Chapter 3

This was worse than Ry imagined. Breakfast and another coffee sounded good, but he needed to go after Brynn. Eager to find her, he strode out of the day lodge. He wouldn't call her a hot mess, but she was heading in that direction. She was also in full denial as he’d been.

The sun shone bright in the blue sky, but the wind had picked up. He zipped his jacket, put on a beanie, and shoved his hands into gloves.

Skiers passed him, loaded down with skis, boots, and bags. A man carried three pairs of skis while two smiling kids shuffled beside him. One boy, around four, wore a blue parka with golden flames on the sleeves. Guyer Gear’s double G emblem was on the coat and coordinating ski pants. The kid kept pointing every which way, overflowing with excitement.

As Ry watched the trio pass, he remembered the ski trips when he’d been a little kid and how his dad had shared his love of the sport. He’d do the same when he had children. Not that he wanted a family anytime soon, but someday.

Being on the mountain with his dad had been the best time. Much better than when Ry was older and the only thing his dad wanted to share with him was work.

As Brynn walked twenty feet ahead, her ponytail bounced.

He quickened his pace to catch up, mindful of each step with his right foot. Habit, one he hoped to put behind him when his leg completely healed.

She’d put on a good act in the lodge, but he saw through the “I’ve got this” bravado. The slight quiver of her bottom lip, the tightness around her mouth, and the worry in her eyes gave her away. Brynn believed she could tackle this on her own, but she couldn’t.

She picked up a pink glove that a little girl had dropped. The child’s mother thanked her, and Brynn was off again.

Seeing her was like staring at his reflection after being injured. For the first six months of his recovery, he’d acted the same. Same denial. Same mask of confidence when he’d never been so frightened in his life.

Then he’d hit rock bottom.

That collapse had jolted him worse than crashing out during the race in St. Moritz. But he was lucky. Friends had rallied around him, ignoring his demands for them to go away. They hadn’t listened.

Neither would he.

Brynn was stuck with him whether or not she had her own support network. He might not solve her problems, but she couldn’t race much worse this week than she’d been doing.

Ry cut the distance between them. Brynn’s pace was off, her gait stiff. No limp, but she favored her left side.

“Brynn,” he called out. “Wait up.”

Peering over her shoulder, she blew out a long breath that floated on the cold air. “Seriously?”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Her lips pressed together; the corners curved downward. The wind toyed with the stray tendrils of hair, whipping a few across her face. She was attractive, maybe more so than she’d been at nineteen. Same brown eyes, tan skin, and lips made for long, slow kisses.

Something was different, though.

She may have avoided him, but even from a distance, her eagerness and excitement about skiing had been contagious during team meetings. He’d appreciated that about her even if she hadn’t liked him. Now, she appeared weary and defeated.

Something had happened. Something not good.

After his injury, he’d realized how little he controlled in his life. That had been a rude and disturbing awakening. Maybe she’d come to the same understanding.

He stood next to her.

“What?” Brynn sounded annoyed.

“You don’t want my help.”

“Give the man a gold star. Or would that be a gold medal?”

Her words stung. The elusive gold was the carrot driving him, but he wouldn’t react and give her what she wanted. Instead, he took a calming breath. “If I apologize…?”

“A little late, don’t you think?”

She had a point, but he needed to say something. “You were young, new to the team. Having a one-night stand was a mistake.”

She stared at him as if he’d morphed into a green alien with one eye and a dozen antennae sticking out of his head. “Nothing you say should surprise me, but this does.”

She sounded disgusted, not annoyed, but he didn’t understand why. “What did I say?”

“We didn’t”—her voice was low as if telling a secret—“have a one-night stand.”

“Yes, we did.”

“No, we did not even though you told everyone we had.” She pinned him with a hard-as-steel gaze. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under. “Do you remember anything about that night?”

“I woke up in bed.” He kept his voice quiet so as not to draw attention, but the people around them seemed more interested in getting to the slopes. “You were in my room, wearing my clothes.”

“But that doesn’t mean we had…sex.” She whispered the last word.

“Then why was I naked?”

She wet her lips. “Because I had to undress you after you threw up on both of us.”

The night remained a blank.

“I changed into clothes I found in your bag and then washed the dirty stuff in the tub,” she continued. “I left yours to dry in the bathroom. Mine were hanging in the closet so I wouldn’t forget them.”

“I don’t remember.”

“A memory lapse didn’t stop you from talking about me to the others, telling them how good I was in bed. That I did whatever you asked me to do.”

Ry swore. He’d been young and stupid—a selfish jerk. He could imagine himself doing that. Sad but true. “I wouldn’t have lied.”

