Page 22 of Love Worth Gold

“Isa.” He shifted closer. “Blaire Hollis already has her Olympic story. Multiple medals. Her name is well-established in the record books. Whatever happens here, she walks away a legend.” His gaze locked on hers. “You’re just now writing your first chapter. Don’t let it be a footnote in someone else’s biography.”

She looked down at her hands, fingers flexing against the mat. “I’m not an idiot, Reto.”

“I know you’re not.” He softened. “But I also know what you look like when you’re trying to convince yourself you can handle something that’s already getting under your skin.” He tapped her knee lightly. “I was there for the rehab. I drove you home when you couldn’t walk without crying. I watched you fight to get here.”

Isaline sucked in a deep breath.

“I don’t care who you sleep with. That part is none of my business,” he said quietly. “I care that you get to ski your race without distractions and regrets.”

She met his eyes and saw the protective worry threaded through every word.

He pulled her into a quick, tight hug. When he let go, he stood and offered her a hand up.

“Tomorrow’s the Super-G,” he said. “Focus one hundred percent of your attention on that. One hundred percent!” he repeated.

She nodded.

But as he walked away, she stayed on the mat a moment longer, staring at the foam roller like it held answers about women that it didn’t have.

~~

Matthias spread the Super-G course map across the small table. His fingers traced the profile with a lifetime of experience. Isaline sat across from him. Her shoulders were still warm from physio, mind half on the map and half on the way Blaire had looked right through her at breakfast like she was made of glass.

“First flat section.” He tapped the paper. “You can’t afford passive skiing, Isaline. The part right here will reward commitment.”

She nodded, eyes tracking the terrain breaks.

“Second pitch drops faster than training showed. Wind at the gate means you read it in real time, not from memory.” His gaze lifted from the map. “Which requires a focus that doesn’t wander.”

She nodded her head.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “You were slow to answer Reto’s question this morning when we were going over mental prep. You’ve been half a step behind in the debrief sessions. And during the course inspection yesterday, I called your name twice before you heard me.”

Heat climbed her neck. “I’m focused, Dad.”

“You’re distracted.” His voice stayed even, but the steel underneath it pressed harder. “And I don’t need to know every detail to see that.”

She met his eyes. “Reto told you? This is about Blaire?”

“This is about you,” he said. “Blaire Hollis is… Blaire Hollis. She has her medals, her headlines, her legacy. Whatever happens here, people will keep talking about her skiing.” He shook his head once. “What I care about is that you don’t start living your races around what she does or doesn’t do.”

The words landed like a fist to her sternum.

“I beat her in St. Moritz,” Isaline said quietly.

“You did,” he agreed. “You beat her because you trusted your race and your work prior. I won’t watch you come all the way here and then give that trust away by thinking more about her than about the hill in front of you.”

Isaline let out a slow breath.

Matthias leaned forward. “This window will not come back the same way, Isaline. Younger racers are already moving up the rankings. Your body doesn’t reset to twenty-two. You’ve clawed back from two injuries that should have ended this.” His gaze held hers without flinching. “I’m asking you now: do you wantto be remembered as my daughter who almost made it, or as the racer who took the race in her own hands and won?”

The challenge hung between them.

She swallowed hard. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair doesn’t matter in life.” His voice softened, but only barely. “Results do. And right now, you’re handing away mental sharpness to the competition lining up in the same start gate.”

Isaline looked down at the course map, vision blurring at the edges.