As the clock nears one, I abandon my paperwork so I can be in the lobby when Ryder and Max return from their lesson. Am I hovering?Yes. But since Ryder isn’t the best conversationalist, I’m not sure he’d give me all the details I need—okay, that Iwant—to know. Plus, Max is adorable, and I sort of want to see his reaction myself.
Dust rag in hand, I’m wiping off the counter when the two of them come through the door, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Delvy.
Ryder has both their boards cradled loosely in one arm as he leads everyone in, hanging back to hold open the door until they’re all inside.He has manners?I must be wearing my surprise on my face because the moment he sees me he lets go of the door, and it slams shut with a deafening bang. I jump, same as Mr. and Mrs. Delvy, but Max is too absorbed in his storytelling to notice.
“And I almost did a turn on my own. I got, like, seventy percent by myself, right Mr. Ryder?” He turns his adoring eyes to his hero.
“I told you, it’s just Ryder. And you turned seventydegreeson your own, almost a quarter turn.”
“A quarter?” Mrs. Delvey looks like she wants to ask more but isn’t sure of the words, so she lets her question hang.
“If a full circle is three-hundred-sixty degrees, a quarter turn is ninety. It means Max is almost able to go from pointing the board down the slope to stopping it perpendicularly, on his heel side. Eventually, he should be able to do that on his toe side, and then he can link them both together so instead of coming to a full stop with each turn he’s riding in a curved motion.” He swooshes his free arm back and forth almost like a snake would slither over the ground to demonstrate.
“He’ll be able to do that?” Mr. Delvy’s eyes grow wide as his wife’s get glassy with unshed tears.
“I don’t see why not. He’s got good board control; it’s just a matter of repeating the motion enough that it becomes instinctive.”
“Can I go with Ryder again tomorrow? Please, please, please.” Max looks up at his parents with his hands clasped like they’re in prayer.
“Would that be okay with you, Ryder?” Mrs. Delvy’s mouth twitches as if she’s limiting her smile to one of hopeful politeness instead of all-out joy.
Ryder casts his eyes downward as he rubs the back of his neck—a stall tactic maybe—although the subtle lift of his shoulder makes him look bashful instead of hesitant. “Yeah, as long as the boss says I can.”
Four faces spin in my direction, three of them with hopeful grins and one that’s carefully blank. I can’t tell if that means he wants me to play the bad guy so he can go back to drinking and cleaning, but he’s shit out of luck if that’s his goal. I’ve come around to Carter’s way of thinking, and even though it’s not really my focus to fix a broken instructor, I can’t keep him from the one thing that might help himheal. Not unless he sabotages himself, and I suspect if Max is relying on him, he won’t.
“I think that’s a great idea.” Ryder’s expression doesn’t change as my words echo through the lobby, though he does offer Max a slight smile and a fist bump before he wobbles off to the lockers with his parents. Once the family is out of sight, Ryder collapses onto the nearest couch, leaning his head against the back cushion with closed eyes.
“I wasn’t expecting rousing enthusiasm from you, but was it really that bad?” I read his body language and briefly panic that I’ve made the wrong call.
“Don’t worry, Frosty. I won’t back out on the kid.”
This is not the same relaxed, borderline content guy I saw on the mountain, and it instantly sets me on edge. “Maybe you should. Kids can sense when you don’t want them around, and I don’t need Max feeling like his hero isn’t interested in him. I’d rather cut his losses now, than break his little heart later.”
Ryder lifts his head up to look at me with uninhibited frustration. “What’s with all the drama? I’m fucking tired, not annoyed. Or I wasn’t until you started hounding me.”
“Well,excusemefor misinterpreting your blank expression. Anger, annoyance, frustration, pain, grief, disinterest and disgust all look the same on you.”
He rolls his eyes so hard his pupils practically disappear before the lids fall shut. That makes me want to stomp away, but I can’t until I know more about the lesson.
“Did you mean that about the turns?” I try to soften my voice, so he’ll be less defensive. “You really think he’ll be able to do one without you?”
This time Ryder’s gaze is more curious than irritated, until a lightbulb seems to go off, and his usual scowl returns. “You were watching us?”
I cross my arms in front of my chest.I didn’t feel like being nice, anyway. “Of course, I was. Problem?”
“Nah, I’m used to it.” He casts me a smug grin.Why is that so hot?
I feel the heat rush to my cheeks, more from embarrassment than anger, though hopefully he doesn’t know that. “Don’t flatter yourself. I watch everyone I’m responsible for.”
“Oh, you thought I meantyouwatch me?” That smirk grows even more devious as his brown eyes seem to drink me in. “Don’t flatter yourself, Frosty. I meant everyonewatches me. Fans, friends, people that whisper behind my back, wondering if it’s really me. Everyone.”
His wicked expression is meant to taunt me; to make me think he likes the attention. But I hear what he doesn’t say. He’s drowning under the weight of all those stares, especially now, when he’s more lost than ever. So, even though my pride wants me to retort, I don’t. Not the way he wants me to.
“So, about those turns? You really think Max can do one without you?”
Ryder’s eyes lose their luster as he realizes I’m not taking the bait, but before they can soften completely, he blinks the indifferent mask back into place. Casually lifting a shoulder he replies, “Like I told his parents, I don’t see why he couldn’t do that again and then some.”
“I heard. It’s just that riding with a prosthesis is really hard. Most people opt to ski, and they either do it with one leg, or they sit on a mono-ski. I don’t want you to get his hopes up just because it’ll make him feel good.”
