“Exactly. So I arranged the meet,” he said, regretting the fool’s bet every day.
“Wow.” She blew out a breath, then another, and he only just stopped himself from reaching over to her, touching her, holding her. “Why did you pick the most treacherous slope in Austria for your challenge?”
“The Hahnenkamm was the best test of our abilities,” he bit out. “I dreaded that mountain as most do and was grateful that winning my yearly race there was behind me. But it tests the best and that’s what this challenge was about. Julian readily agreed, knowing it was beyond reckless to attempt it at the same time. But he lived to test himself and saw this as his means to best me.”
“But he failed,” she said softly.
He closed his eyes and watched that moment unfold in his memory, feeling the amazing rush, the choking fear and the crippling pain that never ended, that rolled on and on like a monster avalanche, clearing everything in its path. “He could have won.”
“Then why didn’t he?”
“It was my fault.” He took a deep breath and huffed it out, gaze trained on the opaque wall but seeing nothing but blinding snow. Hearing nothing but the howl of the wind as he shot over the edge behind his brother and realized he was too low, that he hadn’t launched off as Julian had. “I was behind him by a good twenty seconds when we took a dangerous jump. I miscalculated the distance and lost a ski and the race. And my brother—” He hung his head and broke off, swallowing hard, face carved in anguish.
“Don’t go there,” she said softly, reaching over to lay a hand on his clenched one.
He turned his arm and grabbed her hand, squeezing it like it was a lifeline. “He shouldn’t have looked back. He should have kept flying down the mountain toward the next jump and proved he was the best. But he didn’t. He ignored the most basic rule and glanced back at me sprawled in the snow. I looked up just as he skidded out of control and shot over the precipice.”
“My God,” she whispered as she laid her hand atop his arm. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”
“I can do anything I want.”
“Let me help you—”
For one fleeting moment he wanted to accept her help. But that opened another avenue he wasn’t about to travel with a good woman.
“Helping Julian will help me,” he said, gruffly.
“There are other treatments—”
“No! What is done is done.” He shook his head, accepting his penance, his guilt. “I have had surgeries, followed by long sessions with top physical therapists around the world. My rehabilitation dragged on for two years before I put an end to it. They can do no more.”
“Are you always this intractable?”
“Stop being so optimistic,” he said, and without giving her time to reply, he barked out, “I brought you to Italy to give Julian a chance at a fuller life. You’re under contract do that and no more. In exchange, I will make sure you have an updated, state-of-the-art lodge for your therapy program in your quaint Colorado Rocky Mountains. Remember that.”
“How could I ever forget?”
He hoped to hell she didn’t. Hoped he could find that sweet spot that blinded him to the errors he’d made in the past. But then, in truth, he didn’t want to ease the misery.