Piper’s mom gets tears in her eyes every time she looks at me for the entire trip from Breckenridge to Denver. I volunteered to drive down with Ben to take them to the airport and drop Thor off with Brody in Boulder. He’s staying at Ben’s place and keeping an eye on things while everyone’s away.

Ben’s parents insisted on sitting in the back of their huge SUV, which Ben is driving, and whenever I turn around to say something, Mrs. Easton dabs her eyes and reaches forward to squeeze my shoulder. It’s sweet, but I’m probably going to have a bruise tomorrow.

“I had no idea your mom was so attached to me,” I say after we drop them off.

“She’s always loved you, dude. She even strong-armed her book club ladies to all read The Moron’s Guide to Instagram or some shit so they could all sign up and she could look at your pictures.”

“Seriously?”

He glances over. “Of course. She thinks of you as a second son, and trust me, you’re usually in the number one spot.”

“Jealous?”

“Every day and every night,” he says.

It’s bullshit of course; Ben’s mom worships him. The huge bulletin board in their kitchen is covered with so many clipped out articles about him that it looks like she’s a detective and he’s her main suspect. He’ll always be her number one, but I can’t deny that knowing she cares so much makes me feel damn good. I ran out of Colorado like my ass was on fire and at the time I had to do it, but I’ve been out there on my own so long that I forgot what a community feels like.

One of the best parts of snowboarding was having that with Ben and our friends. We trained together, traveled together, and played together. We competed, sure, but within our group it was always about beating our personal best, never about beating each other. I’ve been so focused on losing the physical part of snowboarding—about never getting to actually ride again—that I’ve forgotten the other parts of the life I miss.

“You okay over there?”

I automatically start to say “fine,” but then I shut it down. Ben’s my best friend and I can be real with him.

“I don’t really know,” I say. “Being home is a mind fuck, to be honest. Lots of memories.”

“Sorry there’s so much snowboarding shit lying around the condo. I meant to clear out the garage, but I ran out of time.”

“It’s a condo in Breckenridge and you’re a pro snowboarder, Ben. Of course there’s snowboarding shit lying around. Half of it’s mine, anyway. You don’t have to protect me from that stuff. I can handle it.”

“Can you, though?”

I would resent the hell out of that question from anyone else, but Ben’s not challenging me. He’s honestly concerned, and with good reason I guess. I have been avoiding snow like the goddamned plague.

“Yeah, I can.” I hear the surprise in my own voice, but there’s not a trace of doubt. “The initial entry sucked pretty hard, but I’m doing okay. I’ll get through the Olympics.”

Something loosens in my chest as I realize that it’s true. When I took that first breath of winter air, I was seriously one step away from jumping into a shuttle and heading straight back to the airport. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to do this, but I’ll make it.

“The Games will be tough,” I admit. “Seeing you guys in the pipe, talking about the tricks, just being back in that world, you know?”

Ben nods. “I’m there if you need me.”

“I know.” I may not remember anything about the accident or the weeks following, but from the time I opened my eyes Ben was with me. Holding the shitty protein shakes they made me drink and challenging me to finish therapy drills faster than the day before. Shaving my face when my mom complained about my beard. Reading to me for hours when my eyes wouldn’t focus.

“I think it’s going to be okay,” I tell him. “Good closure, you know? One last lap around the party to say goodbye and then I’m gone. The fact that I’ll get to watch you take out the gold is just a bonus.”

He ignores that. Superstitious fucker. “And that’s it? You wouldn’t consider moving back here?”

I stare over at him, but his gaze is fixed on the road ahead. His question sounds casual, but it could be about a bunch of shit: my name next to his on the deed for the condo; when we’ll see each other again; the fact that I spent the night wrapped up around his little sister.

Yeah, not going to address that last one while we’re in a moving vehicle.

“Not permanently,” I say. “But maybe for a couple weeks in summer, when you’re not training so hard. We could hang out then, or you could come meet me wherever I end up. I met a cool guy on the Gold Coast who said he was headed to a little French island to work at an English bookstore and I told him I’d come check it out. Nat would love it.”

He looks at me again, and his jaw gets tight. Whatever I said was not what he wanted to hear, apparently. “Brody talk to you at all about his movie?”

“We’ve discussed it a few times. He’s been calling me the past few days. But the funding situation is still not good, so he doesn’t know if it’ll happen.”

Brody used to ride with us, and he was one step down from me when they put that medal on my neck four years ago, but then he quit and started making movies in the backcountry. Mostly crazy guys riding impossible lines. He’s hardcore: the guy will camp out on a glacier for a month waiting for the perfect day to ride some spine he spotted from the air. After I got hurt he visited a few times and decided to make a movie that showed the other part of extreme sports: the part where you fuck yourself up so bad you never ride again, or, if you do, it’s after years of surgeries and physical therapy.

