“It stayed,” she murmurs.“So did we.”
Epilogue
Playlist:
Take That: Shine
Katrina & The Waves: Walking On Sunshine
Hinterstoder, Austria, February 15, 2027
Katharina
The finish area hums with the usual noise, cowbells, radios, the chatter of journalists checking their gear, but I feel none of the old panic.My pass hangs from my neck, earpiece in, clipboard in hand.Everything in order.
And yet my eyes keep drifting to the start list.
Thomas Kern.Bib twenty-three.
His first race back since the crash.He isn’t here to win.He’s just here to race.
A year ago feels like a flashbulb going off in my memory; splintered ski in the depot, hospital wristband digging into his skin, the sound of a helicopter cutting the sky.I blink hard, shake it off.That was then.This is now.
The Hannes Trinkl Strecke stretches above me, beautiful and brutal as always, sun glinting sharp off its ridges.Nothing has changed, except everything.
I tuck my gloved hands into my jacket pockets.My fingers are cold.The air bites.
And still, for the first time in a long time, I can breathe.
Thomas finishes in the top ten.Not a win, not even close to the podium — but his knee holds, and there’s no pain.Well, no more pain than his physio predicted.He celebrates at the finish like he’s already claimed gold.And in a way, he has.
The best part?Niko takes his first downhill win.The kid beams into the cameras, drenched in champagne, his grin so wide it could light the valley.Tonight will be a party to remember.
I duck into the press center, letting the buzz of journalists fill the space behind me.By the coffee machine, Maddie appears, her badge swinging on its lanyard.
“How’s the pulse?”she asks.
“Resting,” I say, smiling.“For now.”
She takes a sip of her cup, eyes sliding toward the mountain outside the tall glass window.“I didn’t think he’d make it back here this soon.”
I shrug, warming my hands against the paper cup.“He didn’t race for headlines this time.He raced for himself.”
Maddie takes a sip of her coffee, eyes sliding toward the mountain outside the tall glass window.“That’s why he’ll be fine.”
She grins, crooked.“You know, I could write a book just on the circus of ski romances.De Lorenzo and Kostner nearly broke the internet before TikTok existed.And now you two…” She trails off with a wicked smile.“Well, let’s just say I’m never short of material.”
We stand in the corridor, the hum of voices fading to a comfortable silence.
I glance sideways, then ask softly, “How was your summer anyway?”
