Chapter 20 – Pure Gold
The World Watches
Late February
Amelia
It's been grueling this past month—the kind of exhaustion that lives inside your bones and refuses to let up. Between practice and trying to escape my private life, it's been more difficult than I imagined.
When Jaxson's last antics blew up on the internet, and Bash kicked me out on Christmas, my life didn't unravel slowly. It imploded.
I didn't waste time grieving.
Nita pulled us into my driveway before dusk. Her brothers were already waiting in their trucks, a small extraction team. We worked fast. Quiet. Surgical. Everything I wanted to keep from my life with Jaxson went into a storage unit before the night was out. I left everything else behind.
By the time the last box was put away, I was ensconced in Nita's parents' living room, a mug of cocoa warming my hands while her family carried on a Christmas party around me, as if normal still existed.
It wasn't the merriest Christmas of my life. Even in a room full of cheerful people, it was the loneliest.
But it was safe, a small oasis of calm in the storm.
No lingering memories stalking me from room to room, waiting to ambush me. No heavy silences to remind me that I no longer mattered. I had finally shed the dead weight of my marriage and left it behind in that big house that had grown cold.
I didn't feel helpless anymore. I felt…
Empowered.
Ready.
Hopeful.
Filled with possibilities.
A blank page… waiting for my story to unfold.
I scrubbed my social media of anyone remotely connected to Jaxson or Bash. Since Bash kicked me to the curb after he realized I was Jaxson's wife, he'd repeatedly tried to contact me. I don't want any lingering digital ghosts breathing down my neck. If healing is to happen, I need space to breathe.
By January, I moved into a condo in a gated community in the adjacent town. Security guards, high fences, cameras, quiet neighbors. Safety.
In my newly acquired peace, I trained, competed, and kept winning
And now, finally, I'm here. At the Olympics.
The ice stretches beneath me, polished to perfection. The arena hums with anticipation, packed with thousands of bodies. My heart lodges in my throat, not because I doubt my ability, but because somewhere buried deep in the marrow of my dreams, Jaxson is supposed to be here.
Cheering.
Proud.
Mine.
When that dream shattered, Bash slipped into the empty space. He had always called me before and after every competition. His deep voice settled me until he crushed me, too.
The music begins.
Everything else dissolves.
My body takes over, muscle memory guiding me in every edge, every lift of my arms, every rotation. The crowd fades into nothing but a hushed buzz, a vibration. I'm breath and blade and momentum.
