Page 22 of It’s Me, but Different

I hit the wall and cry for everything I've lost. For Luis, for the dreams we shared that disappeared after his death. For Sloane, for what we were and what we could have been. For myself, for the woman I used to be before responsibility and pain changed me forever.

And I cry when I realize something terrible: that I'm not going to accept either of the two opportunities presented to me. Not the job offer in Denver, not the possibility ofhaving something with Sloane. I'll choose the safety of the known, of keeping things just as they are. And I'll do it only because it's easier. Because changing, making any kind of change, requires courage I'm no longer sure I possess.

And that's what breaks my heart more than anything else.

Because it means I've let fear win. That I've chosen survival over life.

And I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for it.

Chapter 11

Sloane

The door slam echoes through my entire apartment when I return from The Peak. I drop onto the couch without even taking off my boots, still processing what just happened up there.

“Fuck,” I mutter through my teeth, running my hands through my hair. “I was an idiot.”

I open a bottle of red wine and drink it directly, without using a glass or worrying about manners. The Cabernet Sauvignon burns going down, but not as much as the humiliation I feel in my chest. For a moment, for one fucking moment, I thought Esme was about to give me a second chance. The way she looked at me during dinner, how her cheeks blushed when our eyes met, the way her fingers trembled slightly when she picked up her wine glass.

And then, when I suggested we could try something... her response was as clear as a slap.

“I have children, Sloane. I can't risk their stability for this.”

I close my eyes and let out a bitter laugh. It's life's irony. Eleven years ago I was the one who didn't want to complicate my life. I was the one who chose my Olympic preparation over her. I was the one who thought Esme would always be there waiting in case I decided to come back someday.

Now she's the one returning the favor, and it hurts even more, because I understand how she felt when I left her.

The phone vibrates on the table, and the name on the screen makes my heart race even before opening the message.

Esme: Would you like to give ski lessons tomorrow? The twins are excited.

I read the message three times. She'll let me teach her children, but not be part of her life.

I keep my fingers halfway over the keyboard. It would be very easy to tell her no. I could keep my distance, assign another instructor, and disappear for a few days until she leaves. Maybe it would be better to protect my heart before falling deeper into this hole.

Me: Of course. All the lessons they want. See you at 10 at the base of the green slope.

Because I'm a masochist.

Or a fucking idiot.

Or because I can't resist being near her, even though I know I don't have any chance.

Morning comes too soon, just when I had managed to fall asleep after a night full of memories from the past.

I spend almost an hour choosing what to wear, as if the color of my ski suit would change anything.

“You're an idiot,” I tell myself in front of the mirror. “These are ski lessons for kids, nothing more.”

But when Ana Sofia and Theo appear at the base of the slope, with their little faces full of excitement, and Esme waves at me smiling from the hotel terrace, I know I'm deceiving myself.

“Sloane!” the girl shrieks, running toward me like a small ball of energy. “Mom told us today we'll learn to make more advanced turns.”

“We'll see about that,” I smile, adjusting her helmet and trying not to shift my gaze toward where her mother is watching us. “First we have to warm up those legs. Did you have a good breakfast?”

“Croissants and hot chocolate,” Theo responds with a shy smile. “The ones River makes.”

“Perfect. You'll need lots of energy for today's lesson.”