Page 79 of The Groupie

He smiles and, in that moment, I let go of my anger and he’s nothing but my coach, a long-time mentor and maybe even a friend. But it’s my turn now and I snap my focus to the halfpipe as I slide into place.

Staring down at the steep incline I see the culmination of all my dreams knowing if I nail this run, I have a shot at the gold. Gathering every ounce of my determination and strength and feeling all the positive karma from the people I love, Suzie, Mamma and especially Zak, I jump in. I nail the first backside 1080 and feel invincible.

But the thing about invincibility is that it doesn’t exist. My board catches the top of the pipe, an extra chunk of ice, a nick from a previous run, an extra bump of slush from the sun, I don’t know. Whatever it is, it knocks me off my rotation and my second 1080 goes off course. I lose my orientation and land heavy on my heels.

I don’t know if it’s the pain that’s worse, or the knowledge that the run is ruined and with it my chance to advance. But when I try to stand, unclipping my board, I get my answer, because I immediately fall in a heap, the sharp pain in my ankle shouting at me that this is the real thing.

This is a level three sprain, a tear, and I’m not competing again for a while. No big air event.

Standing on the podium for my bronze medal in the halfpipe, even on crutches, feels amazing enough to wipe out the disappointment of my fall. As soon as the music stops and I step from the podium, what dominates my mind and has me feeling that same bundle of nerves as I did before the final round, is Zak and the need to see him and make things right.

Since I won’t be competing in the Big Air event, I’m given the option to stay and watch as a cheerleader for my team, or to go home early. I opt to take the next flight home.

During the flight, the constant mantra plays in my head that I need to see Zak. I need to erase that picture of his heartbroken face from my mind and replace it with his natural joyful expression, the giant happy smile and lighthearted air that he exudes. because I need it.

On the way home, I catch up with email from Mamma and Suzie. They’re worried about my injury and I let them know the doc in Italy told me it was a level three sprain, a complete tear, and I need to keep off it and be strict about helping it heal. Everyone around me expects that I’ll be a professional about it and do everything I’m supposed to do, heal and come back to the circuit as the next badass U.S. woman snowboarder. Of course I will, if that’s what I decide, but right now, I can’t even think about that.

I google hockey news to find out about Zak, ignoring the reports about his altercation. I find out he had a killer game and has been playing well and that makes me smile, but it also unsettles me. Trepidation that maybe he’s moved on, that I’m too late and I pushed him too far has me more on edge than I’ve been since the group home with Suzie and I pushed Mamma to take us both.

I took a chance then and it worked out to be the best thing I ever did. I’m not going to let the fear that’s threatening now keep me from taking this chance I have with Zak. Because I think it could be another one of those best things I ever do.

That Mamma and Suzie might disown me if I don’t throw myself at Zak’s feet has nothing to do with my decision, but it doesn’t hurt in giving me much needed confidence to overcome the snowball size glob of emotion lodged in my throat as I take the taxi ride to his condo.

Suzie sends me a text and I read it before I pull myself from the cab, backpack in place and crutches in hand.

Since when doesn’t Rylee fucking Flynn go for the fucking brass ring?

Since never.

After a brief chat with security in the lobby, I ride the elevator up to his floor and find myself standing at his door on crutches. A wave of dizziness hits me and I stiffen my spine.

Fear isn’t going to stop me now, not even the fear of rejection by a man who has gotten so far under my skin now I don’t want to know what I’d do without him.

Balancing on one crutch, my heart pounding dangerously, skittering up into my throat, I raise my fist and pound on his door.