The problem? None of his sponsors want to pay for that kind of movie.

Turns out I’m kind of a downer.

“Would you agree to be on camera if he finds the money?”

“I guess. I told him I didn’t want to carry the whole thing, you know? But I said I’d make an appearance. I don’t wanna be famous as the guy with the gnarly head injury. That’s not how I want to be remembered.”

“What about being behind the camera?”

Ah. I get it now. Ben’s not grinding his molars to dust because he’s pissed I might have slept with his sister, he’s feeling me out about Brody’s suggestion that I join his film crew. But that’s not going happen.

“I mean, how many followers have you got on Instagram now?” His tone is urgent, and I can tell he’s thought about this a lot. Ben would deny it to his dying breath, but Piper’s not the only Easton who gets off on solving people’s problems for them.

“Counting your mom and her book club ladies?”

“Yes, smart ass. Counting them.”

“A decent amount, I guess, but I haven’t posted anything since I’ve been back.”

I haven’t even unpacked my camera. Haven’t seen anything I wanted to photograph, except Piper. Maybe I’ll dig out my stuff when I get back up to Breck, see if I can capture her the way I saw her this morning: rosy warm and mussed-up sexy. Laughing in bed. One perfect memory to take with me when I go.

“Nat showed me that article about your stuff, and with what you know about snowboarding? Brody said you could pretty much write your own ticket. Magazines would be falling all over themselves to sign you up.”

“Maybe.” We’ve hit the Boulder city limits and I stare out at the foothills bordering the western edge of the city. The snowy peaks gleam in the dusk and the city lights twinkle down below. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I can tell that what I’m looking at is beautiful. I can remember coming home for Christmas and driving this same stretch with a deep sense of satisfaction and love. I can understand the beauty on an intellectual level, but I can’t feel it.

The only time I respond to my physical environment with anything but numbness is when I’m surrounded by warmth and color. Hiking through the lush jungles of Vietnam, or seeing the sun sparkle off the brightly painted palace in Bangkok. The ocean works, too: the deep, perfect blue of the water off the coast of Italy and the waves curling onto the beach of Australia’s Gold Coast were enough to spark something in me, even if it was only for a moment.

I can’t really explain that to Ben, though, because I hardly understand it myself. I also don’t know how to make him understand that I’m not driven when it comes to photography in the same way I was when I wanted to conquer the world of snowboarding and damn the consequences. Ben wants me to get better, so he’s latched on to something I might be good at and figured out what I’d need to do to be the best. Grow my social media following, get hired by magazines, get some experience under my belt by working with Brody.

He’s mapping out a path to success because that’s what Ben does: he figures out how to be the best and makes it happen. The guy is a training machine and always has been. I’d be eating ice cream for dinner while he weighed out protein portions. His focus is legendary.

The only thing I’ve been focused on since I got back to Breck is his sister, but again, not the time to bring that up.

“I’ll think about it,” I say. “Keep talking to Brody and see what happens.”

“He’s planning a killer trip. Plus, he’s bringing Zeke along, so you know it will be hilarious.”

I grin. Zeke is a fucking force of nature. He competes in slopestyle and the guy flies so high off those jumps I swear he’s part bird. Seeing what he busts out at the Olympics is one of the only things I’m actually looking forward to. Plus, he’s the king of stupid practical jokes, so hanging out with him is always good for shits and giggles.

“There’s always the announcer route as well,” Ben adds. “Especially if the Olympics go well, right? Gabe Power must have a pretty big hard-on for you, considering the size of the check he’s about to write.”

Yeah, no way in hell that’s happening either, but I know Ben’s trying to help. I’d be doing the same for him if the boot was on the other foot.

When we get to Ben’s house, Brody is outside squaring off with a tall blonde girl who’s wearing a pink tool belt. He’s waving his arms around like a maniac and she’s glaring at him, arms crossed, tapping her foot against the ground.

“Ah, shit,” Ben mutters as he pulls up and kills the engine. “I was hoping they’d be getting along a little better by now.”

“What the hell happened here?” I gesture beyond the two of them to the driveway. Brody lives in a tiny house on wheels, which he tows along behind his truck, and last I heard it was parked up in North Boulder somewhere where a hippie guy was going to start a tiny house compound. The house is in Ben’s driveway now, and somebody apparently plowed into it, because one of the back corners is crumpled in.

“The girl giving Brody hell is Nat’s sister, Allie, and she came into town last week in a blizzard and lost control of her car.” He points to an SUV parked haphazardly on the front lawn that’s got a good-sized dent in the hood.

“He looks pretty pissed.” Brody’s usually a mellow guy.

