And I’d rather not have him vomit on our silver-lined tablecloth.
We all know the most important person today won’t be the one flown in by helicopter.
It’ll be one of us.
One of us will make history.One of us will carve a name into the hill’s memory and claim a legacy.
Some would trade Olympic medals for it.
Most would give up a World Champs title.
Because Kitzbühel remembers.
And if the hill lets you through, it remembers your name forever.
Katharina walks toward our table, sleepy-eyed, coffee in one hand.
“Good morning, my lady,” Lukas starts.
“Good and morning are in contradiction,” she smirks.“I came to wish you luck.”
“No media obligations?”I raise an eyebrow.
“Just one thing,” she says, sets down her coffee, and taps her phone.
Our phones buzz, one after another.I reach for mine and open the message.
“I’ve prepped a reel for you to post—pre-race Kitzbühel morning,” she says, then nods to Martin.“Or your training clips, your stunt from yesterday will go viral.”
“I wish Elias did that for us,” Martin sighs.
“Yeah, but where’s the social media fun in this?”Niko asks.
I watch her and can’t decide what gets me more—her thoughtfulness or efficiency.But today, I’ve made a decision.
No distractions.Not even my favorite mind-fuck complication.
“Thank you,” I say, simply.
She nods.She wants to fuss, to hover, maybe tell us to be careful.Maybe hug me like I’m going to war.But she’s smart enough to know better.
That’s not what we need.
It’s not whatIneed.
I need full focus.
A place on the Streif changes everything.
And this year…
…this year is mine.
Not for the points.
Not for Bellini.
And not for her.
