They hit the final climb, then the straightaway in the stadium, and she wasn’t going to let Kirby down. Using her whole body, every reserve of energy, and every bit of her heart, she closed the gap.
Mara saw Kirby’s face, her smile, right before Kirby turned and started skiing, trying to pick up momentum before the exchange. Mara pushed harder to explode through the end of her leg. She let out a yell and tapped Kirby’s shoulder.
She got out of the way and put her hands on her knees. Her chest was heaving, and pain was present and accounted for in every part of her body. Even her teeth hurt. She felt ultimately drained. Emotionally and physically.
“Fuck,” she gasped, standing up. Tears sprung to her eyes. She was helped out of her skis.
The Norwegian skier she’d been chasing all race gave her a hug, and they both moved to the other side of the finish line to wait for their teammates to complete their last lap.
Mara was still winded when Kirby came into the stadium in second.
She reached the straightaway, and Mara knew how exhausted she’d been by that point. But Kirby didn’t look tired. She looked powerful.
She caught Norway. Drew even.
“Come on, Kirby!” Mara screamed.
Kirby had more in the tank, more to give.
One last push, all grit and determination and perseverance, and Kirby passed Norway. She lunged across the finish line. And Mara screamed again. She’d never screamed like that in her life, and she couldn’t stop.
Kirby collapsed onto her side, and Mara dove at her.
“You did it! You did it,” Mara yelled, grabbing Kirby, wanting to shake her and touch her and hug her. “You did it. Holy shit, Kirby, you did it!”
Kirby grimaced, panting. “Wedid.” She loosely wrapped her arms around Mara, and then her arms fell back into the snow like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “I’m tired.”
Mara laughed. No shit she was tired.
Mara cupped Kirby’s face, cold hands against Kirby’s red cheeks. Kirby smiled and sat up.
They had won a gold medal.
Holy shit. They’d won.
And suddenly Mara was sobbing, and she couldn’t stop that either.
Kirby pressed her forehead to Mara’s, and Mara never wanted to leave that position. In the snow, on their butts, Kirby still strapped into her skis, heads together, and so fucking close.
Kirby shucked off her gloves and gripped Mara’s face, skin on skin, her fingertips in Mara’s hair. Mara cried harder.
“You finally got your Olympic gold,” Kirby whispered.
“Wedid. I didn’t want to let you down.”
“Never.” Kirby wiped a tear away from Mara’s cheek with her thumb. “God, Mara.”
Then a flag was wrapped around their shoulders. They needed to stand up. They needed to do any number of things, but Mara wasn’t moving.
She was soaking up the win with Kirby for as long as she was allowed. For forever if she was allowed.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Kirby movedthrough the after-race chaos in a daze.
Mara hadn’t let go of her hand once. Not when Mara had hugged her parents. Not when Kirby had hugged Apollo, who was lined up to race his team sprint final right after theirs.
