Shredded (35 page)

It’s a big promise—a huge one, really—but for the first time in over a decade, I’ve found someone to believe in. Someone to believe. It’s more than I ever thought I’d have, and for now … for now, it’s more than enough.

Epilogue

Z

“You’ve got this, baby.”

“I know.” I smile at Ophelia, lean down so she can give me a kiss for luck. It’s the last day of the Dew tour, the first of three Olympic qualifying events. I’m the top-ranked boarder going into the finals, with Ash ranked third and Luc ranked tenth.

Cam just finished the women’s final with a third-place ranking, so to say we’re all a little excited would probably be an understatement. Ophelia’s at least as excited as the rest of us, maybe even more. I know she’s certainly more nervous. Not that I blame her. I think there will always be a part of her that’s waiting for me to mess up. Then again, I could just be projecting my own shit onto her.

I nearly laugh at the thought. After spending so many years trying to stay out of my own head, now I’m voluntarily diving in, thanks to Ophelia—and to the damn shrink she’s talked me into seeing once a week. It’s not easy, and I fucking suck at talking about my feelings and shit. But still, I’m trying. For Ophelia. And maybe, just maybe, for me, too.

I give her another kiss, this one more because I can’t keep my hands off her than because I think I need luck. At first I think she’s going to duck away—a million or so people are watching us, after all—but not my girl. Instead of pulling back, she wraps her arms around me and kisses me for all she’s worth. Her body melts into mine, her breasts press against my chest, and suddenly the run I need to throw down in a few minutes is the last thing on my mind.

“Z. We need to go.” Ash’s voice barely penetrates.

I tangle my hands in Ophelia’s hair, tilt her head back so that I can deepen the kiss. She tastes as sweet as ever—a mixture of the ever-present peaches and the caramel-flavored coffee she just finished.

I slide my tongue along hers and she moans, her arms tightening around my neck until our bodies are pressed as tightly together as they can get.

“Okay, seriously.” Behind me, Ash clears his throat. “We need to get up there.”

I’m still not listening, but Ophelia sighs, pulls away. “Go,” she says, pushing me toward the lift. “Do a bunch of turns and stuff.”

“Really? Still with that?” I shake my head. It’s embarrassing, really, how little she knows about snowboarding. I’m definitely going to have to do something about that.

“What do you want me to say?” she asks. Before I can answer, she continues, “Oh, right. Have a sick ride. And while you’re at it, I want to see at least one YOLO flip and a triple cork 1260. Got it?”

My mouth drops open. “How did you—”

She just smiles. “I’m dating one of the best snowboarders in the world. The least I could do is learn a little bit about the sport.”

“Yeah, but a YOLO flip? Do you even know what that is?”

“It’s a cab double cork 1440. Which means you get to do a whole lot of those little spinny things you like to do.” She leans forward, drops another kiss on my mouth, then turns around and heads toward the stands.

“You’re just going to walk away?”

She stops, turns back. “I think you’ve got a competition to win, don’t you? And I need to go find Ash’s family.”

“They’re not here yet?” Ash asks, looking surprised as he scans the crowd.

“They probably are. I just haven’t found them yet.”

“Come on, guys. Let’s go.” Luc shoves us toward the magic carpet. “We’ve got shit to do.”

We do. We really do.

With a last wave at Ophelia—yeah, I’m whipped, and no, I don’t give a shit—I climb onto the lift, wait impatiently for it to take us to the top. This time I am not going to choke. I need to prove it to myself as much as I do Ophelia and my friends.

Since I’m ranked first, I’m boarding last, which means I get to watch everyone else go. Jake, the kid from Colorado, throws up a good score, and then Gage, from Taos, comes out of nowhere and blasts straight into first place with a triple cork 1440. He just fucking nails it. Luc throws down a good run, but again, this isn’t his event, so he’s happy when he lands in sixth place.

Then it’s Ash’s turn and his run is flawless. Fucking flawless. He doesn’t pull a 1440, but his 1260s are perfect and he slides right past Gage into first.

Then it’s my turn. The pressure isn’t totally on yet. I have one more run in case I fuck this one up—we all do—but I want to nail it so bad I can taste it. I scan the crowd in the stands, find Ophelia’s silly pink-and-purple-striped hat.

That little glimpse is all I need, the extra bit of reassurance that settles nerves I never knew I had and gets me down to business. I shove off and jump onto the top of the dumpster they’ve got set up for us to ride. I spin off that, hit the ramp into a solid double back rodeo. The landing’s perfect, and I coast backward down two sets of rails, adding in a little flip at the bottom of the second one for the hell of it.

I can hear the crowd cheering, but I can barely hear it above the adrenaline rush. I’ve got this. I can feel it in my fucking boots. I’ve got this.

I hit the second ramp, pull off a nice little triple cork 1260 for my girl, do another rail, and push my speed as I head into the big ramp that marks the end of the run. I hit it hard, grab decent air, and that’s when I bust out with the YOLO flip. For a second, just a second, I think I’m not going to land it. That this has all been a dream and I’m going to fuck it up like I’ve fucked up so many other things.

But then Ophelia’s face flashes in front of me, her eyes shining a bright, bright emerald, and I know that it’s all real. That it’s all good.

I land like a dream, then coast down to the bottom of the hill as the crowd goes crazy.

Ash and Luc are waiting for me at the rope line, and they fucking jump on me the second I’m clear. “Holy shit!” Ash screams. “Holy shit!”

“You did it!” Luc yells. “You fucking did it!”

“The score’s not in yet.” But it doesn’t matter. It’s going to be good. We all know it. I barged that run. I fucking barged it.

