Like how I have a connection with Nico.
Should I compare him to my dog? No, probably not. But my affection toward him is similar. In the way that I miss him when I’m not with him. Think about him all the time. Want to hug him. Hold him. Kiss him. Want him to be home with me.
Damn…
“I think I am too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nico
The medal feels heavy around my neck, and not in the good way I thought it would. It’s weighing me down because I know this means it’s the end. I did my job; I did what I wanted… I won.
Now it’s time to go home.
I walk with my team into the stadium. We’re surrounded by others, all celebrating the end of the Olympics.
We did it. We made it.
Some came out on top. Some didn’t.
Even if I didn’t have this medal, I met Roman. And that’s something… even if it isn’t going to last.
Music is blasting, people are celebrating. I’m being pulled in every direction for pictures and questions. Other gold medalists want photos with me, holding up our medals. People who didn’twin want photos, and of course I accept them all. I talk with people. Shake hands. Try to communicate with those who hardly speak English—I do my best, but I feel ridiculous when someone from France speaks to me and I can barely respond in a way that makes sense.
We end up laughing about it, and Étienne comes to my rescue more than once.
“You really should have paid more attention when we were younger,” he says through his teeth as he hooks his arm in mine and pulls me away.
“Focusing isn’t easy sometimes,” I mutter.
“You understand it just fine.”
“Don’t really have a choice when Mémé and Pépé are screaming at me to do things.”
He sighs, weaving me through people. They smile, wave, stop us for photos.
I love it.
It all just feels a little empty today.
“You’re in your element. How will you go home and go back to being boring?”
“I won a gold medal, Étienne. You can never call me boring again.”
“Maybe not, but you will always be my littleRabat-joie.”
He scruffs my hair and I shove him away. We laugh as we continue through the crowd.
“Where is your hockey player?” he whispers.
I shrug. “Don’t know.”
“As if you’re not thinking about it.”
“Oh, I didn’t say that. I’ve been looking for him since we got here.”
“They’re tall—it’s not like they can hide.”
