THE FALL LINE: Chapter Three

Thank you so much to everyone who’s been reading The Fall Line. I didn’t expect to fall in love with fiction again quite like this, but here we are—sharing bruised egos, golden light, and boys who don’t know what to do with the feelings catching in their throats.

Chapter 3 is now live for paid subscribers. In this one, the stakes start to shift. Cole keeps pushing harder, Jamie tries to keep up, and a fall under the Tower 12 cliffs cracks something open—inside his body, and maybe inside his heart too.

This is a story about ambition, intimacy, and the things we’re willing to risk when we think no one’s watching. If you’re just joining us, Chapter 1 is here. And if you’ve made it this far—thank you. I promise the drop is worth it.

Chapter Three: Tower 12

It snowed a little that morning. Not enough to matter. Just a thin crust over what had already been carved and baked and frozen again. The kind of snow that made you think twice.

Cole didn’t think twice.

“Tower 12?” he said over instant coffee in the van, already buckling his boots. “It’s clear. Let’s go.”

Jamie hesitated. His thighs still ached from Sherwood. His shoulder was stiff from a weird landing the day before. But he nodded. Of course he did.

Tower 12 sat under the Funitel. Above, the cable line hummed like static. Tourists floated past in glassy cabins, staring down like the cliffs were set dressing. But locals knew what it meant to drop from there. It meant pressure. It meant eyes. It meant don’t fuck up.

Cole was quiet on the traverse. Focused. That locked-in look he got when he was hunting something. He didn’t check if Jamie was behind him.

Jamie followed anyway. Legs burning. They sidestepped into place above the drop, and the exposure hit all at once. Trees below. Rocks everywhere. The line was narrow and sharp.

Jamie took a shaky breath. “What’s your plan?”

Cole waited a beat.

“Straight to the nose, cut right, throw it off the second rock. Speed check low. You?”

Jamie stared down. His chest felt tight. He didn’t have a plan. He was just trying to keep up.

“I’ll figure it out.”

Cole looked at him for a moment. Not concern—just calculation.

Then he dropped.

Jamie watched him move like he always did—like gravity was optional. His landing sent up a spray of crust and powder. Then he was gone.

Cole had been pushing harder every day. Steeper drops. Riskier lines. Always with that edge: “You’re good enough. You just don’t know it yet.”

But standing above Tower 12, that confidence felt far away.

Jamie clicked in. Edges sharp. Breath short.

He counted to three.

And went.

First turn—fine.

Second—late.

Third—he caught an edge.

Not a huge fall. Not the kind that makes the highlight reels. Just enough to send him sideways, skis above him, shoulder to packed snow. The kind that knocks the wind out of you. The kind where the lift overhead is full of people watching.

He lay there a second. Staring up at the sky.

Then he sat up. Spat blood into the snow. His lip was split.

Cole skated back up. Not all the way. Just close enough to shout.

“You good?”

Jamie nodded.

Didn’t trust his voice.

Cole turned and glided away.

***

That night, Mia called.

Jamie was half-asleep in the van, shoulder stiff, face throbbing, when Cole climbed in, cheeks pink from the cold, smiling like it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“She’s moving out,” he said. “Got a job at the coffee shop under the lifts. Found a couch in Tahoe City.”

He dropped onto the bench. Kicked off his boots.

“She’ll be here by the weekend.”

Jamie nodded. Pulled the blanket tighter. He’d met Mia once, back in Vermont. She was cool. Easy. The kind of girl who looked good in a hoodie and didn’t mind sand in her shoes. She and Cole made sense.

Outside, the wind picked up. A branch tapped against the van.

Jamie rolled onto his good shoulder and closed his eyes.

The Fall Line continues next week with Chapter Four, where Mia steps into the van—and into the space between them. New routines begin. Lines get crossed. And Jamie starts to wonder if the thing between them is just in his head… or something they’re all moving toward together.