“I went to see Coach Miller while you were away,” I started. “Sabrina basically forced me. But I’m glad she did. We set up a training schedule. Today was my first day.”
“When you weren’t at the rink this morning, I thought you were avoiding me.” A pause. “I’m glad you’re working with a coach, Théo.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I should have told you.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m working on the open communication thing. It’s… a process. She also made me interview therapists,” I added. “I found one I don’t completely hate. I start next week.”
“Thank you for telling me.” He reached out, his hand settling briefly on my shoulder. “I’m here for you. However you need me to be.”
I scratched behind Aspen’s ears, keeping my eyes on his fur because it was easier than focusing on Derek’s face. Now that the easy part was over with, I didn’t know where to begin.
“The reason I left Toronto…” I swallowed. “It wasn’t one thing. It was everything. Every crack I’d been papering over for years finally gave way at the same time.”
The room felt very still.
“I ended up in treatment for 90 days,” I said. Flat. Clinical.
Derek didn’t speak. His hand found mine on Aspen’s back, fingers threading through mine.
“I was starving myself,” I went on. “Not eating enough, training too much. Taking too much Adderall to keep my energy up and kill my appetite. I wanted to be lighter. Faster. Better.” A laugh scraped out of me, humourless. “I passed out after a competition. In the locker room. In front of everyone. They took me to the hospital and my levels were… bad. Really bad.”
Derek’s grip tightened, grounding and reassuring.
“Coach Renaud wanted to keep it quiet,” I said. “Protect the program’s reputation. My mom wanted me to get help.” I swallowed hard. “I ended up in a treatment facility in Montréal."
I forced myself to keep going.
“And somewhere in the middle of all that, I broke up with Nico. He came to visit and I told him I couldn’t do it anymore.That I was too fucked up to be with anyone. That he deserved better.”
“Théo…”
“He’s my coach’s nephew,” I said. “Did I mention that part? Renaud’s golden boy. We’d been on and off for almost three years. And I dumped him from a rehab facility and then left the country.”
I finally looked at Derek. He was watching me with those steady dark eyes, no judgment in them. Just concern. Just care.
“So that’s what you’re getting into,” I said. “That’s the mess I come with. Eating disorder. Addiction. Self-harm. A trail of broken relationships.” My voice shook, which annoyed me. “I’m a disaster, Derek. I keep telling you that and you don’t seem to hear me.”
“I hear you,” he said quietly. “I just don’t agree with your conclusion.”
“Which part?”
“The part where you think any of that makes you unworthy of…” He paused, searching. “Of connection. Of care. Of someone wanting to be with you anyway.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.” He squeezed my hand. “I know you work harder than anyone I’ve ever met. I know you love your brother even though you’re very different people. I know you’re softer than you let people see.” His mouth twitched. “And I know Aspen adores you and he’s an excellent judge of character.”
A laugh escaped me, unwilling.
“And I know you came here tonight to tell me the worst things about yourself,” he said, catching my eyes, “probably hoping I’d run.”
He tilted his head.
“I’m not running, snowdrop.”
“You should.”
“Maybe.” His smile was soft and crooked. “But I’ve never been very good at doing what I should.”
I wasn’t sure of much at the moment but I was sure I wanted him. I reached for his hand and pulled him up.
