Page 20 of Just Let Go

“I don’t doubt it.”

“I need to get out there.” Did he sound desperate? He felt desperate. And he hated that.

“You have a rare chance to learn something here, Mr. Benson. I suggest you stop trying to figure out a way out of it and get on board.”

“You want me to get on board with giving up five weeks of my life to live in this good-for-nothing town, wasting my time on some stupid festival and parading around your little rinky-dink ski lodge like I’m a circus act?”

The judge folded his hands on the table in front of him but didn’t respond.

Grady couldn’t believe this. “You know what I think, Your Honor?”

“Can’t wait to hear.”

“I think you just want to stick it to guys like me. You live for it. Makes you feel important in this tiny little town you live in.”

A tense hush filled the room as Grady pushed his chair away from the table. “Thank you, Sheriff, for inviting me over for dinner. It was nice to meet you all.” Then he turned to the judge. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. My real one.”

He turned to go, but before he reached the front door, he overheard the judge say, “That one has a lot to learn.”

Grady snatched his coat off of a hook and pulled it on as he walked out onto the porch, a memory rushing back so fast it almost knocked him down.

“He’s reckless, Randall.”

Thirteen-year-old Grady stood between his father and his ski coach—Benji just a few feet away.

“He’s fearless,” Grady’s dad said. “Isn’t that something you can work with in a young skier?”

The coach shook his head. “Look, your son has more natural ability and raw talent than anyone I’ve ever trained.”

Grady remembered how that comment had buoyed him, made him feel special somehow.

The coach glanced at Grady. “But he doesn’t listen. Raw talent will only take you so far, kid. You’ve still got a lot to learn.”

They left the slopes that day and his dad gave him an earful, but even his father’s insistence that Grady listen to his coach and make the necessary adjustments didn’t change anything. Grady was fast—faster than anyone his age—and that was what mattered. He didn’t care if he had the proper technique. He just wanted to win.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out as he opened the door to his car and got inside.

Pete. Finally.

Grady started the car and answered the call. “You better have a great explanation for going radio silent the last two days.”

“Grady. Sorry I’ve been out of touch.”

“Are you seeing what’s going on here?”

“I saw the news, yes.” Sometimes Grady hated how level-headed Pete was. Shouldn’t the man be outraged that his biggest client was stuck in some podunk tourist town? Shouldn’t he be on the first plane to Michigan to take care of this for him?

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what are we going to do to get me out of here?”

There was a pause on Pete’s end.

“Pete?”

“I don’t see that there’s much we can do, Grady.”

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