Page 29 of On the Edge

This time there are tears rolling down my face as the waves of pleasure roll through me. What Nate and I shared—not just the extraordinary physical connection, but the way we felt about each other—I just don’t think I’ll ever feel that way about anyone again.

Don’t be ridiculous, a voice inside my head says as I pull my shirt back down and find the underwear I don’t remember removing.You’re only feeling this way because you’re around him all the time.And that may be true. I mean, I wasn’t fantasizing about Nate and getting myself off to visions of us having sex before he showed back up in my life. Of course, I can’t remember the last time I had an orgasm like any of the three I’ve had in the last twelve hours.

But how can I possibly be so attracted to him after everything he put me through?

On the other side of the bathroom door I hear the shower go on, and I glance at the clock. It’s 5:30 a.m. Nate’s still an early riser.

I’m overcome by the desperate need to get out of here, away from him—to put as much distance between us as possible. I climb out of bed and quietly pull on the leggings and sweatshirt I wore here, throw my pajama pants and phone into the bag I brought, and open the door to the suite. As I expected, the living room is empty as I sneak across it and slide on the snow boots I left at the entry. I shut the door behind me as quietly as possible.

* * *

The cab ride back to my condo proves to be a productive mental exercise. I arrive home having concluded that my dream was brought on by last night’s apology, which I desperately I needed to hear. While he didn’t apologize for everything or even explain why he just left like that and never came back, obviously knowing that he was sorry and regretted at least some of his choices softened my attitude toward him enough to let my subconscious take over. Which, if I want to protect myself from getting hurt like he hurt me before, can’t happen again.

Since I can’t get out of training him and still keep my job, I need to enact an exit plan, stat. The text I receive from my dad after turning on my gas fireplace reaffirms my decision.

Dad:The doctor just called with the results of the PET scan. It’s not good. Small cancerous tumors on gallbladder and liver. Starting chemo next week. Then they’ll reassess and maybe remove part of the liver.

I sit down on my kitchen floor, trying to process what this means. Mom’s cancer has spread. Despite over a decade of gene therapy to repress the cancer, it’s started to grow and is creeping into other organs. And the fact that it’s in both the gallbladder and liveris catastrophic. The liver has always been the worst case scenario because the survival rates are extremely low.

Jackson:I’m so sorry, Dad. Do you want me to come home? I can take medical leave and be there to help out.

Of course I just used up all my vacation time going to Italy. Of. Freaking. Course. That’s okay, I can sublet out my condo, do a seasonal rental or something, and go home for the next few months if they need me. I have savings I can fall back on if I need to.

Dad:Honestly, there’s nothing you can do if you’re here. It’s a lot of sitting around and waiting. Now that I’m retired, I have nothing but time on my hands.

Jackson:Okay, but if you change your mind and need me there, just ask. I will drop everything and come home. I want to be there.

Dad:I know you will, honey. But it’s not necessary. Not now, at least. We’ll see you at Thanksgiving, as planned.

Jackson:Have you told Beau this is going on?

Dad:I haven’t really heard from him in months. Guess I’ll need to call him with this news.

Mentally, I curse my brother for being so absent. I know he and my dad have some issues, but he’s always been so close to Mom.

Jackson:Let me know how *that* conversation goes. And if you need anything from me, call or text any time.

Dad:I will.

Jackson:Can I call and talk to Mom, or does she not want to talk about this yet?

Dad:Definitely give her a call, but maybe later tonight because she has an important meeting with a new client today.

Jackson:Okay, I’ll call her after work. Love you!

Dad:Love you too. Have a good day.

I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my forehead on them, letting the tears come. How has everything gone to shit so quickly? A month ago, things were perfect. I had an amazing job that I loved doing every single day, my relationship with Marco wasn’t being threatened by the return of my ex-boyfriend, and my parents were living their dream retirement up at Blackstone, with my dad spending his time on the board of directors for the mountain and my mom taking on the occasional interior design project as a creative outlet.

Mom’s diagnosis is the confirmation I need that this is the right time to leave my job, but cutting myself off from the National Ski Team feels like severing a limb. It’s one thing to contemplate it as a future decision, like I was just a few days ago, but entirely another to be ready to implement an immediate change.

But if I need to go home for any reason, I can do that more easily from here if I’m just taking on private PT clients. If I were in Europe or Asia on the World Cup circuit, it would be much harder to get home, and unfair to leave Nate in a situation without a PT.

I ignore the texts that start coming in from Nate, asking where I am and why I left, and snuggle under a blanket. With the fire blazing, it’s not as cold as I thought it would be. I should have just slept here last night instead of going to that hotel with Nate. I don’t know what I was thinking at the time; no mac and cheese is worth this shame and regret.

My phone keeps buzzing with text and phone alerts, so I dump it on my couch and get out my yoga mat and bands. In the few minutes it takes me to set that up, I’ve got six missed text messages, and a voice mail. I don’t bother checking them because I don’t want to talk to Nate. In fact, I don’t want to see him, either. The only people I really want to see and talk to right now are my parents.

I shoot off a text message to TJ letting him know I’m not feeling well and am going to stay home sick today. Then I turn my phone off.

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