“You wanted to manipulate my decisions.”
“No, I just… Right now you can’t see anything but the Games—”
“That’s because that’s what I do. I’m a snowboarder, Julia. There’s nothing else for me but the Games.”
“That’s not true—”
“It is true. I barely made it out of high school. I have no other vocation, no other skill. I’m sorry, baby, I’m not a fucking Einstein. I can’t build computer programs or run a marketing firm or learn medicine. All I can do is slide down hills covered in ice on a goddamned piece of fiberglass. That’s it. Without the Games, I have nothing.”
Her heart sank back into a familiar and dark place. “So you don’t care if the cement they used on your leg could cause your bone to shatter, which would ultimately result in the amputation of your leg below the knee.”
“McMillan said your concerns were unfounded and far-fetched.”
Acid burned across her ribs. She pressed her lips together to keep herself from seething out hateful, angry remarks. “Dr. McMillan is very invested in your success at the Games because adding you to his list of achievements would make him look good. I’m concerned with your long-term health.”
Noah’s hand jerked up as he gestured to himself. “It would make me look pretty fuckin’ good too. And it seems to me that your concern for my long-term health is another way of padding your bank account. You pushed him to recommend more therapy for me to Epic?”
His words were an accusation, not a question, and the direction of this argument started a tremble deep in her body. “Given all we don’t know about the cement, I think it’s critical that you continue getting therapy, yes.”
He took another menacing step forward. “You’re fucking with my biggest sponsor, Julia. Didn’t you stop to consider how that would look to them? That they might pull support if they have to dump any more money into me?”
No. She hadn’t looked at it that way. All she’d been able to see was concern for his future. “Your long-term health is more important than one event.”
“Or maybe a steady ca
sh influx for you is more important than me going to the Games.”
Pain stabbed Julia’s heart. She sucked a sharp breath and held it, unable to believe the man she’d fallen in love with had actually made that accusation.
Silence fell between them, a silence that seemed extremely loud after all the yelling.
Noah shook his head, looked away, rubbed a hand over his mouth, scraped his hand through his hair. Then he took another step closer, and his scent touched her nose, a scent that felt as familiar as her own. One she loved. One that brought back amazing memories of the deep connection they’d forged. A connection she could feel slipping away.
“Tell me this,” he demanded.
She forced herself to meet his eyes.
“If you could have convinced McMillan not to sign my release, would you have let him hold me back from the Games?”
She thought back over all the information she knew about the cement, the screws, his injury, his rehab, his stunts. She thought over McMillan’s reaction to her visit, the surgeon’s silence, the overall risk to Noah’s health. And knew none of that mattered to Noah in this moment. None of it would heal the fierce betrayal she saw in his eyes.
“Knowing everything I know…” she said, forcing the honesty forward despite the pain it would cause them both. Because now she had to do for Noah what no one had done for her all those years ago. He might hate her for it, but she’d hate herself more if she kept it from him. “Putting your health and the longevity of your career first… Yes. If I could have kept you from the Games, I would have.”
He stepped back and straightened, and the look that came over his face was remote, like he’d just tucked his heart and soul away somewhere safe—far, far away from her.
She just needed him to pound in the last nail, and she could let go the way he just had. “So, you tell me this. Are you going to ignore everything I’ve said, all the information I’ve given you, and compete, even if it risks your health?”
His expression was resolute…and deeply betrayed. “I’m definitely going to compete.”
She pressed her lips together and dropped her gaze to the counter. Pain radiated through her chest, the same way it had when her parents had brushed her off when she was no longer a shining athlete, the way Duncan had brushed her aside when she had nothing left to give him. Now Noah was brushing her off because her truth didn’t fit with his fantasy.
Managing a nod, she turned and pulled open the drawer closest to the back door. She dragged out the file of information and set it on the counter. “Just in case you’re ever interested or even curious about the why behind what I did.”
She wanted to tell him she was sorry. That she hoped he owned Snowmass. That she would pray her fears were indeed unfounded and he lived out a long, happy healthy life on the slopes. But the words caught in her throat, and tears rushed her eyes.
All she managed was a soft “Good luck” before she turned for the stairs, with thoughts of returning to San Francisco alone filling her head, and tears blurring her vision.
Noah sat at his kitchen table, feet up, a beer in his hand, his gaze staring at Julia’s Uggs still sitting by the back door five days after she’d left.