But it’s not enough.
Those are surface details. The sort of things anyone who runs a background check can find out.
“Yes,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing absent patterns along my chest. “I competed when I was fifteen.”
“That’s extraordinary. And you won gold.”
She only shrugs, as though it’s no great achievement.
I lift her chin, making her meet my eyes.
“It is extraordinary, Piper,” I repeat, more firmly.
She holds my gaze for a moment, a flash of emotion crosses her face, before she nods faintly and lets her head rest back on my chest.
“How do you feel about competing again?” I ask. “And why haven’t you until now?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “Terrified, I suppose. But I want to compete. I do. It’s still a dream of mine. I just don’t know if I’m ready.”
Her fingers go still.
“My mum…”
The words die on her lips before she can finish the thought.
I resist the urge to press for more, because with Piper that approach has never worked. The harder I push, the further she withdraws, so I give her the time she needs and wait.
“My mum was an ice skater,” she continues after a moment. “Matilda Ashthorne. I don’t know if you’ve heard of her.”
I have.
Not because I follow ice skating, but because I know everything there is to know about Piper, including her family.
“She competed internationally,” she goes on. “Singles and pairs. Three Olympic gold medals.”
There’s something fragile in the way she says it. Like she’s holding the memory tightly.
“I always thought I’d follow in her footsteps,” she admits.
She falls silent again, and once more I let her.
“But I’ve already lost so much time,” she says. “If I don’t try again next season, I may never get another real chance.”
I shake my head in disbelief.
“You’re speaking as though your time has already passed,” I say. “You’re what, twenty-one?”
“Twenty-two,” she corrects softly.
“Twenty-two,” I repeat. “That’s hardly the end of anything.”
A small smile touches her lips, though it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“In this world, it can be.”
“Then why did you stop?” I ask again.
“I saw you watching me, you know,” she says suddenly, a genuine smile touches her lips, and I have the absurd urge to lean over and kiss it. “On the ice.”
