If I attempt to race, even if it’s just to maintain my eligibility, there will be questions about my future on the circuit, and I don’t know how to answer.
I don’t have a plan B. Never did. Arrogant as fuck, yeah, but it worked, and I did well enough that I’m not exactly hurting, rightnow. That won’t last forever, though. At some point I’ll have to do something to survive, and I haven’t got a clue what that is.
For the past few months, I haven’t cared if my riding career fizzled out. I never gave a shit about the money, the fame, or the titles. Still don’t. I raced because I loved to ride, and riding fast came naturally to me. The fact that I was so good was just job security—not some burning desire to be the best. I have no trouble walking away from that life. Or at least, I thought I didn’t. But after getting back on the snow, I can admit it… I remembered why I started riding in the first place. That the mountain was where I felt most at home.
That didn’t make me want to dismiss my promise not to ride again. Hell, part of me wants to believe I haven’t actually broken my promise to Chase since getting on the board wasn’t my idea. But it did get me thinking about what I’d do if I let my riding career go, especially after Hayden said it’s clear I belong on a board.
Aaand now he’s in my head again.Fuck!
I kissed him. Straight up hauled him against me and stuck my tongue in his mouth, and he didn’t fight me on that. What’s worse is, I think he liked it as much as I did.
He’s supposed to hate me, and instead he kissed me back without hesitating. He didn’t come to his senses and stop it either, which makes me think he wouldn’t have. If I’m the one who has to be the voice of reason we’re fucked seeing as my mind is shit on a good day. I should probably stay away. Too bad my dumb ass went and made that harder to do by getting a taste of what I shouldn’t want.
Spotting my bag in the locker I’ve claimed, I march toward it, ready to snatch it and leave without a trace. Then I notice the board Hayden rode yesterday isn’t propped against the wall where I left it, and a queasy feeling rolls through my stomach.He wouldn’t.
Shoving the bag back in the locker, I rush to his office.Empty. His coat and snow pants are missing, too.
Racing back to the lockers, I throw on my gear and jog to the lift where, in my second spot of good luck, the chairs are still spinning.
“Chairs close in five minutes. You sure you want to go up?” The operator looks at me skeptically.
His co-worker elbows him before turning to me. “Go ahead, Ryder. You’re good.”
I’m too distracted to register whether I know the guy or not. I just hop on the chair and try to tune out what I know he’s probably saying.That’s the guy who races for the mountain. The one whose brother died.
At the top of the lift, I get off the chair and head for the run we did yesterday, hoping he’d at least stick to what’s familiar. But the slope is empty, as far as I can see anyway.
I strap in and start to ride, going clear across the entire run each time I turn instead of straight down like I normally would, so I can see if he went off course. The setting sun casts shadows over the snow that mess with my vision, so I call his name as I go, hoping he’ll hear me in case I can’t see him.
The longer I go without a sign, the faster my heart beats, causing my breath to come out in shallow spurts.This is my fault.
Hayden may be an ice prick on the outside, but there’s a fire inside him that probably flared white hot after what I did today. Kissing him then shoving him aside… I was disgusted with myself, not him. I doubt he recognized the difference though. So yeah, I didn’t push him down the slope, but I may as well have strapped the board on him myself.
Where the hell is he? What do I do if I can’t find him?
I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s hurt…or worse.What are the odds I screw up another person’s life? Am I really that unlucky, or that dangerous to the people around me?
“Hayden!” I call out as I crest the top of a rolling hill and drop onto the descent. “Hayden!”
“Here!"
I skid to a stop, swinging my head wildly back and forth.Nothing. Cupping my hands around my mouth I call out again, “Hayden!” Then I hold the breath in my lungs, so it doesn’t interfere with my hearing.
“Here!"
I spin to my right and look down the mountain, spotting a dark shadow by the side of the run. Suddenly, it moves—he’s waving his arm—and I point my board in his direction, covering the distance between us in a matter of seconds.
Sliding to a stop, I drop to my knees next to where he’s seated on his backside, scanning his body for any damage. “Are you hurt?”
He tilts his head up to look at me from underneath his helmet. “I’ll probably have trouble sitting for the next few days, but otherwise, no.”
“You didn’t crash?” He's precariously close to a tree, but it doesn’t look like he hit it.
“Nope.”
“But you fell?”
“Repeatedly. I don’t understand why though. I’m doing everything you said.” I see his brows draw together through the lens of his goggles.
