Page 18 of Leave Me Not: Nick & Elissa #2 (Badger Creek Duet #8)

18

ELISSA

“H ow’s it going there?” I ask Nick, trying not to sound concerned or depressed, even though I’m both of these things.

It was really nice having Harper come to stay with me the night Nick left, but I can’t ask her to stay with me every night to help quell this loneliness. She has a family and a life, and I also do too, and I need to get back to it. Focusing on Nick leaving isn’t for the best because there’s nothing we can do about it.

“It’s good,” Nick replies, and the conversation is stilted. A lull falls over us, and then Nick blurts out, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. How is the jumping going? Any better than yesterday? The knee holding up okay?” I change the subject, the fear of crying looming too close if we talk about our separation. We’ve talked every day since he left, texting nonstop and not missing a single second of a phone call or FaceTime from each other.

I want Nick to do well, even if I also want him to come home and forget his ski career. He’s never been one to do anything half-assed, working hard even when he doesn’t want to. It’s something I’ve always admired about him, and it’s the reason he’s where he is now. All his dedication to his craft led him to the US team and training for the Olympics.

“It’s going. My knee still feels fucked,” Nick admits, and as much as I was so jealous of his physical therapist, I want to reach out to her and see what she thinks about it all.

“What’s the team doctor saying?” I ask, feeling my anxiety spike thinking about Nick’s future and his health. Nothing is worth risking a major accident.

“He wants to do some steroid injections to speed up healing,” Nick tells me, and again we fall silent. “I said no, but it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear.”

“You were cleared so why would you need steroid injections?” I ask, swallowing back the tears that build. I don’t want this life for Nick, making decisions that impact his future based on some quack of a doctor who is only in this for the money.

“Because, Lis, they want me back and fully healed already. I’m only good to them if I’m landing the extreme jumps I was doing before.”

He lets out a hard sigh, and I wish I knew what to say to make things better for us. Every night I think about the lawyer and if he’s made any progress with the contract, but it has only been a week. Things like this take time.

“Something doesn’t feel right, Lis,” Nick admits, and his words catch me off guard. “It feels different than when I initially made the team, like they’re keeping something from me.”

“What do you mean?” I question, fear gripping me.

“I don’t know. They keep pushing me to jump and wanting me to get the injections.” Pausing, he sighs again. “Maybe it’s just because I don’t want to be here.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say, but now I’m questioning everything too. His coach and the team doctor should be there to support Nick, but I’m not sure that’s what’s happening. If anything, it feels like they’re pushing him to do things that don’t feel right.

But it is just that—a feeling.

“Is there anything else?” I now ask, because jumping and injections feels like par for the course when you’re a ski jumper. I can tell by the tone of his voice that something feels off. He isn’t telling me the whole story.

“There are a few guys missing from the team,” Nick starts, his voice low, like he’s worried someone will hear him. “No one’s talking about it and when I asked, I was told we all signed a nondisclosure agreement. Like what the fuck does that have to do with anyone leaving the team?”

“Okay, that does sound strange. Did you sign the same agreement? Maybe it’s just to protect the team when they cut people. You know, so they can’t go around talking shit about the team?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, Lis. I think I’m just bitter because I don’t want to be here.”

“I get that but try to make the most of it. Train hard while you’re there. Maybe do some networking to see if you can make some professional connections for when you leave. Might help you get a job once the lawyer gets you out of your contract.” I’m trying to be positive, but holy shit it’s hard, especially after hearing that Nick is having reservations about the team in general.

“Yeah, I’m trying,” Nick mutters. “Sorry, Lis, how’s the baby doing? You feeling okay?” He changes the subject, a little happiness seeping into his words when he asks about the baby. We both love talking about the baby and how excited we are.

“Baby is good. Cooking away in my belly. Harper told me I might be able to feel the baby move soon.”

“For real? That’s awesome. You’ll have to update me on what it’s like when you feel it,” Nick says, and I can tell he’s smiling now.

We chat for a little while longer, avoiding talking about his concerns about jumping and his knee even though they’re still front and center in my mind.

I still can’t believe we broke up all those years ago and now here we are, having a baby, happy and totally in love. It’s been rough being apart, but I’m so looking forward to visiting him soon. Despite both of us wanting him to come home, I’m a little excited about seeing the training center and meeting the other athletes Nick is training with.

But even with my excitement, my thoughts keep coming back to what Nick said about the missing teammates and the coach and the doctor pushing him to do more than he’s comfortable with. It does feel off.

