I click my phone shut when Spencer rips open the driver’s side door and climbs into the car.
All night, I hold my phone in the palm of my hand, waiting for that vibration to signal Wes’s response, but none comes.
Six days until competition
Wes isn’t in the gym the next morning. I check my phone: still no messages. I know he got my last one because his phone marked it as read. My stomach’s been twisted in knots ever since.
I assumed he got busy last night with the attorney, not that he was ignoring me. But now…I snatch my phone and type the words before I can think better of the juvenile course of action.
Me:Are we still practicing today? No one’s here. Didn’t know if something came up.
Spencer:Of course. Be there in an hour, as always.
I sigh, about to set my phone down, when it pings again.
Spencer:You two are quite the pair.
Me:What are you talking about?
Spencer:You want to know where Wes is, but you texted me.
Isla:That’s not why I was wondering.
Spencer: Right. And I have a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you.
Well, clearly, Wes is fine, or my text to Spencer would’ve alarmed him. So Spencer knows where Wes is, and I don’t, which makes total sense. They’re brothers, and who am I? Just some woman who teaches figure skating lessons at Wes’s rink, partners with his brother for figure skating, and hooks up with him when the mood strikes. Wes and I aren’t anything formal, just several loose connections that confuse the clear boundaries in my mind.
But that day at the lake, tangled up in each other in his truck, we felt likesomething. Something more than a casual hookup. Something scary and real.
Wes said he wanted me to cling to him, that I should be prepared for him not to let go. But maybe he got caught up in the moment, and my 911 text made him realize I didn’t, that I meant what I said.
I don’t realize how fast I’m running on the treadmill until Spencer appears in the mirror behind me. I stumble and lose one second of momentum, nearly catapulting off the treadmill. I sprint as quickly as I can to keep pace with the belt while hurriedly slamming on the speed button to bring it down.
“Are you trying to injure yourself before the competition?”
My hands land on my knees as I suck in oxygen. “I didn’t realize how fast I was running,” I answer through labored breaths. “Sometimes my hyperfocus takes over. It’s a coping mechanism, I guess.”
Spencer’s eyes widen. “You love him.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You love Wes.” He drifts closer to me, eyes running over my face. “I should’ve seen it sooner, but you’re kind of an evil genius at concealing your emotions.”
Goosebumps pebble across my arms. “That’s not—”
“You don’t need to admit it to me, Isla, but you should tell him.”
“You told me to let him loose when real feelings came into play.”
“Because I didn’t think you’d fall for him.” Spencer holds up a hand when I try to open my mouth to deny it again. “Hypothetically. Oh, this is working out better than I thought. Maybe I’m the real evil genius.”
My heartbeat thrums faster—a betrayal. I know that he’s not saying this to poke and prod at my insecurities. He thinks he’s helping me. He’s also my opposite when it comes to filtering his thoughts, not always catching himself before he spills them onto the table for all to see.
“Oh, and since I know you’re wondering, Wes is out of town. We found out there’s a lien on our father’s house, which needs to be resolved before we can complete the sale. It might take a few days. He didn’t want to wait and lose the deal.”
Hence the lawyers.
“Why didn’t he tell me that?”
