He’s still studying me like I could grow tentacles or scales at any moment, but eventually he shrugs. “Fine, I guess. A little cold. If they don’t get the power back on?—”
“No, I mean, do you have any lingering conditions I should know about? From the accident. High blood pressure? Brain bleed? Anything that means you shouldn’t receive stressful news unprepared?”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re being dramatic, Zed.”
“I’m being serious. Are you okay?”
He makes a fist and rolls it around on his wrist. “This hurts when it rains. Sometimes the muscles between my ribs ache if I laugh too hard or sneeze funny. My ears get this ringing sound when it’s really cold that the doctor says might be left over from the jaw fracture, but no one can say for sure.”
My stomach rolls as the remembered sight of him lying in a crumpled heap of snow and blood replays itself in my memory. I have no idea how that broken person and the man in front of me are the same one.
“I was really scared,” I say. “You were so hurt and I didn’t know what to do.”
It’s not the confession I plan to make. I was going to tell him about the competition-worthy sex the night before. About the sound he made as I pushed my dick into him for the first time. About the embarrassing way I came all over myself as he played with my balls and licked my taint. About how I haven’t been with anyone else since that night because no one would ever,everbe like he was, and as a horny twenty-three-year-old in his sexual prime, that level of restraint is extraordinary. There wereopportunities, and I walked away from every single one of them because nothing would ever compare to him.
He shakes his head. “I don’t remember.”
“I know!” My voice comes out louder than I mean to and I bury my head in my hands. “You were going to die and there was nothing I could do but hold you and beg you to keep breathing. And you don’t even remember. You know what?” I round on him. “That’s fine. Because I do. Every single time I close my eyes, it’s all I can see. And you got to walk away.”
“Walk away?” His eyes go wide. “I could barely walk at all. I was moving like an old man. Everything hurt all the time. You were scared? I didn’t think I’d ever be okay again. That I would be in pain for the rest of my life. You think I can forget that?”
Our voices echo off the snow. His expression is furious. I don’t care.
“You don’t remember. You don’t remember!” I say over and over.
It’s not fair. It’s not fair that we’re this way. I don’t know which is worse. That I remember all of it. Every single goddamn second. Or that he remembers none of it. The bad parts. The fear and the pain. But also the good too. Because there was so much good before, and for him, it’s all gone, leaving me alone with all the memories.
He slides a little closer to me. Not so much that we can touch, but the gulf between us gets smaller. His closeness makes me flinch, but he doesn’t back away.
He says, “They told me you came to see me in the hospital. The night of the accident.”
I’m shaking as too many feelings war inside me. Did he feel better knowing I was there? Does he think I’m pathetic for needing to see him? Is it wrong that I’m mad that he wasn’t there for me? He was rebuilding his body. Recovering. I know that.But he was gone in every single way that mattered, and I needed my friend. How am I supposed to tell him that?
All those months talking in therapy and suddenly I don’t know what to say.
Austin comes even closer, so he can put one arm around mine. The pressure of his squeeze helps a bit.
“I don’t even remember that,” he says,thunking our helmets together again. “But I’m really glad you came. I needed you.”
It’s a nice thought. For him. I still don’t feel better. He doesn’t get to win. He doesn’t get the last word.
“We had sex,” I blurt. The truth falls out of me like vomit after a night of binge drinking. “Holy shit. We had sex. The night before the accident.”
Anotherthunkas he retreats again quickly.
“What?” His face has lost its sweet pink shine and he’s gone completely pale. His obvious shock makes me feel better. A little at least.
But I still can’t stop. “So much sex. We kissed outside a bar and you said you loved me. We went back to the hotel and things were a little weird, until they weren’t and then we fucked.” I take a deep inhale. “Holy fuck, did we fuck. Like, for hours. All night. Doggy style. You on top. You sucked me off and I ate your ass and?—”
“What?” He’s got one hand on the chair’s upright and the other on his chest and for a minute I think he might actually pass out. I envision him slithering from the chair and tumbling through open space and I can’t even begin to think how I’d explain that to the ski patrol. Or what I’d say to the media when the story gets out and the people ask how Austin Grimm survived a horrible accident that shattered bones throughout his body and came back from it in time to achieve his Olympic dream, only to mysteriously plummet off a stationary ski lift and die and— “You ate my ass?”
The mountain falls silent again. My ears ring. Austin continues to stare at me. I could blow a puff of breath in his direction and he really would float away in the wind.
My bottom lip quivers and for a second I think I’m going to cry. Then I realize it’s not tears I’m holding back. It’s laughter. The shocked look on his face. The way his mouth hangs open after he finishes his question. A breeze brushes over us and makes a hollow whistling sound in the space between his lips, and that’s what finally makes me lose it. The laughter bursts from me in a flurry of spit and hysteria. I laugh so hard a crow takes flight from a tall, skinny tree not far from us. Austin continues to watch me as expressions of stunned awe wash over his face. Every time I think I’m ready to pull myself together and answer his question, I look at him and start laughing all over again, until once more tears are pouring down my face. My cheeks hurt, and my stomach too, which makes me think of his ribs hurting when he sneezes and somehow that also seems funny now, and the giggling continues.
By the time I’m done, he’s starting to look more than a little hurt. He’s closed his mouth, but now he’s pushing out his bottom lip in a pout that makes me want to kiss him. He’s mine. My best friend. Brother on the snow. And I’ve told him now and he didn’t freak out or run away...though right now, where would he go?
“I’m sorry,” I gasp, wiping my eyes. “I didn’t think it was going to come out like that.”