“Yeah, they didn’t exactly hit it off,” Ben says with a smirk. “Although, to be honest, I was pretty sure they’d be fucking by now. All that energy has to go somewhere, right?”

Allie is yelling at Brody now, and he’s got his hands planted on his hips like he’s afraid he’ll reach out and strangle her if he lets go. She pulls a hammer out of her tool belt and waves it at the house, then points it at his nose. Neither one of them have noticed that they have an audience.

“Is that a pink sparkly hammer?”

“Fuck,” Ben says. “We’d better get over there.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m getting involved with a girl waving a hammer,” I tell him, tapping my head. “Brain injury, remember?”

“Asshole,” Ben says. Then he launches himself out of the car and runs over to where the two of them are standing.

I’m about to go join them when my phone rings. Piper’s name flashes up on the screen and I grin. The girl has always had the best timing.

“Hey,” I answer, watching Ben try to disarm Allie while pretending to hug her hello. He’s a smooth fucker, I’ll give him that.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching Nat’s sister try to bash Brody’s head in. You?”

“Reading my pre-op instructions again and trying not to freak out that there will be a power surge during the operation which will cause them to fry my eyeballs.”

“That’s a weirdly specific thing to freak out about.”

“I’ve been considering this surgery for years,” she reminds me. “I’ve had time to think through all the variables.”

“They’re professionals, Piper, and they get paid a fuck ton of money. I’m sure they sprung for the surge protectors when they were kitting out the office.”

She sighs. “I guess.”

“It’s gonna be fine. Nat will drop you off on her way down to meet Ben, and I’ll be there to pick you up tomorrow at noon in your parents’ boat of a car. You and your perfectly intact eyeballs. Your dad spent the entire trip going over the post-op instructions with me, and we stopped on the way out of town to pick up your prescriptions. Everything’s set.”

The surgery does sound a little gnarly, so I don’t blame her for being anxious. I’ve been through enough medical shit to know that the night before an operation is never fun. Plus, she’ll be awake the whole time, and then have to keep her eyes covered until the next morning, which she’ll hate.

“Did you get me extra pain pills?”

I laugh. “Um, no. But your dad already wrote out a medication schedule for me.”

“Did he email you an extra copy, just in case?”

“He did, in fact. Plus, he shared it as a Google Doc. The man is thorough.”

Ben appears to have convinced the two combatants to head inside, and I should probably join them, but I don’t want to stop talking to her. I fucking missed this. In the years that we’ve been apart I thought about Piper all the time, and I won’t lie, a good portion of those thoughts were about her gorgeous body and exactly what I wanted to do to it. But this is different. I’ve had sex with other people since Japan, but I’ve never had a friendship like this with any of them. We didn’t chat on the phone or trade banter back and forth.

We didn’t laugh. Not like this.

“I wish you were here,” she says suddenly.

“Me too.”

“This morning was…”

“Frustrating?” I suggest.

“Fucking hot,” she corrects me. Her voice is low and raspy, and my cock instantly feels heavy.

“I’m in your parents’ car,” I remind her. “In full view of your brother. Now is not the time to remind me about how hot your body was when you were rubbing all over me this morning.”

Yeah, too late. I’m feeling pretty fucking reminded. Also rock hard and aching to pull out my dick, close my eyes, and reenact what happened this morning with a different, happier ending.

“You could come back tonight,” she says. “I’ll wait up.”

“Nope. Not gonna happen. You need to rest up for tomorrow and we need to figure out what the hell we’re doing here, Piper.”

It’s not like I don’t want to be with her. I’m about one stroke away from coming in my pants at the thought of it, but she seemed pretty determined to keep things in the friend zone before last night, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her.

She’s silent for a minute. “So that’s a no to phone sex?”

“A hard no.”

“But how hard is it?” she purrs out, which makes us both laugh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at Dr. Denham’s office,” I tell her. “And if he incinerates your eyeballs by mistake, I’ll punch him in the nuts.”

“Promise?”

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

“Will you bring me soup and narrate the Twilight movies for me all night?”

“You’ll still be able to hear,” I remind her.

“Yeah, but I’ll need you to describe the action.”

“Whatever you need,” I repeat. There’s no way in hell I’m doing that, but hopefully she’ll be too blissed out on pain pills to remember.

“Dr. Denham has the highest safety rating of any eye surgeon in the high country,” she says, like she’s trying to convince herself. “He’s the best. I researched it myself.”

I smile. Because that’s peak Piper, and I love it.

“It’s going to be fine. Sleep well, Piper.”

“The very best,” she says again, sounding more positive now, like she’s won the argument. “A god among eye men.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Adam.” She hangs up and I stare at the phone for a few minutes, grinning like a lovesick fool, before heading inside.