If this isn’t the standard, I don’t know what is, and no one else will ever be able to measure up.
There’s another word floating in my head. It’s not one Kali mentioned, but I’ve been hearing whispers of it for weeks: when Brody showed up to my competition. When he fucked me on his desk and told me he saw a future with me. Every time he smiles, and it feels like I’m seeing the sun for the first time in days.
Love.
“Talk to me, Hannah,” Brody says, bringing me out of the fog. “What happened today that made you upset?”
“I had a conversation with my figure skating coach—former figure skating coach, I guess I should say—about training with them again. The competition was a confidence booster, and I thought I was ready to test the waters again.” I play with the friendship bracelet on my wrist, keeping Liv’s gift with me all this time. “It didn’t go well. She told me that I gave up. She told me I disappointed her, and there are people waiting for my spot.”
“She said that to you?” Brody’s thumb digs deeper into my skin. “Fuck that. Why are you being punished for prioritizing your mental health?”
“The saddest part is, she’s right. What privilege do I think I have over everyone else? A couple medals that I won years ago?” I shrug. “I need to make the decision about where my career is going. Do I want to put my body through months of training and exercise only to panic and withdraw weeks before a qualifying event? Or do I walk away now, proud of everything I’ve accomplished?”
“Only you can answer that, but it boils down to what makes you happy. If you woke up tomorrow and only had one day to live, how would you spend it?”
“I’m not sure I have the capacity to answer that question.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“I’d want to go skating for an hour or two,” I tell him. “Not with choreography or drills or intense training. I’d just glide around the rink, happy as can be.” My smile starts slow. “I’d work with Liv, and you’d be there too. I’d go to sleep proud. I’d know it was a good day because I did the things I wanted to do, not what other people wanted me to do.”
“I think you have your answer, sweetheart.”
“Wow. Am I really going to retire at twenty-five?”
“If you do, skating will always be there.” Brody adjusts our positions, both of us lying on our sides. “I read about a woman who stopped skating for sixteen years, came back, and now does pairs. She just won a world title at forty.”
I giggle at the thought of him reading the article on his iPad, glasses slipping down his nose. “Thank you for making me feel better, but you know you could’ve told me this on the phone, right? So you didn’t have to sacrifice your sleep schedule.”
“I could’ve, but why would I let you sit at home alone when I could easily get to you.” His fingers comb through my hair, taking his time when he finds a knot. “I’ll catch the seven a.m. flight out of DCA and be at the arena in time for morning skate. And, between you and me, your bed is much more comfortable than another stay at a Holiday Inn.”
“True, but you don’t get the free continental breakfast here.” I spin in his arms, finding his eyes closed. Blissful, content. “No biscuits. No oatmeal.”
“But it has you, and that’s more than enough,” he says.
“Brody?”
“Yeah?”
“You are, without a doubt, my favorite person in the world.”
“Funny.” He cracks open an eyes, gaze meeting mine. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”
A fresh wave of tears starts to fall, and I don’t know if it’s the loss I’m grieving or the enormity of my feelings for him. Brody doesn’t ask, holding me in his arms in an embrace that feels like coming home after a long day.
That word echoes in my ears again, even louder when he lifts me off the couch and carries me to my bed. When he takes off the rest of his clothes and joins me under the covers, murmuring how proud he is of me while we doze off to sleep.
Love.
THIRTY-EIGHT
BRODY
Puck Kings and Daddy Things (+ our savior, BS)
Miller
Book club has been moved to Tuesday evening at Grant’s house.
