Page 46 of On the Edge

“I’m not ashamed,” he says, leveling me with a chastising look that has me regretting my word choice. “But if I come out, then people will put two and two together and Christian will be outed as well. His family would disown him.”

“So, you’ll just live this lie indefinitely?”

“I need to keep it a secret while I’m still racing, because if the media gets ahold of this info it will be really bad for Christian. In the meantime, Christian is hoping his family comes to accept that this isn’t a huge sin, that it just is what it is. And this fake relationship,” he says, gesturing between us, “this works for you too,Bella. As long as you assure them there’s no conflict of interest, your team can’t be mad that you foundtrue love.” He puts the two words in air quotes with a smirk that would have any other girl fanning herself. “And you can focus on your career without the pressures of dating or the speculation that you’restillnot over Nate.”

I sink back in my chair, glad I was already sitting when he hit me with the low blow. Because, as crazy as this sounds, he’s right. The longer I go without seriously dating someone, the more the rumors spread that I still haven’t moved on from Nate. I mean, you’d think the rumor mill would be small because the number of people still interested in a has-been skier and her ex-boyfriend, over four years after their breakup, shouldn’t be large.

Yet it’s always there. In interviews about my career, the questions about Nate are inevitable. Every time one of my sponsors runs a new ad campaign featuring me, the comments are there on social media. Last year I dated a pro soccer player for a hot second, and the instant we broke up the sports media were posting ridiculous stories about how we broke up because I wasn’t over my ex-boyfriend. Really, the guy was just a terrible chauvinist and I was over it.

Me and Nate, we’re like a breakup story the sports world just can’t let go of until they get to the bottom of it, even years later. And I get it. They want to know what happened, why he left, and where he went. Hell, for a long time I wanted to know too. Now I just want to put it behind me. And this might be my opportunity for a clean break. No more speculation about me and Nate, just moving forward with Marco. He’s right, this would be mutually beneficial.

And besides, the thing he hasn’t said—because he would never say it—is that I owe him. After the accident that ended my career, Marco was the one who was there for me. He flew out to Boston and stayed with me at my parents’ house during the off-season, while I was in rehab learning to walk again after having my pelvis bolted together in three places. He stepped in where Nate should have stepped up. Marco was there for me through every step of my recovery and in the years since. I’ve cried on his shoulder more times than I can count.

I can do this for him.

CHAPTER13

NATE

Levi, Finland

Huge parties where everyone is wasted are a lot less fun when you don’t drink. The antics of my teammates, their families, and all our combined sports staff were amusing for the first hour or two. But now that it’s getting on 11:00 p.m., it’s already old. Or maybe I’m just old.

“Davenport!” Jeff slurs as he slides up to me. He wobbles his landing, bumping his shoulder against mine and spilling some of his drink onto the floor.

“Big celebration for you, old man,” I say, slinging an arm around his shoulder to hold him steady. He’s going to hurt tomorrow. But he’s celebrating a top ten finish in addition to his thirtieth birthday.

“Old man, pfft.” He tries to roll his eyes, but his whole head moves with them and I wonder if he’s making himself dizzy. “How old are you?”

“Still twenty-nine for a while,” I assure him.

“Okay, so before your thirtieth are you going to lock shit down with Jackson finally?” He’s practically yelling, but luckily with the music blasting I don’t think anyone else can hear him.

“We talked about this, Jeff.”In other words, shut the hell up.

“Oh, yeah, your top secret classified plan.” Even in his inebriated state, his voice is mocking and his lack of discretion is pissing me off.

“It won’t be top secret if you don’t shut your mouth about it,” I growl. But he’s too drunk to care that I’m annoyed.

I glance around the room looking for Jackson. She’s been hard to miss in that sexy as hell flapper dress she’s wearing. As far as dresses go, it’s fairly conservative with its high scooped neck and cap sleeves, but it’s very sheer and it’s short if you don’t count the fringe that hangs to her knees. It hugs her body too perfectly for me to be capable of looking away.

Unfortunately, she’s stuck so close to Sierra all night that I haven’t had a chance to get her alone for even a second. But at least Marco’s not here with her. He came up to me after the event today, congratulating me on my finish and earning my first World Cup points. I wanted to strangle him, because the thought of him with Jackson does that to me, but there were cameras all around us. Instead I shook his hand.

“You’re looking for her right now, aren’t you?” Jeff asks.

Either he’s not as drunk as I thought, or he’s an astute drunk who won’t remember any of this tomorrow. Either way, I neither confirm nor deny his accusation.

“Just saw her heading up to the second floor ...” he says, tilting his chin at the various balconies that overlook the dance floor of this very small nightclub attached to our hotel.

“Okay.” I shrug as if this information is useless to me.

“Alone.”

Oh. In my head I’m plotting how to get up there and find her, hopefully without Sierra seeing me and coming at me like a fucking bulldog. She’s way too overprotective of Jackson and always has been.

“Moving on,” Jeff says as he breaks out from under my arm. Dude’s definitely unsteady on his feet as he walks away, but he’s clearly sober enough to know what he’s doing by providing me this tip.

I take a moment to glance up at the second level and that’s when I see her leaning against the gilded wall of the balcony closest to the stage. She’s almost entirely out of view, and this couldn’t be a better place for us to finally have a private conversation. I turn and head toward the stairs quickly, hoping nobody notices me leaving.

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