He blinked. “I didn’t say a word.”
Mom snorted. “You didn’t have to. Dean has moved on.” Her gaze alighted on me.
“Dad, I’m done.” And I needed to change the subject.
He nodded, then looked around for the server.
Eventually the bill arrived, and by the time we stepped outside the restaurant, the temperature had dropped sharply. Mom tucked herself against Dad’s side beneath the awning while we waited for their taxi, streetlights reflecting gold against wet pavement.
“You should come back to the hotel with us,” Mom said. “At least for an hour. We’ve barely seen you since we arrived.”
Dad nodded toward the road. “There’s a couch in our suite. And significantly fewer journalists lurking in the hallway.”
I hesitated.
Dad caught it instantly. “Oh.”
I shoved my hands deeper into my coat pockets. “I just want a low-key night.”
Mom studied my face with the same sharp attention she used on struggling students who insisted they were fine while very obviously not being fine. “Dean.”
That nearly broke me.
I wanted to tell them everything suddenly. The secrecy had started wearing grooves into me these past few weeks, carving out space where honesty should’ve been. But Luka’s face rose immediatelyin my mind—careful in public, constantly measuring who might overhear him, carrying years of fear so instinctively he probably no longer noticed himself doing it.
I wasn’t going to make his life harder because I wanted relief from hiding.
“I’m okay,” I said.
Dad watched me another moment before nodding. “Right. Convincing performance. You should consider acting if skating falls through.”
I laughed despite the clenching in my stomach.
Then he reached over and squeezed the back of my neck, the gesture so familiar it punched straight through my chest.
“Whoever’s got you this distracted,” he said, “I hope she’s worth it.”
The answer came so fast inside my head, it hurt.
Heis.
I swallowed the words before they could escape.
Then I caught Mom watching me again, and I got a severe case of goosebumps.
Thankfully, their taxi pulled up moments later. Mom kissed my cheek before climbing inside, and Dad paused beside the open door long enough to look at me one last time.
“Get some sleep, Olympic champion.”
I grinned. “I’ll try.” And then they were gone.
I stood there for a moment after the car got swallowed up in traffic, cold air biting against my face. And before I could overthink it any longer, I headed for the Metro to go to the Village.
Toward Luka.
My room lookedlike a celebration nobody hadstarted yet.
Flowers crowded the desk beside unopened champagne bottles. My medal lay on the nightstand catching stray light from the lamps, and every time I glanced at it, part of me still expected the whole thing to dissolve like a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation.
