Finn glanced toward the ramp, easily spotting Sam. Her jaw was tight, her expression unreadable. Finn’s heart dropped. To anyone else it looked as if she was preparing hard, but he knew her too well. She was good at hiding her feelings, but that tension in her posture was giving her away and would mess her up if she didn’t loosen up. Sam stood back as Harper came forward. Gritting his teeth, Finn turned his attention to the ramp as Harper set off. Her fearless style had made her a crowd favorite, and she didn’t disappoint. She launched into a massive frontside triple cork 1440, holding the grab longer than anyone else had dared. Finn couldn’t help but be impressed as she landed with the faintest wobble, straightened out and skidded to a celebratory stop.
But Gabriel’s commentary made Finn press his lips together. He hoped Sam wasn’t paying any attention to it. “Harper Reynolds, Canada’s golden girl, may have struck gold with that fearless display of dexterity and skill. She’s going to be a tough one to beat.” Finn watched as Harper’s score pushed Becky down into second place. He crossed his fingers.Come on, Sam, you can do this! Show them what you’ve got.
Maya sidled up to him, her phone in her hand recording his expression as Sam stepped forward to the top of the ramp, her fingers on the chin strap of her helmet. She looked composed, but he’d seen the way her eyes had darted around the crowd just now. She’d never done that before. Gentlypushing Maya aside, Finn moved to the barrier, his eyes never leaving Sam. He pulled his orange beanie on. If she saw it, she might feel better.
“Let’s go, Sam,” he murmured, willing her to get it together.
Then she dropped in. Her approach looked smooth, but as she reached the ramp’s edge, Finn saw it—that split-second hesitation. She still went for the trick, a backside double cork 1260, her grab clean, tight, but her rotation was just a fraction too slow. She landed with too much weight on her back foot, the board slipping slightly. Her hand shot out, dragged in the snow to keep her balance. The crowd gasped. Finn gripped the barrier, his bare hands white and cold. Sam recovered quickly and rode the rest of the way, but the stumble was impossible to miss. It would cost her.
Gabriel, at least, sounded disappointed. “Ohhhh, a valiant effort from Samantha Harrington, but that landing, it’s going to hurt her score. If she’d landed cleanly, we might have been looking at a new leader on the scoreboard.” Finn closed his eyes. Gabriel’s analysis was right.
He opened his eyes, his heart racing. Sam skidded to a stop and yanked off her helmet, her chest heaving as she watched the scoreboard. Finn didn’t need to see the numbers to know the truth, but they flashed in front of him regardless. Fourth. Gabriel’s now flat commentary confirmed it: “With a clean 1260, she’d likely have topped Harper Reynolds’ 1440 and taken gold. An incredible run, but such bad luck. That tiny mistake has cost Samantha Harrington the podium.”
Finn rubbed his face, wishing he could turn back time. She’d been so close—so damn close. If she’d only landed thattrick—she’d not only be on the podium, she’d be on the top of it—and all her dreams would have come true. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She stood frozen, staring at the board as if willing it to change until the podium was set up right in front of her. The winners were clapping each other’s backs, hugging and cheering. Sam stared. Her shoulders slumped, and she hurried away, swinging her helmet as if nothing mattered, as if her heart hadn’t been shattered.
“Sam!” he called out as she stormed toward the break in the barrier, not even looking left or right as the medalists took their places on the podium. She was being rude—no one left until the medals had been awarded. “Sam!” he called again, but she barely glanced at him. Her face was hard and blank, but he could see beneath the surface. She was destroyed. She didn’t stop or look at him again. He dragged his beanie from his head and pushed it into his pocket.
The crowd cheered as Becky received the silver medal and Harper the gold. Finn didn’t care. He turned away as Becky shook her champagne bottle and sprayed it everywhere. All he wanted was to find Sam and tell her it didn’t matter, that everything would be okay. If she’d listen to him. If only he could think of something to say that would make things right. His legs moved before his mind could catch up, following Sam out of the athletes’ area. She was hurting; he knew she was, and she shouldn’t be alone right now.
He spotted her just beyond the crowd, walking fast, her head down. Her shoulders had risen up to her ears again and each step was sharp and deliberate. No one was getting in her way as she left the scene.
“Sam!” he called, picking up his pace.
She didn’t stop, didn’t even look back.
“Damn it, Sam!” he muttered under his breath as he broke into a jog. She glanced back and saw him but turned away and kept on walking. Jogging, he finally caught up with her as she rounded the corner to the street.
“Hey!” He touched her arm gently, slightly out of breath. His chest ached as he saw the dark and teary expression on her face. “You always storm off in the middle of a medal ceremony?”
She rolled her eyes and didn’t answer. Just kept walking, her hands jammed deep into her pockets, her head down as if watching her boots crunching over the snow was the most interesting hobby in the world. The silence between them was strange. She’d never been so closed off, so unreachable—not with him.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, quieter. “I just didn’t want you to be alone.”
She paused. Her mouth pressed together even more tightly. His heart ached for her disappointment. His head whirred with what to say to her, but all he could think of was that she should have had it today—she should’ve taken that gold. She’d gone for it, but she’d pulled back as if someone had said something to her midair. Christ, she’d been so goddamn close. Why had she done that—pulled back like that? He knew she had it in her—he’d seen her pull off that trick before. He was gutted for her.
They turned a corner, and she glanced up. “Look, a bar. You buying?”
“Always,” he said. It came out too fast. He held open the door for her, eager to do something to help. She wentin, no thank you, no come on, hurry up. Nothing. She was like a zombie.
The bar was warm, and wood-paneled. Firelight flickered and low conversation filled the air. Finn glanced around, relieved that it seemed that there was no press in the place.
“Booth or barstool?” Sam shrugged her jacket off with the kind of fluid precision she should’ve used on the run.
“Booth.” Finn nodded toward a quiet space near the fire. He watched her go, taking in the terse, tight line of her back as she walked away. She didn’t seem to want him around. Had he made a mistake by following her? She seemed to want to be alone.
At the bar he ordered two beers, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She sat in the booth, her arms leaning on the table, her hands gripped together like she was trying to stay calm. Her face was tightly composed, but he knew she wasn’t happy. She was far from it.
The bartender placed two beers in front of him, just as he caught Sam ordering from a server. The server was back with two tequila shots just as he reached their table. Sam threw one back as if it was medicine. No salt. No lime. No pause. Finn placed their beers on the table as she reached for the second shot.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, keeping her eyes on the tequila. “A girl has to drown her sorrows every once in a while.”
“Fair enough.” Finn took a sip of his own drink. He sat next to her, watching her grimace as the second tequila went down. “Does that make you feel any better?”
“Oh, come on, Finn.” Sam scowled. “Can’t you cut me some slack?”
“Sure,” he said. “But I don’t think that’s a wise thing to do, Sam.”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”
