Chapter 3
893 Words
Ethan had been right about one thing. Gold really could ward off evil.
Unfortunately, it could protect me from bad luck, but not from a heart that had already changed.
"This year's gold medal is yours, Vivian."
I frowned and clutched my head. The impact must have been worse than I thought. I was starting to hallucinate.
Ethan had cut the comms. He did not want to say another word to me. But a second later, static crackled through my earpiece.
Somehow, my channel had crossed into Vivian's coaching line.
"Ethan, you're so good to me," Vivian said, her voice light and deliberately playful. "Aren't you afraid Sienna will find out?"
"What is there to be afraid of?" Ethan's voice remained terrifyingly calm. "She's already crashed out. That right shoulder is probably ruined. Whether she ever races again is anyone's guess."
I began to shake uncontrollably.
"By the time she wakes up, she probably won't even remember what happened," he continued. "How would she ever trace it back to me?"
His words brought the pain crashing back. A sharp, searing ache spread through every inch of my body.
I lay in the snow, barely able to move. Every breath sent jagged pain tearing through my fractured right shoulder.
I clutched my chest, because that was where it hurt the most. The pain was so intense that my mind went blank, and tears spilled out before I could stop them.
Soon, the rescue helicopter arrived. The team medic jumped down and rushed toward me with a stretcher.
"Sienna Vale! Can you hear me?" the medic shouted. "She has a suspected fracture in her right shoulder and possible head trauma. Immobilize her and transport her immediately."
The medic cut open my racing suit to check my injuries.
But the voice in my earpiece still would not stop.
"When I passed her just now, I saw exactly what shape she was in," Vivian said with a soft laugh. "She looked pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."
Ethan answered in a gentle voice, "That's my queen. Tonight, we're celebrating—your favorite. Molecular gastronomy."
Molecular gastronomy? Since when was it her favorite?
Every victory dinner before this, Ethan had been the one to pick the place. I'd always assumed it was his favorite. Even if the portions left me hungry, I'd smile through it and go along.
When Vivian held her silver medal, I was the one who comforted her and encouraged her in a soft voice.
Because I had believed they were the two most important people in my life.
Whenever that food wrecked my stomach, I would sneak antacids under the table. Ethan would gently pass me a glass of warm water, his brow furrowed with guilt.
"If you can't handle this food, we shouldn't have come," he would say. "Next time I suggest this place, you have to shut me down. Otherwise, I'll feel awful."
I would swallow the pills, wrap my arms around him, and shake my head.
"I love seeing you happy."
Now I finally understood.
No wonder Ethan had barely smiled after my first title, when we celebrated with fondue for dinner. At the time, I convinced myself he was only worried about my form.
After my second title, he suggested molecular gastronomy again. That night, he smiled more brightly than he ever had for any of my victories.
Even though Vivian had only taken silver that year, she sat across from us, savoring her caviar with effortless elegance as she smiled at me.
"Sienna, you're amazing," she had said. "I'm going to work hard so I can catch up to you."
So Ethan's happiness had never been for me. I had been such an i***t, foolish enough to believe every word he said.
"Sienna, I'll be your coach and your eyes for the rest of your life. You'll always be my queen. Watching you fly down the mountain is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I want to spend my life watching you shine. Will you marry me?"
The pain was unbearable.
The team medic was splinting my right shoulder, and the moment he fixed the bone in place, the pain nearly made me bite through my tongue.
The stretcher was already waiting beside me.
They were about to load me onto the helicopter when Ethan's voice came through my earpiece again. This time, his tone made my stomach turn.
"Vivian, from now on, no one can stand in your way," he said. "There is only one queen of the slopes. You. And when you stand on that podium with the flag over your shoulders, I have a surprise for you."
The medic was lifting the stretcher toward the helicopter.
I stopped moving. A second later, I ripped the earpiece out and hurled it into the snow.
Then I pushed past the medic, grabbed my skis, and stumbled back toward the course.
Behind me, someone pounded on the helicopter door and shouted, "Sienna! Your injuries are critical! You need immediate medical transport! Withdraw from the race!"
My face was blank. I pulled my goggles back on.
With only my left hand, the only hand that still worked, I gripped my ski pole through the splintering agony in my shoulder.
Then I pushed back onto the course.
'Vivian. Ethan. You think you can beat me on snow? Maybe in your next life.'
- Writer
