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My mom died in a car accident the year she qualified for Team USA. The roads were icy that day and the other driver lost control of their car.
The man’s head snaps up, and cinnamon-tinted eyes take me in from behind his glasses. His dark brown eyebrows furrow as he stands and removes his glasses. Holy hell. My mouth dries out while another place gets a different memo. He’s tall, at least 6’4, and let’s just say he looks like he’s well-acquainted with the weights at the gym. His ball cap sits atop brown hair that curls slightly at the ends. I get the sudden urge to run my hands through it. No, dammit.
Forget men, crush the volleyball over the net. That’s my motto for the year.
He kind of intimidates me because I equally want to ride him, while also flipping him the bird.
I haven’t had any interaction above anything platonic with a girl since Layla, my high school girlfriend. That was a whopping seven years ago.
My father was an abusive alcoholic. It started when I was nine, the year after Lexa was born with spina bifida.
Number one—never fight or drink.
Number two—stay focused on school and graduate with no distractions.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned since my mom passed, it’s to make time for those who matter as much as possible. Because you never know when you won’t be able to.
She’s slowly starting to become a code I want to crack. A series of numbers out of order that I want to put back in their proper place to function again.
“You just have so many different sides to you, you know? You dress super girly, but you’re also an athlete who loves to wear sweats. You nerd out over superheroes, but you also love to be outside and away from technology. You love to draw and be soft, but pretend you aren’t.”
Aurora freezes, her bottom lip parting from the top. Her eyes widen in awe like she’s just seen fireworks for the first time. “Is that a smile, Fields? You just fulfilled condition two.”
“I’m 25 and still in school because I delayed coming to university to support my mom after we sent my dad to jail.”
No, no, no. This is not good. He can’t do this to my poor, secretly hopeless romantic heart. This man. This sweet, kind, caring man. He remembered my favorite food combination and got me a heated stuffed cupcake, which I told him is what my dad calls me. What a goddamn sweetheart.
She’s Aurora fucking Vallacourt, for Christ’s sake. Who’s sworn off dating and is so far out of my league that I can’t even tell you which one it is.
“If you get all of them right, I’ll bring you a slice of cake tomorrow from the cafe that you like,” Cameron says, convincing me to sit up a little straighter.
Our friendship has become this pure, wholesome thing, reminding me how important it is to keep it that way. No matter how much my heart screams at me to cross that line.
It all seems to happen in slow motion. She closes her eyes and she falls to the ground with a thud. Fuck. No, please, no.
“Not a chance. Let’s go.” I walk toward her, then crouch so I’m at her level. “I’m giving you a piggyback ride. No walking for you.”
I like her. I really fucking like her. And not as a friend. It’s more than that. So. Much. More.
Why does this hurt so much? Why can’t I tell him I wanted him to kiss me? But I also don’t know how to deal with the intense feelings he gives me.
There’s something primal about knowing I can have something no one else can from him.
“I also told you that I would if I found someone who was worth it and, love, you surpass that. It’s me who doesn’t feel worthy of you. But I’m willing to try. Let me, please?”
“Promise me? Promise me that no matter what happens, we won’t lose sight of us, nor our dreams,”
This job is still important to me, but so is Aurora, and I’ll do anything it takes to keep her and get the job. It’s a balancing act, but I’m confident I can do it because when you want something bad enough, nothing will stand in your way.
I want her to have a piece of me that no one else has, just like she has my heart like no other has.
Despite my weak attempt at keeping her at a distance, I love the hell out of Aurora Vallacourt.
I open the box, and my hand flies to my mouth at the white gold necklace, a circular pendant hanging off of it. There’s an intricate design of a marigold flower, which I know is his birth month flower—October 18th.
“Rory, you’re not hearing me. There’s nothing that could take me away from you. Where you go, I go. My job can be remote. I want to cheer you on along the way and watch with pride as they place a gold medal around your neck in two years. And with even more pride when I place something gold around your finger one day.”
As much as he likes to give me crap and tease me about being in love, he’s the biggest simp. If I’m a cinnamon roll, he’s an ice cream sundae with all the fixings.
“Rory?” Cameron’s voice crackles, the signal weak. “Cam, I’m at Emerald Lake, and it’s raining. I-I’m scared about making it down the mountain,” my voice shakes. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Stay there and wait for me. I’m coming for you. Don’t walk and get yourself hurt.”
“Rory, if you play and get hurt even more, you can kiss that dream goodbye for good. Just tell them what happened, and we will figure something out. I promise.” “Cam, don’t ask me not to follow my dreams. You know better than anyone why I need to do this,” I plead, a tear strolling down my cheek.
“Rory, I love you. I need you to know that because you have no idea how goddamn hard it is to walk away from you right now, but I have to,” he says, turning on his heel, walking out of my room.
“Your mother is proud of the person you are, the woman you’ve become. And I say this in the present tense because I know it’s true. She’s looking down on you every day with that larger-than-life smile because of who you are.
“As soon as I walked into the airport, I came right back out. There is nothing in life that will fulfill me the way you do. I couldn’t leave you, not like this.” My sweet man. My heart thuds in my chest while butterflies swarm my stomach.
“You can’t get rid of me, ever. I love you, and there’s nothing in this fucking world that could keep me from you unless you asked.”
“I’m ready to start our life together, Rory. Which means you’re my family, too. I’m already away from them. What’s a couple more miles? Plus, if I get the position, I can fly us to them whenever we feel like it. So, what’s your decision?”
“I accepted a position on Team USA. The contract will last for the next two years with a possible extension, depending on my performance throughout the years and at the Olympics. I’m going to get you there, Mom. But if for some reason I can’t, I hope you know that I tried. God, did I ever try my hardest.
I bend down, pressing the gold medal into the tattoo on my inner ankle, whispering to myself, “We made it, Mom. We fucking made it.”
