Just not with his bad knee. Holy shit, he was out of shape. By the time he got to the top of the jagged mountain peak, his legs were overcooked noodles and he was breathing like a freight train. He stood looking out at the valley far below, his past life spread out in a blanket of white glory. An icy wind blew over his heated body, slowly cooling him down.

But it wasn’t the sweat drying that made him shiver. It was the knowledge that there was no way in hell he was going to take the board off his back. Every time he tried, his fingers shook, and he remembered the crash in vivid Technicolor. He’d been racing for a world title, lost his concentration, caught an edge, and had woken up in a Swiss hospital. He’d spent a month flat on his back recovering from three surgeries, one of which had nearly killed him. Then he’d spent another eleven months wandering the planet feeling sorry for himself over losing the only thing that had ever been his unconditionally.

The board was a heavy weight on his back. He wanted to be on it. Wanted the rush of the roaring crowd, the feel of the gates as he flew through them, the dizzying speeds as he headed to the finish line…

But that wasn’t going to happen, not ever again.

You’re as good as you’re going to get, his last doctor had declared.

But not as good as he’d once been, not even close. He had seventy percent mobility, which meant he could get out there like the average Joe Blow but…

But.

He’d never again be a world champ using the skills he’d honed from the age of five out of sheer determination, grit, and desperation to get away from the life he’d hated. Even after he’d gone to live with Annie, the determination and grit had remained.

He’d been the best of the best, and because of it had been lifted out of poverty, had been offered a life where he could travel every single day of the year if he chose, a life where people treated him like he was somebody.

And now that was gone, forever. Fuck. Fuck it. Without taking the board off his back, he started hiking back down the hill, ignoring the aching muscles in his good leg and the pain in his bad one. A couple of hundred yards along, he heard a yell from above him. And then, “Oh shit!”

“Cody, watch out for that effing tree!” someone else yelled in equal panic.

Two guys burst through a set of trees above Cam, avoided the trees by a miracle, and threw themselves to the snow at his feet.

“Jesus, Tuck,” Cody gasped, rolling to his back. “Jesus Christ.” He slapped his hands down his body. “We’re alive.”

“Barely.” Tuck lifted his head and smiled at Cam. “Dude, we almost killed you.”

Not likely, Cam thought, as neither of them could have aimed and hit him if they’d tried. They were fifteen, maybe sixteen. Both with knit caps low over their eyes, baggy boarding gear and goggle tans.

Cody shoved his cap up a bit to see better. “Hey.” He peered at Cam’s face. “Hey, I know you.”

Cam shook his head.

“No, dude. I do. You’re Cameron Wilder. Dude,” he said, smacking Tuck in the chest. “It’s him, look.”

“Sweet. Hey, man, we need some pointers.”

“Stay out of the trees until you know what you’re doing.”

They both laughed and slapped each other around some. “So why are you walking down?” Cody asked Cam.

“Your knee?” Tuck asked. “It’s not better?”

“No.” Which was infinitely more appealing than the truth-that it was as good as it was going to get, so he’d switched gears and became a Professional Quitter.

“You’re not, like, giving lessons, are you? Cuz my mom would totally pay you to teach me how to board without breaking bones.” Tuck pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and revealed a casted wrist.

Teach other people how to ruin their lives too? Huh, what a concept. “No.”

“We could walk down with you, and you could tell us about the 2006 X Games, where you-”

“Can’t. Sorry.” Their faces fell, and he felt like an ass. A complete and utter loser ass. “But you could come by the lodge.” Where he had closets and closets full of sponsor gear he’d never be able to use in one hundred lifetimes. “I have extra gear if you’re interested.”

“Dude!”

“Can we bring our friends?” Tuck asked, lit up in sheer joy.

“Yeah.” Why the hell not. He already felt like a one-man freak show, might as well become one.

“Maybe you’ll be boarding again before the end of the season and we could tag along,” Cody said. “You know, like, sometime.”

Cam looked into their young, eager faces and felt a hard tug on his gut. He wanted to say leave me the hell alone, but he couldn’t do it. He simply couldn’t look into their hopeful, whole-life-in-front-of-them faces and crush their dreams just because his were gone. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Sweet!”

They hit the mountain slope again, arguing over who to bring with them to Wilder, and Cam followed.

On foot.

Chapter 5

After flying their clients to Cascade Falls, Stone and Nick spent the day leading them down a series of verticals. By late afternoon, they’d tackled four different peaks and sat at the top of Mt. Paiute, looking out over what felt like paradise.

“Never gets old,” Nick noted.

“Nope.” Stone turned off his iPod. “Cam should have come.”

“Said he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, whether he’d stick around or not.”