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I blow out a breath,knowing I can’t just up and leave this weekend, as much as I might want to. And even though the next seven days are going to feel like seven years, I need to stick it out. If only to ensure that when I do finally get out of my contract, that it goes as smoothly as possible.
I wasn’t lying when I told Lis that shit feels weird around here. With the two missing guys from the team, the coach continuously pushing me to jump more and now the doctor wants to give me these injections. It all just feels off.
I send Lis one more text, knowing there is nothing I can do about any of it right now.
Me:I am literally counting down the seconds until I get to see you again. Love you.
The next fewdays pass much the same as the rest. The coach keeps me out on the slopes, running the slalom track in the mornings and jumping in the afternoons. The doctor keeps wanting me to get the injections too and I keep being fucking miserable here. Oh, and my knee continues to hurt, no matter how much I ice it.
“Dude, you okay?” Brad, my teammate asks, walking over to where I stand at the end of the track.
“Fucking knee hurts,” I reply as I click off my skis, grateful the day is over. I never thought there would come a time when I would be glad to take my skis off.
“You seeing the doc?” he asks, a worried look on his face.
“Yeah,” I say, blowing out a breath as we both make our way over to the storage area to drop off our skis and shit. “Not that it’s helping much. He’s basically cleared me to keep jumping and just wants to give me some injections.”
We both hand over our gear, before making our way over to the accommodation building. This whole complex is kind of a cross between a college campus and an amazing sports training facility. Only slightly better because all of our rooms have their own bathroom and kitchen area, but we also have access to a cafeteria if we don’t want to cook. Not to mention the gym, the pool and sauna and more.
“You don’t want the injections?” Brad asks as we go inside and head up to our rooms.
Shrugging, I say, “I don’t know. No. I guess it just feels wrong you know. Like if it’s still hurting, why am I back to jumping?” My phone pings in my pocket with an incoming text that I know will be from Lis.
Lis:Hey! Just having dinner with Harper, can I call you a bit later when done? Maybe a couple of hours?
“Let me guess,your wife and your nightly phone call?” Brad asks, a smile on his face because he likes giving me shit about the fact that I somehow managed to fuck my knee, marry my ex-girlfriend and get her pregnant in the space of a few months.
“Yes, it’s her, but she’s actually heading out, so maybe later,” I admit, as I type out a quick response to her.
“Cool, let’s go get a beer then,” he says, slapping me on the back. “I kinda feel like you need one.”
After we shower and change, I meet Brad downstairs. He’s one of the few guys who bothered to buy a car when he got here and I have to admit, it helps when you want to leave this place. I never bothered because I figured we’d be traveling so much, what’s the point, but right now, I’m grateful.
“So, what are you gonna do about your knee?” Brad now asks as we settle into a booth in the town’s one and only Irish pub.
“Fuck, I don’t know,” I admit. “I just…it just doesn’t make sense that they’d be pushing me to jump if I shouldn’t, you know.”
“I agree,” he says, nodding in acknowledgement as our beers arrive. “Why would they risk you like that?”
I take a sip of the cold liquid. “Because I’m a great fucking jumper,” I tell him, brow raised.
Brad laughs, holding his glass up to me. “That you are, but it still doesn’t make sense. Why risk injury right before the Olympics? Or with all the meets leading up to that. You know, Worlds are coming up soon?”
I nod, swallowing another mouthful of my beer before sinking back in the bench seat. “Do you know what happened to Stefan and Craig?” I ask, knowing that none of the other jumpers on the team will tell me about my missing teammates, but maybe Brad will. He shrugs, feigning ignorance, but there’s a look on his face that tells me he knows more than he’s letting on. “Dude, come on,” I say, twirling a finger in the air. “Cone of silence here.”
He blows out a long breath before taking another sip of his beer, his gaze on his glass. “So I don’t know the full story, but you know how Stefan broke his arm just before you left?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, apparently your coach was pushing him to keep jumping with his cast on. Said it shouldn’t matter because he doesn’t land on his arms.”
“Fucking hell,” I say, scrubbing my hand across my jaw. “Yeah, but if he messed up and landed wrong it could…”
Brad lifts his gaze, his eyes meeting mine with a knowing look. “Exactly.”
“So what, he quit?”
He gives me another shrug. “Not sure exactly, but that’s the rumor. Refused to do it, so quit, got kicked out, who knows. Craig got injured while you were back home, and no one knows where he’s gone. Maybe same thing?”
