I made it through my surgery without any complications. Doctors and therapists and my parents and coaches swirl around me saying that if I put in the hard work, I should be able to ski again - which is the last thing on my mind. All I can think about is how to get back to Lainey. I commit to a strenuous recovery program in the hopes of seeing her sooner than later.

"May I come in?"

I look over at my hospital-room door and it's Karen, my sports psychologist. I let out a long sigh. "I don't have much choice, do I? I'm a bit trapped at the moment."

"That's how I like it – chasing after my patients who don't want to see me can be exhausting."

"I have no doubt you have many patients who don't want to see you."

"I'm going to start taking it personally."

"Whatever you need to do to leave me alone."

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

I don't respond. She sits and takes out a small journal and a pen.

"I hear your surgery went well."

"We'll see soon enough."

"Are you looking forward to walking again?"

"Yes, walking would be nice. I think anyone would agree on that, don't you?"

"How about skiing? What are your feelings about it?"

"Here we go. Is this when you try to figure out how to get me to love skiing again? Oh I know, you want me to love myself again, right?" I wrap my arms around my chest, giving myself a hug.

"You don't love yourself?"

"That's not what I said."

She writes something down in her journal and looks back up at me.

"So then you love skiing?"

"I'm good at it."

"Tell me about the best run you've ever had."

"I don't really have a favorite. If I go all in and I win then it's a good run."

"Alright, then tell me about a race that you won."

"Okay, but you better get your pen ready because it's going to shock you."

She raises her pen and shakes it for me. "The pen and I are ready."

"I'd say winning my first Olympic gold medal was pretty special."

She smiles. "You're right, that does not shock me. Can you tell me how you felt during that race?"

"Strong. At the top of my game. I was pushing my limits but always felt in control. It helped that my brother was there to press me to go faster. He always wanted to go faster."

She stops writing and looks up at me.

"I'm very sorry about what happened to your brother."

"Me too."

"Do you blame yourself for his death?"

"Wow, you jump right in, don't you?" I shift around, uncomfortable.

"I don't know how long you will remain trapped so I go all in."

"Yes, I blame myself," I whisper.

"Why?"

"Oh I don't know. Probably because I was pressing him to go faster that day and he's the one who crashed and not me."

"Was he pressing you to go faster too?"

"Yes, but it was my job to rein him in. If the risks were too high, he relied on me to tell him. I should have known better."

Karen leans forward. "But you've skied that mountain a million times. How could you know the risks were any higher that day?"

"If I had exercised more control that day then Ashton would still be alive!" I move my legs over the side of my bed, wanting to make a run for it. Instead the pain causes me to double over.

"But I thought pushing your limits and each other is what put you at the top of your game?"

I pull my legs back up on the bed. I let my head fall against my pillow and close my eyes. Ashton appears laughing and telling me to catch up as he races by me on the mountain. He was always so goddamn happy.

"Cory, I'm going to let you rest, but I'd like to come back tomorrow. Would that be okay?"

I nod, hoping that if I do as she says, she'll leave me alone or I'll be gone before she comes back.

As soon as Karen leaves, my mom and dad tell me that Lainey is finally awake. A wave of relief washes over me. 

"Did she call?" I ask, hopeful to hear her voice soon. 

No, they explain, they've been in contact with her parents – each has been updating and supporting the other through our injuries. Our parents learned early on that injuries are a large part of our sports. Death is often cheated and in my brother's case, death is the result of the risks we take.

"I need to see her," I say. I move to try to stand again, trying not to wince from the pain.

My dad reaches out to steady me. "We know you do. We'll help you."

It takes a full week for the surgeon and my physical therapist Martin to agree to let me travel. And the only reason they are letting me go is if Martin chaperones me. I know there are some behind-the-scenes discussions going on about my recovery and my ability to make it back to the mountain again. But I've made it clear that seeing Lainey is my top priority. I'm concerned that she's not responding to any of my calls. I need to see her.

Martin and I leave for Los Angeles as soon as I'm given the greenlight. It seems to take forever, between driving to the airport and waiting for the flight to take off and then landing and getting a rental car. In reality, it's only been a few hours.

We finally turn into the UCLA Medical Center where Lainey is recovering. We park the car and Martin gets a wheelchair for me. I protest but he insists. Instead of wasting more time, I agree and he pushes me to Lainey's floor, where we're greeted by her parents.

I can tell by the look on their faces that something's wrong.

"Is she okay?" I ask.

Lainey's mom chokes up as Lainey's father extends his hand to me. It hits me that I'm meeting Lainey's father for the first time.

I shake his hand firmly. "I'm sorry for what happened. I should have never let her drive."

"She's getting stronger every day. She has the best doctors."

"May I see her?"

"She refuses to see anyone."

"Does she know I'm here?"

"Yes, she knows and she told us to meet you and tell you that she can't see you."

"I know I can help her. She came to see me when I was injured at the Games. In retrospect, I was happy that she did."

Her father considers but then shakes his head, "She's in a very fragile state. I'm sorry son. I know Lainey really cares about you. She needs time."

I feel Lainey's presence nearby but I can't get to her. I clinch my fists in frustration. "I understand. I don't want to upset her. Please tell her how sorry I am and that ... I love her. And please give her this." I pull out a jewelry box and hand it to her father.

I turn my wheelchair around and move slowly down the hall. The walls feel like they're closing in on me. Martin follows a few steps behind. After a few feet, I stop and close my eyes for a second. I see Lainey in my mind moving gracefully across the ice. She sees me and smiles, lighting up the entire ice rink.

"Cory?"

For a second, I think it's Lainey and I turn my wheelchair around so fast, I almost fall out of it. Only it's not her. It's her mom.

"I'm so sorry, did I frighten you?"

"No, it's your voice. I thought you were Lainey."

"I wanted to tell you – we know you didn't cause this accident. Your parents have been worried that you think we blame you. No one blames you."

"I should have been the one driving."

"No, Cory, it's not your fault. It was an accident. She's going to be okay. Give her time."

I turn and continue down the hallway. I can't help but think everyone's lying. But it really doesn't matter, because I already blame myself for the condition she's in.