I blinked again. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He shrugged. “I trust you.” Mark clapped a handagainst my shoulder. “Besides, if emotional devastation starts improving your component scores, I may encourage more romantic crises in future seasons.”
I barked out a real laugh at that.
He squeezed my shoulder. “You have it in you to be one of the most amazing skaters our country has ever produced.” He smiled. “I never made it to Olympic podium level.”
“Which always surprised me.” I’d seen videos of Mark skating back when he was in his twenties, about twenty years ago. I knew he’d been in the top ten at Worlds. I also knew he’d retired due to injury.
“I was known for beautiful skating, not for consistency. You have both.” He absently twisted his wedding ring. Then he glanced toward the door where Ethan had walked in, obviously for his time on the ice. “I envy guys like him.”
I followed his gaze toward Ethan. “Why?”
“Because he never had to choose between being honest and being safe.”
Then he looked back at me. “That’s not a choice I ever want Luka making either.” His smile was kinda sad. “I came up in a time when being openly gay was basically a career risk. So I stayed closeted during my competitive years. I dated quietly. I never brought a partner into public spaces. ButafterI retired? I just stopped hiding.” His eyes shone. “And then I met David, who is hands-down the most stable, grounded,normalman I’ve ever met.” He squeezed my shoulder once more. “Now get back on the ice, and leave me to coach our Olympic drama queen over there. But do me a favor tonight? Trynotto stare soulfully into the middle distance while skating?” He grinned. “Judges hate that.”
And with that, he walked toward Ethan, coffee cup in one hand.
I’d been up way too early, the first one on the ice, hoping to skate away the ache that hadn’t left me all night.
Turns out you can’t outskate something that’s already inside your chest.
I also needed to get out of there, because there was a real danger of Luka and Mila turning up, and I had a feeling that would only make the pain worse.
Luka
In the practice rink,everything reflected: the light off the ice; sound off the boards. Usually I liked that.
Today it made hiding impossible.
At least he isn’t here.
I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.
Walking out of his room had not flicked off a switch. He was still in my head. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel his hands on my skin, his breath on my neck…
Him inside me.
Focus, Luka.
Right then I needed that off switchsobadly.
Mila circled past me as I reset for the throw jump entry again, her ponytail snapping behind her. We took our positions. Years together had made some things instinctive, such as weight shifts, timing… trust.
Those years also meant we knew each other inside-out.
Mila said nothing until we reached the boards. “You anticipated the rotation late.”
“I know.”
Her gaze stayed on me for another second before she pushed away from the boards. “Then we do it again.”
We repeated the sequence twice more, and while the second was cleaner, the third was worse. Neither of us fell—it wasn’tthatlevel of catastrophic—but I felt… disconnected.
By the time music from another skater’s session drifted across the rink, sweat chilled beneath the back of my training shirt despite the cold.
Mila skated toward me. “Take five minutes.”