She raised a brow, giving him a dubious look.

“I might have filled in the gaps,” he added.

“You blacked out. The entire night was a gap.”

He’d treated her badly, and she was responding. He deserved her harsh tone. “Yes, but everyone thought… I assumed—”

“Bad assumption. And I paid the price. Well, my reputation did, and what the guys my age expected if we went out. Needless to say, not dating was easier.” Holding her chin high, Brynn crossed her arms in front of her chest. “For the record, you kissed me once. Then you got sick. I cleaned you up. You passed out. End of the story until you woke up the next morning.”

What she said replayed through his mind. Worse, he could imagine that happening. He’d never been good at drinking in moderation. This also explained her reaction to him all these years.

He wasn’t proud of how he’d acted. He’d ended up with a hangover, a small price to pay, compared to her having to deal with what he’d told others. Not that he remembered doing that, either.

Nothing he did or said would make this right, but he had to try.

“Too late, I realize, but I’m sorry.” Ry hoped he sounded sincere because he was sorry. “I made assumptions about us. You. It’s not an excuse, but I partied too much. Took advantage of women. Spouted off my big mouth. I was a complete jerk. But I’m not that same guy.”

“Sure, you’re not.” Her disbelief cut like a newly sharpened ski edge.

“It’s true.” And Ry knew what to do. He would make amends for his past actions by helping Brynn beat whatever was messing with her head. “I can’t change what happened, but I’m here now. Let me help you get through this competition.”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t take off. “That’s guilt talking.”

“I won’t deny that. I’m probably the last person you’d want help from.”

“Not ‘probably.’ You are.”

Hearing that poked at him like the tip of a ski pole being pressed against his chest, but he wouldn’t be deterred. “The coaches think I’m the right person to work with you for a reason.”

“Yeah, so you can lead me down the dark path, so I screw up more and get kicked off the team.”

“No freakin’ way.” Anger burned in his gut. His hands balled. “Not being able to do what you love sucks. I’m there now. I’d never take someone away from her passion. Especially skiing. Never.”

The doubt remained on her face.

His fault.

Which meant he had to make things right between them.

A bus parked at the curb, and people streamed out, talking and laughing while they waited for their skis and boots to be unloaded. He needed to convince Brynn to let him help her. Telling her what he’d gone through would do it, but this wasn’t the place to talk with so many around.

“Let’s head over to where I’m staying,” Ry suggested. “We can talk while you ice your hip. Did you catch an edge?”

“How did you know?”

“Been there, done that more times than I want to count.” He motioned for her to follow. “Come on. I’ve got everything you need to make you feel better.”

She raised her chin. “Is that one of your pickup lines?”

“It was once, but not now. This is a legit offer.”

She stared down her nose. “I don’t believe you.”

Man, she had the haughty expression down. Not that he blamed her. “If you’d rather talk to the team doc—”

“No.” The word flew from her mouth faster than a racer out of the starting gate. “Where’s your place?”

Smiling would only upset her more, so he didn’t. “Not far.”

She’d have plenty of time to throw more verbal jabs his way, and he deserved every single one. He wanted her to get them out, to speak her mind and call him names. Maybe then she’d listen to him, because she needed to hear what he had to say, or she might as well forget skiing and go home.

“The condo is less than a block away.” Ry pointed to the complex up ahead. Brynn was trying to ignore her bruise, but he could tell from the way her hand hovered above her hip, it hurt. “My friends, Brett and Laurel Matthews, own it. He manages my investment portfolio.”

Brynn shot him sideways glances. None were dagger-filled, so that was an improvement over previous encounters, though he doubted any of her thoughts about him were good. But he’d earned her dislike. That was on him.

Inside the unit, she glanced around. “Nice place.”

“It’s close to the slopes and comfortable.” The one-story, two-bedroom condo was small and cozy. He’d expected Brett to own something fancier given the guy’s business and net worth, but then Ry realized Brett and Laurel probably wanted a homier vacation property now that they had little Noelle. They didn’t need another showplace like their estate in Portland to impress people and clients.

Not that this unit was anywhere close to slumming. Laurel, an interior designer, had overseen the remodel and decorating. A granite breakfast bar with three stools separated the kitchen from the living room. A rock fireplace was along the left wall, and a dining area sat on the far side of the condo. The open floor plan and overstuffed furniture were perfect for relaxing.

Brynn sat on the couch and took off her snow boots, but she kept on her jacket, as if wanting to be ready to make a quick exit.