Instinctively I turn toward the stands, searching for Ophelia. She and Cam are battling their way through the crowd trying to get to me. The commentators are saying something, but all I can hear is my girl screaming my name.

She gets to me just as the score is announced. It’s perfect. A perfect fucking score.

I won.

Holy shit. I won. Everyone has one more shot, but there hasn’t been another perfect score this whole competition. I fucking won this shit.

The crowd is going nuts, and so are we—Luc and Ash, Cam and Ophelia. I try to maintain just a little bit of swagger, but it’s no use. I can’t stop smiling. I don’t think I’m fooling anybody, and you know what? For the first time, I don’t care. Nothing has ever felt this good.

My girl is in my arms.

My friends are all around me.

And there is a perfect fucking score on that board up there.

If I never have another day like this, it’ll be okay. Because I have this moment and that’s everything.

My phone rings, but I ignore it. Nothing and no one is as important as right now.

“We’ve got to go,” Luc says after a couple of minutes, when my phone rings a second time. “We’ve got to get back up there before we’re all DQ’d.”

“I know, I know,” I tell him, then lean down and kiss Ophelia one more time.

“Thank you,” I whisper against her lips. “Thank you for giving me this.”

She shakes her head and cups my face in her hands as tears roll down her face. Before
she can say anything, though, Ash grabs me by the collar and pulls me toward the lift. “Later,” I mouth to her.

She nods, her smile so big and bright that I’m nearly blinded by it.

We’re almost at the magic carpet when Ash’s phone rings. “It’s probably Mitch,” he says as he reaches for it. “Wanting to congratulate you since you won’t answer your phone.”

But he looks confused when he sees the number.

“Who is it?” I ask, suddenly feeling uneasy, though I don’t know why.

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t answer. If it’s important, they’ll call back.”

But it’s too late. He’s already dragging the phone open. “Hello?”

He doesn’t say anything else for long seconds, but his face slowly drains of color.

“Ash? Man? What’s wrong?”

Luc crowds in, too, looking as worried as I feel.

He doesn’t answer, but the phone slips from his grasp and hits the ground, hard. Seconds later he does the same thing.

“What the fuck?” I glance at Luc, but he’s as baffled as I am.

“Ash?” I say again as I crouch down next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“My family,” he croaks.

“What?”

“Accident on the way up here. Logan’s in surgery and my mom and dad … My mom and dad are dead.”

Don’t miss Ash’s story

Shattered

Coming soon from Flirt

For my mom

Acknowledgments

As always, I have so many people to thank for this book. Sue Grimshaw, who is an amazing editor and who I, quite simply, adore. Thank you so much for putting up with all my whining and delaying when it came to Z—I hope it was all worth it in the end.

Thanks to Gina Wachtel and everyone over at Random House, especially the art department (I know I was a huge pain about this cover—thank you, thank you, thank you) for your support and excitement about my books. It means the world to me.

Thanks to Emily Sylvan Kim, intrepid agent and brainstorm partner extraordinaire. You are wonderful.

Thanks to Shellee Roberts, Emily McKay, Sherry Thomas, and Julie Kenner for all the brainstorming help/handholding that went into me actually getting this book on the page. You’re the bestest friends a girl could ever ask for.

Thanks to my mom who always comes down to help me manage the craziness that is my life just when I need her most. Love you, Mom. You’re the best!

And finally, thank you to my guys, whom I love more than I can ever say. I am grateful every day for the chance to be your mom.

B
Y
T
RACY
W
OLFF

Full Exposure
Tie Me Down

Ethan Frost Novels

Ruined

An Extreme Risk Novel

Shredded

TRACY WOLFF lives in Texas and teaches writing at her local community college. She is married and the mother of three young sons.

www.tracywolff.com/press_kit/

Read on for an excerpt from

Third Degree

by Julie Cross

Available from Flirt

@IsabelJenkinsMD:
Got another medical myth to debunk for you today.

@IsabelJenkinsMD:
Myth—humans only use 10% of our brains.

@IsabelJenkinsMD:
This very inaccurate theory is most likely the result of some pseudo-psychologist from 1900 trying to employ motivational tactics

@IsabelJenkinsMD:
in his/her patients on the order of “it’s physically impossible for bees to fly” so let’s all be inspired to do the impossible.

@IsabelJenkinsMD:
The bee flight issue has recently been clarified and there is now a scientific explanation.

“It’s diabetes.”

Justin taps his fingers on the receptionist’s desk outside the lab. “The kid’s been in the ER five minutes and you have a diagnosis. Bullshit.”

I flash Justin a grin so I can keep from grinding my teeth. I don’t hate him. That would require a level of caring that we never reached. I loathe him. Him and his smaller-than-average penis. “He’s been here at least an hour, especially if you factor in the time in the waiting room.”

“Why do you do that?” Justin snaps. “You know what I meant by five minutes. I know you did. You’re stalling because you don’t really have specific reasons to believe it’s diabetes. You’ve done some freakish statistics in your head and odds are in favor of diabetes.”

Idiot
. “And this is exactly why physical intimacy is all we were ever good at.”

Justin’s eyebrows lift up. “Physical intimacy is all
you
were good at, Isabel.”

Okay, so that stings. Not because I care what that stupid prodigy (though, if we’re getting technical, I started med school much younger than he) thinks, but more that I’m secretly petrified he’s right and the label will haunt me wherever I go. But the intern mantra,
Show no fear
, plays in my head a few times, giving me a surge of confidence. “Oh, so you admit that I’m good in bed?”

A flicker of regret flashes across his face, but like me, he knows the mantra. “I don’t recall any beds being involved. Floors, yes. A couple of walls.”