My laptop is sitting on the coffee table in front of me, calling at me to do some research on the coach and Nick’s teammates. After meeting the coach that first time and feeling like he was just there to bully me, treating me poorly in an effort to get me to turn on Nick. It wasn’t going to happen no matter what that coach said.

It just goes to show me that the coach is sneaky and possibly up to something, and the doctor is working with him too.

I laugh out loud at how ridiculous I sound, like I’m some sort of whistleblower with my internet research. Even if it is ridiculous, I still begin to look up what I can about the team and the coach and the doctor.

Before I know it, an hour has passed, and I’ve found nothing more than a bunch of articles talking about the coach’s accomplishments and Olympic champions singing his praises.

I shoot a few links to Nick, telling him that our feelings might be wrong since everything is just positive. I want to ask Nick about the teammates that are gone, wanting to Google them too, but I don’t want to make nothing into something.

Heading into the kitchen, I make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, something that has become a pregnancy craving ever since I ate all those mini ones at the ski lodge. They seem to help keep the nausea at bay and there’s no stopping a craving at this point. I swear I’d kill someone for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

I take my sandwich into the living room, switching on the TV, set to watch a rom com as a distraction from missing Nick, but I just can’t stop thinking about the teammates who left.

They didn’t just leave. They disappeared as if they were never even there. At least that’s the way Nick made it sound, no one talking about them and when he asked, it was very hush-hush.

Maybe that’s what happened when Nick hurt his knee and came back to Badger Creek. His teammates saw his injury, but it might be something that no one talks about. Like the idea that talking about it might make it come true for someone else.

I’m grasping, but my thoughts just won’t seem to settle down. And once again I find myself wrapped up in Google, searching for people who used to be part of the US team of jumpers.

It’s like a rabbit hole of nonsense and pointless crap. Instagram pages of people who want to be professionals, articles from twenty years ago about former jumpers, ads for gear and tons and tons of information about the team.

I find myself going through pictures of Nick on the team’s site and being so damn proud of him. There are action shots of him mid-jump, him sticking landings and then there are ones of him decked out in Holden gear.

The guy was born to be a ski jumper, but he was also born to be a damn model. He could sell ski gear to someone on the beach with how fucking hot he looks. He’s wearing a tight-fitting shirt, showcasing the outline of his muscled chest and arms. His hair is pulled back, a serious expression on his face, making him look like the face of the US team. The girls had to be knocking each other over just to talk to him.

As I’m admiring my hot baby daddy, thinking I might head into my bedroom, I find a picture of the entire team and there are two people I can’t seem to find in any of the other stills from the site.

I take a screenshot of it, and click on edit, circling the two guys. I send it to Nick asking him who they are.

Me: Who are these two? They’re nowhere on the team site.

Nick: What are you doing? Trying to find a new boyfriend?

Me: NEVER! Just creeping on the team site, looking at pictures of my hot baby daddy.

Nick: You think those pictures are hot, you should see me with my clothes off… oh wait, you already have. :)

Me: For real though, are these guys any of the ones who left the team?

Nick: No, they’re still here. One of them is rehabbing a shoulder injury and the other is our backup guy. Sorry to ruin your internet research in your attempts to take down my coach and get me back home.

Me: How the hell did you know that’s what I was doing?

Nick: Lis, we’ve known each other since we were kids, I know everything about you. I know you better than I know myself. Love that you’re this invested.

Me: Of course I’m invested. It’s our life.

Nick: Love you, babe.

Me: Love you.

Well, that led to nowhere, and so it looks like we’re going to have to rely on the lawyer to help us out after all.

I lean back into the couch, setting my laptop next to me, needing to stop obsessing over this. It’s hard not to wonder what’s going on and if there is more happening than Nick or I know. I’m sure there isn’t. We both just want this over so badly that we’re creating drama, and the coach wants Nick there because with Nick on the team, there’s publicity and money.

It’s always about money. I keep telling myself that.

Letting out a long slow breath, I close my eyes, trying to put the idea that something isn’t right out of my head.

I take in a few more deep breaths and on my last breath, I feel it. I gasp out loud, waiting to feel it again, and when I do, I rest my hand on my stomach.

It’s this fluttering feeling, and my breath catches in my throat, blown away by the realization that the baby is growing, and I’ll feel this kind of thing more often.

I love it.

It happens a couple more times, and each time it does, I feel my smile grow, beaming with excitement and happiness. It’s this small swishing feeling, and I picture the baby rolling around in there, the size of an apple, and it’s crazy that in a few more months, I’ll be feeling feet and elbows jabbing around in there.

I needed this tonight, and I’m sure Nick does too.

Me: I felt the baby move tonight!!!