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He was in his usual uniform of track pants and a fleece pullover. He was in his thirties, attractive, although I’d never been into him. He’d raced for the Olympic team, although he’d never stood on a podium. Never got close to it.
“This where you’re shacking up now?” he asked, looking around. For all of Lucas’ family money, his place was pretty tame. An old miner’s house from the early days of Cutthroat. He’d obviously updated it since then, but it was still a tiny two bedroom. No garage. No pool or solarium or any other fancy stuff his parents had in their house. He’d told me he lived off his earnings from the non-profit, not his trust fund.
“This is it,” I replied. There was no reason to say more, to tell him it wasn’t shacking up.
He clapped his hands together. “Okay, you’ve gotten some dick, now it’s time to get your head back in the game.”
I froze at his crude words. “Excuse me?”
He laughed and held his hand up. “I understand. Believe me, I do. But you’ve had your fun. The way I see it, you can do Lillehammer as a warmup, then we’ll be ready for Wengen by January.”
God, when he said the word fun, it sounded so tawdry. Was that what Lucas and Cy thought when I’d tossed it at them?
“Mark, look,” I began.
He held up his hand. “Don’t say you’re quitting.”
“I’m quitting.”
There, I’d done it. He could leave now, and I could go to the ranch and get some more of that dick that he says has been distracting me.
Perhaps it had, but it seemed I’d needed a little distracting, and needed it for the rest of my life.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouted.
I stepped back at his sudden shift from his usual slightly aggressive tone to anger. His face turned red and a vein bulged at his temple. It only drew my eye to his receding hairline.
“No, I’m done. I’m sorry, Mark, but that accident finished me.”
He looked to my leg, as if he could see my knee through my jeans. “You said you had almost full range of motion and that you’re cleared.”
“I am.”
“Then let’s go.” He thumbed over his shoulder toward the door. “We can be in the Springs by morning.”
I shook my head and stepped back again, bumped into the couch.
“I said no. I’m done. You can go to the Springs, but I’m not going with you.”
His eyes narrowed and he advanced on me. “You uppity bitch. I’m your coach. You don’t say when you’re done. I do.”
I should have been pissed at him like I had been with Cy for bossing me around. With Cy, I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t afraid he’d hurt me. But Mark, now? I was angry at the way he was talking to me, but I was afraid of him more.
“Ever since you met that rich Mills kid, you’ve been off the rails.”
I stepped to my right, moved away from the couch, away from Mark. “I’ve felt this way longer than I’ve known Lucas.”
“Trust me, I know what it’s like to fuck a Mills. Pretty sweet stuff. But the flavor doesn’t last.”
I stared at him. What? What? He’d fucked Lucas? What the hell was he talking about.
Then it came to me and I freaked. Holy shit. He wasn’t talking about Lucas. He was talking about Erin. He’d fucked Erin Mills.
“You need to go now,” I said, trying to cut past him to get to the front door so he’d leave.
Instead, he grabbed my arm, shook me so my teeth snapped together.
“Oh, no. We’re not done, Hailey. We’re just getting started.” He’d fucked her. Had she made him mad? Oh God, had he killed her?
