And then, I threw back my head and laughed.
epilogue
AIMEE
The Winter Olympics
“Performing for thefirst time since her injury, in a special extended performance, Aimee Bryant —will fulfill her dream of skating on Olympic Ice.”
Unlike the last time I waited to skate out onto the ice, there were no butterflies.
There were no nerves.
The ice was pristine.
The IOC had instituted a new regulation after the accident.
If any skater or pairs had a jump heavy program, the ice was checked for knicks and any other hazards. No one else had suffered the same career ending injury I had, but it was a good precaution.
I hadn’t been sure I would ever skate again. And I knew that I would never skate Olympic ice or see those dreams fulfilled. It took a long time to come to terms with that, but I had, and I was okay. There were other dreams to dream and explore.
I smile at the memory of Lukas getting me to skate for the first time, and the weight that seemed to lift off my entire beingat the feeling of gliding on that little rink at The Lodge. Without him, I most definitely wouldn’t be here. When the call came in, inviting me to perform at the Olympics, I’d initially turned them down. Skating was a fun hobby with Lukas and Zara, and I was now more her cheerleader, with the occasional coaching on the side. He was the one to convince me to do it, to chase the dream of touching my skates to Olympic Ice.
And here I was, staring out at the smooth ice, the flickering lights of the people in the stands, and the low hum of all their voices as they waited for me.
“How do you feel?”
I glanced at Brennan. He’d come with me—everyone had. But somehow, he was the one I had really wanted to come. Because if I was fulfilling this dream, then he needed to be there.
“Like I was born for this.”
His arms uncrossed and he put one around my shoulder, hugging me to his side. I leaned in gratefully. I wasn’t nervous and there were still no butterflies, but having him here with me…that felt right. He gave me another quick squeeze, I sucked in a deep breath, and then stepped out onto the ice.
The lights, the people, the voices—they all started to fade away like they had in the past, as the calm of the performance took over. The closer to the center I moved, the quieter the world became. For a moment, I could see Asher waiting for me, his legs were longer and he always reached his mark first, but then I blinked, and all I saw was empty ice.
I stopped dead center and breathed. This performance was unlike anything I’d seen done. Brennan and I had worked tirelessly to create it—to tell a story.
Mystory.
My story post-Asher.
The rink went totally silent as they waited. I breathed deeply, readying myself for the first note of the music. The lights in the rink went rosy, and the spotlight flicked on.
The piano started, and I shoved off, stepping on the picks of my skates—copying the lyrics before purposefully stumbling and falling. I heard the gasp of the audience. I exaggerated my breathing, and pushed myself back to my feet, letting my skates carry me—making it seem like those first steps were painful.
I was bending, flowing, and skating backwards in winding patterns. I stopped and clutched my hands to my chest, acting, pleading…reaching.
I had loved him so much, and I portrayed that—reaching towards the figure coming out of the shadows as I started moving away. Louis started skating, parallel to me, but all his moves were the opposite of mine. I moved forward, he moved backwards. And then he reached, and I collided with him, and we spun together. We went around and around. His hands caged me up my back, and mine were on either side of his face, and our foreheads were pressed together, eyes shut—like the embrace was painful, but necessary for our survival.
And then Louis let me go, and we fell apart, moving away—back to mirroring each other as we whipped around the ice.
I put everything into the yearning in my moves and expressions. We skated around each other, pushing and pulling—taking elements from that final performance—as the voice sang about the breaking between two people in love, the pain and hurt that comes with it. I picked up speed, twirling around Louis as he reached towards me.
I felt his fingers graze my side, before ripping himself away. This was the breaking of us, the hurt and betrayal I’d felt. I skated in the opposite direction, picking up speed and I knew Louis was matching me on the other side of the ice. We launched into a triple lutz.
We landed in tandem and raced back towards each other, grasping hands and while he leaned back, I dropped low, my body almost parallel to the ground as we spun. When he pulled me back up, he held me close, and I pushed away, anger telegraphed in my movements, and we started a game of chase—him trying to catch me, and I would evade and push away.
We get to one end of the rink, and I leave him—launching myself to the other side, in rough, violent movements into a double lutz and when I knew that when I crossed that center mark, Louis was after me again, and I spun to meet his embrace - him on his knees having skidded over, and his head on my stomach, my arms around him, my head bent.