He hung his coat on the barstool and turned on the gas fireplace. That would make her sorry she hadn’t removed her coat. A childish move, maybe, but the way she looked down at him bugged Ry. Yes, he hadn’t treated her well, but he wasn’t the same person he’d been five years ago. If she wanted to sweat, that was her choice. Taking off her jacket wasn’t a sign of surrender.

“I’ve got ice or frozen peas,” he said from the adjoining kitchen.

“Peas, please.” She rested her sock-covered foot on the coffee table.

He wrapped a bag in a dishtowel. “Hurting?”

“Not bad.”

“Bet you’ve got a big bruise.” He went into the living room. “Let me see.”

Brynn stiffened. “Only if you want a knee in your groin.”

Ry could do without her attitude. “Here are your peas.”

She placed the pack against her hip. “Got ibuprofen?”

“Of course.” He poured her a glass of water, grabbed the bottle from the bathroom, and handed them to her. “Want anything else?”

“Nope.” She downed the pills. “The cold feels good.”

“Did the doc or trainer examine you?”

She nodded once. “I’ll be rechecked when I do dryland training.”

A bruise wouldn’t stop a skier from working out in the gym, but Ry hoped she was telling the truth about seeking medical attention. Though at this point in the season, joints and muscles might hurt with or without a fall.

He sat next to her but kept space between them. He didn’t want her to think he was making a move. He wouldn’t. Not even if he wanted a date, which he didn’t. Brynn Windham was as prickly as a porcupine. She was acting this way because of him, but still…

“If you’re hungry, I can order food,” he offered.

“I’m not. What did you want to talk about?”

She wasn’t wasting time. Then again, the super combined was in two days, followed by the super G, slalom, parallel slalom, and giant slalom.

“Me,” he said.

She sighed.

“And you,” he added. “I want you to know why I can help.”

She adjusted a throw pillow behind her. “This should be good.”

Not good, but necessary. He didn’t share this side of his injury. Only those closest to him and his medical team had witnessed his meltdown and his struggles. But he had to tell Brynn so she would understand.

Ry took a breath and exhaled slowly. People saw him as happy-go-lucky, born with a silver spoon, out for a good time. He’d been that way before. Now…not so much. “The coaches asked me to help you because I’ve been where you are. After my injury, I went through a…rough time.”

“You were hurt. Unable to compete in PyeongChang.”

Her voice sounded concerned, almost compassionate. Two emotions Ry hadn’t expected from her. Nor did he deserve them.

“Most people would be upset,” she added.

“Yes, but I lost it. Emotionally. The mental stuff piled on top of the physical.” He cringed at the bad memories. “It was a mess.”

She leaned toward him. “What happened?”

“I closed up and shut down. Before my crash, I might have been careless, sometimes thoughtless, even reckless, but never mean. I was then. I tried to drive away friends, make them hate me so they’d leave me alone in my misery. At my lowest point, I made my mother cry and cursed at my father. I’ll never forget when my dad asked me what I’d done to their son Ryland. And that was before we’d resolved our differences.”

“You had problems with your parents?”

“Big ones.” He imagined his dad now with a smile on his face. Much better than the frowns Ry used to get. “My dad introduced me to skiing when I was four, but he didn’t support my competing because he wanted me to work for him. He saw the Sochi Winter Games as my last hurrah, but I saw it as the beginning of something bigger for my skiing. I wanted another chance at a gold medal.”

“That had to be tough.”

Ry nodded. “The arguments started when I was eighteen. I felt I was being forced into a life I didn’t want and rebelled. Drinking and partying helped me escape the future my father wanted for me. I rationalized my behavior by thinking if my reputation were bad enough he wouldn't want me to take over the company.”

She didn’t say anything, but her brows knotted as if she were considering what he’d said. “And now?”

“Crashing out made us see we were both wrong. My dad realized he shouldn’t replace my dream with his. We came to an understanding. He would support my skiing one hundred percent, and I’d work full-time for the company after I retire from competition. Until then, I’ll learn about the business and do what I can.”

“And be the face of Guyer Gear?”

Ry nodded. Admitting this to a woman who hated him wasn’t easy, but he felt compelled to continue. He owed Brynn for treating her so badly. She needed to understand that she wasn’t the only skier who had issues. “My parents were only one part of this. I couldn’t see what I was doing to them, my friends, and myself. I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Brynn inhaled, and then she rubbed her lips together.

“Sound a little familiar?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

Ry would take that as a yes.

“My right side was shattered. So was my spirit.” He hated remembering the chaotic mix of emotions and the downward spiral, but he forced himself to continue for Brynn’s sake. “I’d realized how little control I had over what happened. Nothing I did made a difference. I struggled to get through each day and night, overwhelmed with negative thoughts and nightmares. The voices in my head wouldn't shut up. I felt like the sun had vanished, swallowed up by this dark cloud that was never going away.”

