I stare into the darkness and think of Stefan.

It’s not the arm wrestling. It’s you, Milla. You have to win every bloody argument. Every bloody conversation even.

I think of Vinny, a martial arts trainer at the gym, whom I was seeing until a few months ago. I’m tired of trying to keep up with you, Milla.

It’s not just snowboarding, is it? It’s how I am.

Brent’s voice again. Winning’s not everything.

But for me, winning is everything. When I want something, I go all out to get it, no matter what the consequences. Friendships don’t figure, or other people’s feelings. And while that may be what it takes to reach the top in a sport, it causes problems in the rest of your life.

That’s why I don’t have any real friends. It’s why all my relationships go wrong. And now I’m paying the price. I’m completely and utterly alone.

Odette’s face floats before my eyes. I sink lower into the blackness. She’s still in a chair, Curtis said, and can’t move her arms much. But technology is so advanced these days. Does she have some kind of independence?

I can’t believe Curtis looked her up and I didn’t. Some friend I am. She said she never wanted to see me again, but that was right after the accident. Now that she’s had so much time to come to terms with it, she might feel differently.

I owe it to her to try again.

Except I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face her after what I did.

Curtis’s voice. You’re just as bad as her.

I curl into a ball. Pain shoots up my leg, but I deserve every bit of it. I’d hoped this reunion would give me a chance to repair some relationships, but I screwed up too badly and they’re irreparable. Brent’s still hurting over our breakup; Curtis suspects me of something terrible—and I did do something terrible; and Heather and I are so different, I can’t relate to her.

As for Dale, my selfish insistence on trying a backflip delayed the others in the search for Heather. And may well have caused his death.

I press my knuckles into my eye sockets. I can’t bear to think about him out there. But I won’t cry, not until I’m safely down from here.

My secret is eating me up. It’s time to come clean. I throw the duvets off and hobble once more into the corridor. And knock on Curtis’s door.

Footsteps, the click of a catch, and the door swings open. Curtis stands there in his long-sleeved black thermal top and trousers. I force myself to meet his gaze. Tell him. I open my mouth, but I can’t find the words.