Page 151 of Just Let Go

Grady took another drink, an attempt to regain his composure, but the memory was too great. He’d taken his skis off and ran up the side of the hill. Benji lay there, writhing in pain.

“I can’t move, Gray,” he’d said. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Grady still sometimes heard the sound of Benji’s wailing on the nights he couldn’t sleep.

“I raced back down the hill to find help. They had to airlift him out. My dad took one look at me and knew it’d been my idea—my fault—and now Benji was never gonna walk again.” He rubbed his temples, willing the dull ache to go away.

“He’d pinned all of his hopes and dreams on Benji, and with one stupid decision, I stole them.” Grady studied the ceiling. “I don’t think my father has ever forgiven me.” The look on his dad’s face told him as much. From that day on, the disappointment was always there, looming somewhere in the background, even when Grady won a big race or had a major breakthrough on the slopes. It had never been enough. It would never be enough. Because it was all supposed to have been Benji, and because of Grady, it never would be.

“Oh, Grady,” Quinn whispered.

Another swipe across his traitorous eyes. “Thing is, Benji has never blamed me. He let me off the hook the very next day, right after he found out he was never going to ski again. ‘It was my choice to follow you out there,’ he told me. ‘I did this to myself.’”

Finally, Grady met Quinn’s eyes. “But itwasmy fault. It was my stupid idea, and I knew we weren’t supposed to ski back there. And Benji—he was good. They were talking Olympics for him when he was only fifteen. It was all he ever wanted. All my dad ever wanted.”

His eyes found the ceiling again. “So I promised him I’d bring home the gold. For both of us.”

“That’s why you won’t retire,” she said, her voice quiet.

He nodded slowly. “I can’t quit yet. I’ve still got stuff to do. For Benji.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “Grady, it was an accident. And you were just a kid.”

“I was old enough to know better.” How could she not see that? He stood and walked to the other side of the room. “Besides, you can’t tell me you’ve just let go of everything that happened with your mom.”

“I’m working on that.” Her voice was quiet, and he could see the hurt behind her eyes. He cautioned himself not to wound her, not to mess this up the way he messed up every other good thing in his life.

“But you can’t just snap your fingers and make it go away. You of all people should understand that.”

She stood and faced him. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what, Quinn? What do you want me to do?”

“It’s been how many years? Isn’t it time to forgive yourself?”

He faced her. “I don’t deserve to just go on with my life like everything is fine.”

Her eyes locked on to his. “You don’t deserve to be happy? Is that what you think?”

“That’s what I know.”

Something like realization washed over her face. “It all makes sense now.”

“What does?”

“Why you sabotage yourself. Why you pick fights with people and rebel against your coaches.” She studied him. “You don’t think you deserve the good things in your life.”

“That’s just stupid,” he said.

“Then why haven’t you forgiven yourself?” Her eyes pleaded with him.

“Some things aren’t forgivable. Your mom leaving—that’s unforgivable. Me causing my brother’s accident—that’s unforgivable.”

She stilled. “I don’t think so, Grady.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” He turned a circle, raking his hand through his hair. “Just go.”

“What?” He could hear the confusion in her voice.

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