“Thunder, lightning, and a downpour of biblical proportions.”

“Exactly.” He leaned against the couch. “I was drenched. Weighted down to the point I wanted to give up.”

Her gaze locked on his.

Something passed between them. Something strong. Something full of energy.

Understanding, perhaps? Yes, that had to be it.

“But you didn’t,” she said finally.

“People wouldn’t let me, but if I’d tried to handle this on my own, I don’t know where I’d be today.” He took a breath. And another. “The drinking got worse. I was on pain meds, too. If I wasn’t drunk, I was high. Sometimes both, and that led to an accidental overdose. I nearly died, but my friend Henry, who I thought I’d pushed away for good, found me. Called for help.”

“Ry…”

“I don’t want your pity.” The words rushed out. He couldn’t help it. “Hitting rock bottom was the best thing that ever happened to me. It was the wake-up call I needed. Otherwise, I’d probably be dead.”

He had to keep talking before he lost his nerve.

“It hasn’t been easy. I’m not on skis yet. But I’m stronger than I was before my crash, both physically and mentally.” He’d said the same thing to friends, family, and doctors, proven himself during workouts with physical therapists and top athletic trainers, but he wouldn’t know if that was true until he was skiing again. Brynn, however, didn’t need to know that. “If I can do this, so can you.”

She flinched. Her lips parted. “Our situations are different. You were trying to live up to your dad’s expectations and then you were critically injured. It’s no wonder you needed to numb yourself with drugs and alcohol. My situation is…personal.”

That was more info than Ry knew when they’d started but still not enough. He didn’t know her, but he wished he did. He touched her shoulder. A show of support, yes, but also a way to feel connected. He needed that. Maybe she did, too.

“I have no idea what’s going on in your life, or what’s messing with your head, but whatever it is, you’re not alone. People care about you. The coaches wouldn't have asked me to come to Sun Valley if they didn’t want you to succeed.”

Her eyes gleamed. “You think?”

Ry swore silently. He hadn’t wanted to make her cry. He squeezed her shoulder. Well, her puffy jacket. “I know.”

She blinked. “To be honest, I don't think anyone can help me, but I wouldn’t want either of us to be in trouble with the coaches.”

Not the resounding yes Ry wanted to hear, but that beat a get lost.

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. “Good, because I’ve been on Coach’s naughty list for too long.”

Her mouth slanted into a slight frown. “You might have a reserved spot. Old habits are difficult to break.”

That was the truth. “I’m working on it.”

“Try harder.”

A coldness settled in his core. Ry got she didn’t like him—Brynn had made that clear—but she didn’t need to be rude about it. He was here to help. Or at the minimum, try. Not an easy task when she wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. “I am.”

Her gaze sharpened before lowering to her shoulder. “You’re still touching me.”

Ry jerked his arm away as if burned by fire. “Sorry.”

And he was. He hadn’t realized his hand was still on her.

Weird. He’d been careful around women since his accident, not wanting them to think he was hitting on them. It had also been a way of keeping himself safe. So far, his resolve to limit distractions had been working. He wanted that to continue, especially with her.

She studied him. “You’re not how I remember.”

“Neither are you.”

“You don’t remember anything about me.”

“I remember you asleep in a chair and you leaving without saying goodbye.” He also recalled her hero worship expression and being attracted to her. “That hurt.”

“You called me Brittany and thought I’d still want to have sex with you.” She leaned away from him. “How do you think I felt?”

Good point. He needed to consider what happened from her point of view. “I may have been a little arrogant.”

“Little isn’t the adjective I’d use.” She didn’t sound amused. “Then or now.”

Brynn wasn’t out to impress him. If anything, she would prefer if he left her alone. Ry appreciated knowing where he stood with her. “One of these days, you’ll say something nice about me.”

“Don’t count on that being soon.”

“It’ll happen.” Ry stretched out his legs. “I told you my story. Tell me yours.”

“Not now.” She placed the peas on the table and put on her boots. “Icing helped, but I need to check in with the trainer. Do a short workout.”

He wasn’t about to let her run away again. “I’ll go with you.”

“Nice of you to offer, but even though you know everyone, without a badge—”

“We’re in luck.” Ry stood, went over to his jacket, and pulled the lanyard from the pocket. “I’m a team assistant this week.”

Her face pinched, full of tension and frustration, as if she’d been expecting to eat an orange but bit into a lemon.

Ry had surprised her. Good, because she kept shocking him. But he would be polite. “Something wrong?”

Her lower lip stuck out in an adorable almost-pout. “No.”

“Then let’s go.”