Kayla and I exchange a knowing look, followed by both of us rolling our eyes, but there’s warmth in the action. Max shakes his head, not even bothering to hide his smirk. We cool down together, moving in the comfortable rhythm shaped by many training sessions together. My heartbeat slows, but the adrenaline lingers, buzzing in my fingertips and toes. Snow outside the big windows drifts down in lazy flakes, making Lake Placid look like a scene from a postcard.
We hit the locker rooms, and the shower’s blast is its own kind of therapy. My legs tremble like a newborn foal’s, my arms hang leaden, and even my brain hums with leftover exhaustion. I stay under longer than I should and let the heat work its way deep into my muscles, before finally dragging myself out.
When we regroup, we're all in sweats and hoodies, our damp hair tucked under beanies. We no longer look like racers. To anyone who doesn’t know us, we’re just exhausted twenty-somethings. Food is the only thing pulling me forward as we drag ourselves down the salted sidewalk, every heavy step carrying the ache of weeks of training and the weight of the season closing in.
By the time we’ve cleared half our meals, Dean leans back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. “So…after Sunday, we’re free people. No racing, no training schedules, and no traveling from one country to another. What’s the plan, everyone?”
“Move to New York,” Kayla says immediately. She pulls her braid over her shoulder, eyes bright despite the dark circles under them. “I’m done with the long distance. Max and I already found an apartment.”
“It’s small, but perfect. Mom went to see it for us yesterday,” Max comments. His following smile says everything; he’s relieved she’s finally moving to the City, and they’ll have their own place together.
“How small are we talking?” Dean asks. “Closet small? Or does it have one of those bathrooms where you’ve gotta turn sideways to brush your teeth?”
Kayla doesn’t miss a beat. “You’ll be lucky if you ever see the place.”
“Oh, come on. You’ll want me to crash on the couch—it’s a win-win. You’ll have comic relief and I get to have a break from living with the rents.”
“Comic relief?” I mutter. “Pretty sure that’s where you get kicked out.”
Dean points his fork at me. “And what about you, middle child? What’s Ivy Sunday’s grand plan?”
“Honestly? I just want to sleep for a week and eat lots of junk food without counting macros or my daily protein intake. Beyond that, I have no clue.”
“Translation: you’re already plotting next season,” he says back.
“I am not!”
“Shetotallyis,” Max cuts in. “And that’s fine. You’ve earned the right to think about it.”
“Meanwhile, I’ll be back at the jobsite yelling at subcontractors. Dad has missed me, I can feel it,” Dean comments.
“Pretty sure no one’s missed your yelling,” our brother points out.
Kayla laughs, giving Max a quick kiss on his cheek. “Good thing you’ll be there to balance Dean out.”
“Someone has to,” Max mutters, and Dean puts on a wounded face.
The teasing rolls on, easy and familiar, and my thoughts slip to Teddy. I’ve been thinking about him more now that the season is nearly over and I’ll see him soon. It hurts to admit how much our communication has sucked lately. None of it was intentional, and we both tried. Still, this has to be the last time we let things fall apart like that.
“Earth to Ivy? Dean waves a fry under my nose. “What’s got you so serious? You already planning your victory speech?”
I blink and shake my head. “Just thinking about dessert.”
“Now that’s the best idea you’ve had all season,” Dean declares, flagging down the server next.
Kayla groans, Max shakes his head, and I can’t help smiling as the laughter carries us forward. For tonight, at least, the race and everything after can wait.
Later, in the hotel lounge, the four of us sprawl across couches and chairs. The TV hums in the background, playing highlights from last week’s news, with the volume turned low. I’m only half-watching, curled up with my knees tucked tight to my chest, when the channel cuts to a press room with the Woodpeckers logo. The caption flashes across the screen:TEDDY SEABORN ANNOUNCES RETIREMENT.
A surprised squeak leaves my lips. Dean glances over from his phone, eyes widening, then darting toward me. Max shifts in his seat, brows furrowing in that protective big brother way he can’t turn off. Kayla watches me, not blinking. She’s been the one I’ve opened up about missing Teddy the most during our time apart.
My entire body aches with the effort of holding everything in, so I push myself up. I can’t do this here, not with all of them studying my face like I’m about to break.
“I’m gonna watch this upstairs,” I manage, already turning my back. None of them stop me. They just let me go, knowing it’s for the best. I need my space.
In my room, I flick on the TV with trembling fingers. Teddy sits behind the mic, framed by the GM and the coach.
The air gets sucked out of the space when he starts speaking. His voice is low and heartbreakingly cautious. My chest tightens hearing it, but not with dread. Cameras flash, reporters murmur, but all I can hear is him, steadying himself with each carefully spoken sentence.
