When I arrived back in Park City in the fall, my shin was healed but I was emotionally exhausted and ready to be absorbed in my training. On the one hand, I had loved being at home with Penny and Ava. I’d always thought it was odd that people talked about the way babies’ heads smelled—until I’d held Ava for the first time. To feel her tiny hand curl around my finger, to absorb the warmth of her as she slept on my chest, leant being human a new and unexpected beauty. But the constant tide of worry was almost unbearable; when would she move on from this place to become a healthy little girl? Because in all the reports from the doctors, there was never any “why”—it was just one of those tragic mysteries.

“Sorry the little lady isn’t doing well,” Luke said the night I got back to Park City. “I’m sure she’ll turn around. One of my cousins had a preemie and it was rough for the first year but you should see the kid now, he’s a bruiser!”

Luke knew I was upset with him that he’d only visited me once while I was in CDA, and he was a little upset with me that I was upset with him. This was our deal, we were stronger together than we were apart because we never asked the other to sacrifice any career opportunities. While I’d been with Penny that summer, Luke had been traveling with Red Bull in between training camps, shooting videos of him cross-training, mountain biking, surfing, and interviewing other pro athletes. I was breaking with our pact by expecting him to be by my side. And, as he kept pointing out, there was nothing he could do, as though doing were even the point. When he did visit, he shuffled anxiously around the periphery of my family’s house. Luke had no capacity to give me the kind of calm, tacit support that I needed. Blair, on the other hand, had risen to the occasion during his more frequent visits that summer, spending quiet hours watching movies with my sister and me while Ava slept. Going to the gym with me for my long, tedious rehab workouts. Helping me clean Penny’s kitchen when it got beyond the pale, once even going to the gun range with Stewart to help him blow off steam. Penny was bearing up better than her husband in the face of their child’s setbacks—Stewart’s eyes were purple-rimmed and he looked constantly haunted, while Penny was beatific and brave, tireless in her quest to help her daughter.