The only one I’m glad I haven’t heard anything from is Veronika. She has vanished from my life, doing damage control for her reputation. She’s always been good at that, taking anything life throws at her, especially the negative, and turning it into gold. She’s been able to do the same with this situation and has come out on the other side smelling like roses.
But I wasn’t going to take the chance to run into either of them, so I made sure I was in Seattle as little as possible. Which wasn’t that difficult with my profession, since many high-profile events are hosted in Europe.
Neither Bob nor Dakota has been happy with me and my behavior, but they supported me unconditionally. Just like I needed them to. They knew I was on the brink of falling apart and riding was the only activity bringing me joy.
They tried to get me to talk to Kade and Wayne the day after it all happened, but I refused. Maybe one day, when I’m over the devastation their actions left behind, I can talk to my father again, but not now. I ignored all of Bob and Kota’s advice, even the bit I should have heeded. Instead, I ignored them and competed in Las Vegas and had the worst run since I started out competing professionally. I dropped a bar on nearly every jump. Silver could tell I wasn’t focused, couldn’t concentrate on the task at hand, and I failed.
I failed her and myself.
After that disastrous event, I promised myself to never let someone else ruin the one thing I loved.
Between the news breaking of the truth behind both my accidents and my performance in Las Vegas, the media was speculating if my mental health was compromised. Other nasty rumors emerged, which resulted in me being tested for drugs during competitions more than ever before. It wasn’t hard to figure out Destiny was behind those rumors.
But I didn’t care. Not about Destiny and her rumors. Not about the tabloids reporting every shred of gossip they could find. I told myself I didn’t care about anything but competing. So I threw myself into it, blocking out everything else.
Which is how I managed to only be in Seattle two days right before we left the US to attend the Olympic Games. For three months, I never stopped. I successfully avoided everything that would remind me of Montana and what was so cruelly ripped from me.
“Montana,” Dakota runs in, yelling my name. I smile, happy my best friend, although she narrowly missed being nominated for the Games, is here with me for support.
I turn to take in her excitement. “Did you see this building? Like, every athlete competing for the US is somewhere in this building—the best of the best.” She beams at me in glee. I wish I could feel the same joy she does at being here, but instead it only reminds me of the fact that I wanted to get here for the sole purpose of impressing my father. Now I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. “And you’re one of them. I can’t believe I’m here to experience it with you.”
“Next time you’ll be here as an athlete yourself.”
She only shrugs, unperturbed at the narrow loss, just basking in the excitement of being here. I imagine her mood has also a lot to do with Mav, and I couldn’t be happier for them. Even if part of me hurts every time she gets that goofy look on her face thinking of him. And I have to admit I like him. He’s a good man. Even my cynical, bitter heart can admit to that.
“Anyway, enough moping around. We have an opening ceremony to get to.” When her eyes travel down my body they widen in shock. “And you’re not even dressed yet. Jesus, Montana.”
I wish I could shrug her off, like I have been doing recently, but I can’t—not this time. Attending the Olympics, representing my country, comes with responsibilities, and some of them include me smiling and waving at the crowd dressed like every other American athlete.
“I know. I got distracted.”
“With what? Staring out the window reminiscing over the past like some nostalgic heroine in a historical romance before she throws herself dramatically on the bed?”
I chuckle at her joke. Sometimes, in my grief, I forget just how entertaining my best friend can be. “I haven’t planned on quite that many dramatics, but I can always give it a try.”
Without a word, she stomps toward my open suitcase, her annoyance clear in her gait. “Seriously, Mon. You need to start checking in, or you’ll miss an amazing experience that might never happen again.”
Her words hit too close to home. I know I’ve been absent lately, but I can’t help it that my mind wanders more often than not. I don’t know how to stop myself from doing it, either. I don’t know how to get out this hole I dug for myself.
“I know, Kota, I’m sorry,” I concede as she throws the uniform I’m supposed to wear at me and moves to leave our room. “You have fifteen minutes to be downstairs or the vans are leaving without you,” she tells me before closing the door behind her.
The door slams shut behind her, the sound reverberating through the otherwise silent room. I feel like the silence is closing in on me, like her words and the finality of the door closing have finally lifted some of the fog that has surrounded me for too long.
It’s time I start participating
