“Promise me this distance won’t be forever. You’ll come back to me and I’ll be here waiting for the day I get to hold you again.”
The heartfelt words hit me like a blow and a balm all at once. I’ve heard sweet nothings from men who said all the right things but never meant any of them. With Teddy, it doesn’tsound like a line, more like a vow. A steady promise from a man who’s lost almost everything and chooses us as his new future.
I brush at my tears with trembling hands. “The moment I’m done, I’ll find you.” The words shake, but they’re the most certain thing I’ve ever said. “I promise.”
The world outside his room feels too big and cold, but our connection right here feels like a home I didn’t know I’d been searching for. I press our joined hands to my chest, right over the frantic beat of my heart, silently swearing that no amount of distance will break this.
“Stay safe, Ivy, my light,” he chokes out, heartbreak etched in the wet tracks on his cheeks.
Pressing one last kiss to his lips, slow and lingering, I memorize the taste of him. Salt and warmth, a mix of tears and something uniquely Teddy I know I’ll crave the moment it’s gone. I force myself to pull away, step by step, until I’m out the door. Walking out of his room feels like leaving half of my heart behind with him. Every instinct screams to crawl back into his arms and stay there forever.
The January air is cold enough to sting. The tears start to freeze on my cheeks, but I keep walking. If I turn back even once, I won’t survive leaving him again. Each step feels wrong, like I’m ripping something vital out of myself, but forward is the only direction I have.
I’m chasing the purpose I found in the sport I love, the one that has demanded sweat, blood, and endless hours of discipline. It’s tested and broken me, and built me back stronger every time. Ice is in my veins, and racing is in my bones. Nothing can stop me now. Not even the man who managed to change my life in a single month. Even if what’s left of my heart still calls his name.
37
IVY
JANUARY 6
If I didn’t love Kayla already, I definitely do now; she gave me what can only be described as miracle sleeping pills. They knocked me out for most of the fourteen-hour flight from New York to Tokyo. One minute I was curled up in my business class seat my sponsor paid for, the next I was waking up somewhere over the Pacific with dry lips and a crick in my neck.
Or it might’ve been the sheer, bone-deep exhaustion from saying goodbye to Teddy and watching him cry. I’ve seen a lot of things in all my years of working as a nurse—tears, pain, rage, and grief in every possible form. But nothing prepared me forhissadness. Seeing him so upset shattered me. I wanted to stay so badly. I wanted to climb into the bed with him and pull the blankets over both of us. I wanted to wrap myself around him until we couldn’t tell where he ended and I began, but I couldn’t.
Even now, curled up in a Nagano hotel room with Dean passed out in the bed next to mine and our gear stacked neatly by thedoor, I keep reaching for my phone. My fingers itch to text him, to ask him if he feels as awful as I do. But it won’t do either of us any good.
Instead, I open a new message thread and text the person who’s always been my safe space.
Ivy
Landed safe, jet lag already kicking my ass. The room is nice though and Dean still snores like Dad. I’ll call tomorrow when I’m less tired.
Her reply comes within minutes. It’s past midnight here, but morning back home.
Mamma Campbell
Thanks for checking in, sweetheart. How are you really doing?
I stare at her message for a long time. I could lie and say I’m excited, that it feels good to be back on the Circuit. But it would only be half the truth.
Ivy
I feel hollow. Like I’ve forgotten something behind.
Let me correct that…someone behind.
Mamma Campbell
You’re allowed to miss him, my sweet Ivy. But remember, New York and him will wait for you.
Her words don’t erase the ache of leaving, yet remind me that distance isn’t permanent. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes and I swipe them away.
Ivy
Love you
Mamma Campbell
