boyfriend,” he said.
It twinged knowing that that was what set her off. I swallowed the hard lump in my throat, and ran a hand over my mouth. I had a feeling this all stemmed from that stupid fucking article and the comments it generated. I hated that those fuckers from before had leaked the story‘Aimee Bryant Moving On? The Figure Skater’s Love Life After Asher Leland - Fair or Not?’
I hadn’t even been named, so I shared in none of the notoriety. The piece was in some online rag that published nothing but insubstantial gossip fluff pieces that allowed people online to be caustic and terrible anonymously in the comments.
“Okay, just don’t let either Zara or Aimee be alone tonight.”
Who the fuck was I? Truly?
I didn’t know the first thing about how to navigate this kind of trauma, but the words just kept flowing.
“Just be there for her…I think that we pushed too hard and too fast and the guilt is eating her alive. Orion—she’ll probably hate me for saying this—but she feels so much guilt over that day. And for as much as she’s trying to move on, I think it still overwhelms her.”
I wondered that with everything Aimee went through and got help for—if the same could be said for her parents and her brother. When the accident happened, there was a moment when no one knew what the outcome was. The music had kept playing, but the rest of the arena had fallen into absolute silence. The concern mixed with sheer terror…I couldn’t even make sense of my own emotions that day, so I couldn’t imagine how her family felt…the not knowing. The seconds felt like minutes and hours until there was movement on the ice. How no one knew how bad it was.
“Orion?” I asked, clearing my throat.
“I don’t…” he paused. “I don’t know how to help her.”
His voice was so broken.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“She’s my little sister. And I thought she was finally coming back to her old self.”
“What happened to her—that changed her soul deep,” I said, “She lost who she was and the person she thought she’d spend forever with.” I took a deep breath.
I’d gladly gotten lost in the haze that was Aimee Bryant. Hot, fast, feisty and brilliant—and I didn’t think anything of what jumping in so fully would entail—how it would affect either of us. I’d wanted to be near her forso longand she was finally here, finally in front of me, finally able to know who I was. I ran a hand over my face. God, maybe I was a bit stalkerish. I fell for a girl, and was insanely impressed and obsessed with her. I occupied her space until she fell in love with me and wanted to be near me. A terrible realization started to dawn on me, and I rubbed at the ache in my chest.
I cleared my throat. “Check in with her. Talk to her. Get to know who she is now,” I said, “Thanks for taking care of Zara. I’ll check in when I’m done training. But I have to go.”
I closed my eyes and hung up as he said bye, stuffing my phone into my pocket. I would never stop fighting for Aimee—I loved her and had loved her for a really long time. But maybe…maybe—I didn’t want to think aboutthe maybe. It hurt too much.
I opened my eyes, and let out a sigh.
Petyr opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but I waved him off. I’d wasted enough of his time recently and I had training to do. My heart felt like a lead weight in my chest, so I tried to focus. The race was in two weeks and it would determine whether or not I qualified for the spot on the next Men’s U.S. Olympics Team.
I pulled my goggles back over my eyes, yanking my gloves back on.
I loved her.
I knew that much, but I’d be lying to myself if I didn't. I was terrified that I would constantly be fighting against Aimee’s ghost of a boy who broke her heart…and I would have to decide if that was a fight I should take on.
So for right now, I shut everything out except for Petyr’s voice in my ear and skiing. Everything else could wait until practice was over. I felt the snow under my skis, listened to the sound of their edges cutting into the slope and I focused on running the course as smoothly and quickly as possible. I got lost in the cold air whipping past, the clouds intermittently blocking out the sun—it was me and the mountain.
“Skiers are known to wipe out on the top of the second rise coming up to the first flags, it’s icy and slick—it’s worth eating a second or two of time if it means you finish cleanly.”
I nodded and readied myself to go again.
I listened to the beeps count down and then I pushed off, timing it just shy of perfect and then everything else eddied from my head, and I was a constant left, right, left, right.
I saw the rise Petyr warned me about and I cut my speed just a fraction and still felt the skid, but seconds later I finished clean and Petyr called me back to the top.
“Before you go, ski down it again, but truly get a feel for it, this run isn’t about time, you need to know the course, truly feel it, know it inside and out.”
I inhaled deeply and nodded. This was something he’d had me doing for years. Intermingled with the speed runs, were these slower ones. For years, I’d been skeptical about them, but when he had me skiing them blindfolded slowly, skiing them backwards—I hated to say it worked. It was all muscle memory and come race day, the nerves were just never there. I could ski cleanly and quickly.
