“Don’t call me that.”
Mara didn’t like where this was going. She wasn’t sure if it was the pressure cooker of the Olympics, or maybe it was her own hang-ups, but everything felt heavy. Every word. Every action. It had been building for days. Since her crash in theskiathlon. Maybe since their kisses in Oberhof after Kirby’s panic attack.
And it was all getting mixed up in Mara’s brain. Her plans and goals.
To craft her legacy.
To win gold.
To enjoy her last experience at the Olympics.
To do her best.
What was her real purpose here?
Surely, it wasn’t… itcouldn’tbe to fall for her biggest fucking rival. It just couldn’t be.
Mara met Kirby’s eyes. They were the brightest blue. Like a glacier-fed lake. And so wounded. So hurt, even though Mara hadn’t pulled the trigger on theirsituationyet. But Kirby knew it was coming. She had to.
Mara refused to put her skiing at risk. This—Kirby—was taking up too much emotional bandwidth. Too much mental load.
“If you want to fuck again, let me know, but I’m not your emotional crutch,Kirby.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Heavy,oppressive silence filled the locker room.
Kirby should have known it was a mistake to talk to Mara.
I’m not your emotional crutch.
Kirby.
Yikes.
Kirby hadn’t sought out Mara intentionally. She had just started to wander through the training areas, looking around, searching for something to calm the rabbiting of her heart. Someone to talk to. Somewhere she belonged.
It was a mistake to think Mara cared about more than a few quickies. Kirby didn’t belong with Mara. Not in the same ski clubs. Not in a relationship.
“You know, we compete in such a physically agonizing sport. Pushing our bodies to collapse,” Kirby said. “Pushing until we are in unimaginable pain. But you sayingthatmight have hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt while skiing.” Kirby tried to speak as evenly as she could. She deserved to say her peace, whether Mara was mature enough to hear it or not.
“That seems… a little dramatic.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
Mara’s spine went straight as a ski pole. She was in her training gear and as beautiful as ever. “No really. Why would that hurt? Why does it matter what I say now?”
Kirby paced away. She wanted to rip her own hair out. It felt like what they had, what theycouldhave, was so obvious. But not to Mara May, who evidently only had skis for brains.
They hadn’t spoken in days, and the separation felt like the full-body agony at the end of a race. She’d wanted to celebrate with Mara after winning her bronze medal. She’d wanted to commiserate with Mara after Mara had won hers because Kirby knew Mara wouldn’t be happy with a bronze.
But Mara had avoided her like she hadbefore.
Before they’d kissed. Before they’d fucked. Before the slow creep of vulnerability between them.
“If you can’t answer that for yourself, then you are the most obtuse person I’ve ever met.”
