Page 93 of On the Edge

“Are you suggesting that I went wrongbeforeletting Nate back into my life, orafter?” I ask as I pull a pillow over and hug it to my chest, like it’s armor that might protect me from whatever she’s going to say. My mom is known for being honest, and usually for being right. Somehow, she has always had the ability to help me see things I couldn’t see before.

“I’m not sure,” she says, pulling the blanket around her legs like a cocoon. “But when you told us the story of what happened, the only time you sounded like you were actually okay was when you were with Nate. Otherwise you sounded miserable, like you were faking your way through your own life. With Nate, things soundedreal—real happiness and now real heartache.”

“I was happy,” I admit. “And crazy enough to think this time it could last. And then he left.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Are you asking if he really left?” I watched the recap of his race yesterday in Bormio, so yeah, I know he really left and I’m not sure what my mom is getting at.

“What I mean is, are you sure he’s the one who leftthistime?”

I mean sure, I was the one who left him in Big Sky. I told him I’d talk to him after I’d met with TJ, but by that time he was already back in Europe, having left without telling me.Or was he waiting to tell me when I called him?Was he just giving me the time I’d asked for to deal with this?

Clearly able to see the wheels turning in my head, my mom grabs her mug off the table and takes a sip while she watches me think this through.

“I did leave him in Big Sky,” I tell her. “But I told him I’d let him know how my conversation with TJ went, and by then TJ had told me he was already on a plane back to Europe. Mom, he left me. Again.”

“Have you heard his side of the story?” she asks, her voice kind but probing.

“No, have you?”

“Of course not. But there are always two sides to every story—as you should well know by now—and maybe hearing his would clear a few things up. Or maybe it wouldn’t, and you’d be right where you are now. But at least you’d know for sure.Nottalking to Nate when things like this happen has never solved anything.”

She’s right, I know. But my pride is so hurt that the thought of being the one to call him is a bitter pill to swallow. He should have called to tell me he was going to Europe, like I told him I was going back to Park City before I left Big Sky.

“Maybe,” I tell her, then take another sip of my tea.

“Maybe you guys can talk when he’s here for New Year’s Eve?”

“Nate’s comingherefor New Year’s Eve?” My voice is practically a scream.

“I’m not supposed to know about that,” she tells me with a wink. “But from what I understand he’s the guest of honor at the ski team’s gala fundraiser.”

The New Year’s Eve gala is new since Nate and I were on the Blackstone ski racing team in high school, and I’ve only ever attended one—the year after my accident when I was home with my parents for the holidays during my grad school Christmas vacation. That year, I was the guest of honor. It’s a cozy affair held in the lodge, which the ski team decorates with thousands of strands of twinkle lights. Tickets are stupid expensive for what the event actually is, but the adults all pay it and dress up and enjoy the night because the money supports the mountain’s race team, so it’s for a good cause.

“He’ll be here in three days?” I clarify.

“Maybe even sooner. I think they have a big meeting the day after tomorrow.”

Oh, so it’s about whatever deal he’s got going on with the board. The one he wouldn’t tell me about—orcouldn’ttell me about. There is a difference, I realize, even though it didn’t feel like there was a difference when I first learned about the secret negotiations.

I consider again what that deal might entail. Probably some sort of real estate development that he’ll own and manage. It’s a smart plan, but I can’t help but wonder what Blackstone is getting out of the deal. Maybe financial relief? I know they’ve been struggling for years as they have to make more and more snow each year as the winter temperatures rise.

“Okay, I’ll think about that.”

“Please do,” my mom says. “You two need to talk, and it’ll be better if you do it in person.”

We finish our tea and Mom decides to take a nap, so she heads to her bedroom while I clean up our cups. I’m in the kitchen when my phone buzzes with a text.

Sierra:You need to listen to this voice mail Nate left me.

There’s an audio file attached to the message. The pain is instant, my heart cracking open and the hurt pouring out. He left my best friend a voice mail, but he can’t be bothered to callme—the woman he said he was willing to drop everything for because nothing he wanted to accomplish in life was worth it if I wasn’t by his side?What a load of crap, I think to myself. He obviously never meant it.

Jackson:He called you???

Sierra:I called him first. Left him a VM reaming him out for what he did, demanding to know why he hurt you again. You obviously haven’t listened to his reply, so DO THAT NOW.

I turn the volume down on my phone so I don’t disturb my mom, then tap Play on the audio file. Nate’s deep voice floods the small kitchen.

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