The blur of stars in the clear night sky appeared like a comet’s trail. He arched and gyrated his hips in a hula type move, beginning his first back twist.
His left ski detached from his boot, hitting his arm. Pain ricocheted through the bone. Shock seized his lungs.
The sensation of flying that normally brought him joy sent a shaft of terror shredding through him.
A ripple of panic snatched his breath.
“Help me, God!”
Forget about keeping his body in alignment for the judges. He focused his gaze on the ground, estimating the distance. This wasn’t the first time a trick had gone wrong.
He prayed it wouldn’t be his last trick ever.
He had to land this in one piece. An injury could knock him out of the competition. He didn’t want to wait another four years for the opportunity to go for gold!
He raised his arms overhead to slow his momentum. Pain screamed down his left side from the point of impact with the ski. He elongated his frame, keeping his knees soft and braced himself for the ground.
He hit the landing track with a jarring thud. For a heartbeat, he thought he’d maintain his upright position on the one ski. Then he tumbled, head over end, landing with bruising force against the track and sliding rapidly toward the barrier of the outrun. He curled to protect himself and hit the barrier like a ball bouncing off pavement.
The air left his lungs in a gush and stars danced before his eyes.
He prayed his dreams of gold weren’t dead like his brother.
* * *
Shrieks of horror splintered the air. Nick’s unattached ski flew into the bright orange safety net. He lay in a heap, butted up against the outrun barrier. The cries of the spectators echoed through Julie, heightening her own shock. Reality TV in the flesh.
“Lord, please don’t let him be dead.”
She did not want to gain ratings by streaming live the death of one of Oregon’s—and the country’s—favorite skiers. What would this accident to do his chances of competing in February? Would an injury force him to wait four more years or take him out of the running for gold forever by ending not only his career but also his life?
Sympathy and dread knotted her stomach.
Uniformed people and other skiers rushed to Nick’s side.
Bob’s hand gripped Julie’s elbow. “Come on, get in there.”
She blinked, letting his words sink in. Right. She had a job to do. Shaking off the shock, she pushed her way through the crowd. “Excuse me. Let us through.”
She reached the barrier and flashed her press badge to the man guarding the makeshift gate. He pulled aside the wire mesh so she and Bob could move closer to where Nick lay on the ground. Even though they weren’t on the mountain, two Mt. Bachelor ski patrols wearing black snowsuits with bright white crosses on the shoulders attended to Nick. One checked Nick’s vitals and the other positioned a toboggan so they could lift him onto the sled.
Julie inched closer but was halted by a large muscled man in a black ski suit. “Stay back, ma’am.”
As she peered around the man, dread curled in her belly. She hated seeing anyone hurt, let alone someone she knew.
Nick moaned and rolled onto his back.
Julie breathed out a sigh of relief.
“Whoa! Slow down,” one of the ski patrol said.
“What happened?” Nick asked, coming up on his elbows.
“You took a nasty spill,” Julie answered. The pressure in her chest eased. He hadn’t broken his neck like his brother. Though she hadn’t witnessed Cody’s fatal accident, the stories of the event painted a harrowing tale.
Nick reached up and pulled his goggles down past his chin so they hung around his neck. “Do I know you?”
Her heart did a little leap. She smiled but was prevented from answering when the ski patrol stepped between them. “Sir, we’re going to lift you onto the toboggan and take you to the clinic tent while we wait for an ambulance.”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“Nick!” A tall man wearing a long wool coat over a double-breasted suit and wing tips shoved his way through the crowd. “Are you hurt? Oh, man, tell me you’re not hurt!”
“No, I’m good,” Nick said and sat up.
“Sir, please, let’s get you onto the toboggan,” the ski patrol insisted.
Waving off the guy, Nick said, “No way. I can go on my own two feet.” He rolled to all fours and then rose.
A cheer erupted from the crowd.
Nick wobbled. Julie reached out to steady him, along with everyone else. “Stubborn man,” she muttered.
He grinned at her. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“You need to be checked out ASAP!” the well-dressed man exclaimed, looking a little green. “You can’t have an injury this close to the games.”
“I’m fine. Relax,” Nick insisted.
“I won’t relax until the doctors say you’re fine,” the man shot back.
Two skiers, wearing ski suits matching Nick’s, positioned themselves on either side of Nick. The Thunderbird logo graced the back of Nick’s ski suit, distinguishing him from the other two. The muscled man in black fell in step behind them.
“Come on, dude,” the guy on the right said. “Let’s get you to the doctor.”
They half carried him toward the Mt. Bachelor medical clinic tent set up nearby.
Julie blinked and forced herself to remember why she was there. She turned to face Bob and stared into the camera. “Nick Walsh, ladies and gentlemen. Undoubtedly one of the best aerial freestyle skiers in the country. Not many people could have dropped fifty feet in the air and walked away to ski again.”
She prayed that last bit was true. The country was counting on him doing the U.S. proud by medaling.
“Come on,” she said to Bob and followed Nick toward the urgent-care tent.
“Nick!” a woman in the crowd called out. “Nick, are you okay? It’s me, Kitty.”
Nick didn’t acknowledge the female’s cry.
Julie wasn’t sure which of the numerous women pressing up against the barrier had called out. A girlfriend?
“Get a shot of the crowd,” she instructed Bob.
As soon as he finished panning the crowd, she hurried around the corner of the urgent-care tent. She hustled so she was in front of Nick and his entourage.
Nick stopped, forcing his companions to do the same. “Jules, is that you?”
Surprise, closely followed by pleasure, rushed through her, heating her cheeks. “Hey, Nick.” She gave herself a mental shake. Do your job! She thrust the microphone toward him. “Do you know what went wrong?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “That wasn’t meant to be a monoskiing trick.”
“Any idea why your ski came off?”
He tried to sidestep by her, his expression darkening. “I have ideas.”
Frustrated that he wouldn’t share, she moved into his path. “Will you be doing a second run?”
“No, I won’t tonight.” He zigged to go around her, taking his buddies with him.
Disappointed he wasn’t giving her more, she zagged.
His blue eyes flashed