But Austin won’t be there.
“No,” I say, the sound utterly heartbroken. “No. The Big Final. You didn’t?—”
“It’s okay.” His smile is crooked. There’s no pain in his eyes, either physical or emotional. “That I even made it here is a miracle. I’ve still got the Small Final. And I’ve got you.” He turns me, so I’m facing the exit and the waiting journalists who must now be drooling for a chance to talk to us after our little display here. Austin gives me a gentle push toward them. “Go. Go win the whole thing.”
I trip over the rigid toes of my boots but regain my balance before I fall and make a complete ass of myself. I find my abandoned skis and poles, then find Tara waiting for me, tapping a manicured nail on her arm as she waits for my next pass through the media run.
“Are you two finished?” she asks, though her eyes flicker with what I hope is amusement and not barely controlled violence.
I laugh. “Not even a little bit.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, the no-comment strategy is out the window, but I’d still suggest that you not?—”
I don’t wait to hear her advice. Instead, I slip into my skis to more quickly make my escape through the reporters. They all lean in as I approach, hurling questions at me, but I slide past them, not stopping to answer a single one.
“I’ll see you at the finish line,” I call. Let them do with that soundbite as they will. Regardless of what happens in this last race, my new catch phrase won’t be what gets reported tomorrow. The kiss. Austin’s arms wrapped around me. No one will remember how many times I told them about one race at a time.
A few minutes later, I’m in the equipment tent, waiting while the techs examine my skis. There’s a bigger break now than there has been between the other qualification rounds. A chance to inspect gear and swap out for fresh layers. Rehydrate and eat. Maybe even a quick stretch with the trainers to work out muscles that have already been pushed to the limit in the seeding round and first three runs of the day. Anyone who has made it to this point in the day is already aching, and now the most important race of all looms.
“I did it!”
With zero warning, an unexpected body hurtles into me, wrapping his arms around my middle. He’s smaller than Austin, and when he pulls his head back to look up at me, it’s Kage.
“Holy shit. Breathe,” I say. In fact, he’s breathing so hard he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t get it under control. “What’s going on?”
“I did it,” he says, face shining with uncontained excitement. “I made the Big Final!”
I blink, trying to unpack his words. I was so caught up in Austin and I not getting there together, I forgot about him. Matthieu is out, and in my narrowing focus, I had completely forgotten about Kage.
Now, though, I whoop, high-fiving him.
“The Big Final!” I call. We do a few celebratory hops before I spot Ivan lurking in the tent’s entry. When our eyes meet, he waves us over.
“How are you both feeling?” he asks, his voice all business.
“Amazing!” Kage says, still sounding on the verge of hyperventilating. I nod in agreement. In all honesty, I’m starving, and there’s a knot behind my shoulder blade that needs to be worked out ASAP. But I don’t want to dampen Kage’s enthusiasm. He’s worked as hard as any of us to get to this point. I’m still going to kick his ass in the last race, but that doesn’t mean he can’t celebrate reaching the Olympic Big Final in only his second year of senior competition.
Ivan brings us back to order. Food. Electrolytes. More video review. I’m lucky the German didn’t pass me sooner in that last race. My focus was so obviously all over the map through the middle of the course as I tried to figure out where Austin was, and it could have cost me everything. Felix appears with a massage gun that must be used to elicit confessions out of even the most hardened criminals, but by the time he’s done, the knot in my shoulder is gone.
I’m doing start simulations with a resistance band when a soft voice comes behind me.
“Hey.”
It’s Austin. He’s still in his race suit. He may have fallen, but making it to the semis guaranteed him at least a spot in the Small Final.
I’ve been so locked in on what comes next, I forgot that even still had to happen.
It’s my turn to kiss him. I reach out, hand behind his head to bring his mouth to mine. The nervous energy under my skin needs a release valve, and Austin’s soft groan against my lips turns me to liquid. Who cares who sees? Apparently everyone important knew already anyway. They knew more than Austin, who had forgotten everything. What a year this has been.
I pull away before we get ahead of ourselves and let out a slow stream of air that whistles between my teeth.
“How long until you go to the start?” I ask. The Small Final will happen first. There are no consolation prizes. No participation medals. But coming fifth or sixth at the Olympics is so far ahead of the millions of people who put on a pair of skis every winter simply for the enjoyment of being outside in the fresh air and cold, it’s still worth doing properly.
“Three minutes,” he says, keeping his face close to mine.
Not enough time for anything fun. Who cares what the wives’ tales say? We’ve made it this far, and our dream of standing on the podium together is over. A quick hand job behind a tree or in an empty equipment van might be what both of us need.
Austin grins, clearly following my train of thought, but he shakes his head.
