I stepped inside and closed it. Theclicksounded unnaturally loud.
The bedside lamp was still on. Light spilled across the carpet, catching on the unopened water bottles lined neatly across the desk.
I removed my phone from my pocket and placed it on the table. Then I shrugged out of my jacket and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting against my knees. My body ached pleasantly from the skate, but my mind refused to quiet. Too many things pressed at me simultaneously: the upcoming free skate, the federation scrutiny, thelook on Sokolov’s face in the Kiss and Cry whenever my attention drifted for even a second too long.
I closed my eyes, opening them when vibration broke the silence. I glanced at my phone.
Home.
I stared at the screen, and for one irrational second, I considered letting it ring.
Dean would have ignored the call.
I couldn’t.
Some habits are carved too deeply.
I answered.
“Luka.” My mother sounded calm, composed. “We watched your performance.”
I straightened instinctively, years of conditioning moving through me before thought had a chance to catch up. “Yes?”
“You looked very professional.”
Not happy, not extraordinary.
Professional.
“Thank you,” I said in a low voice.
A pause followed, and I could hear the faint rustle of movement on the other end of the line before my father took the phone.
“There’s been some commentary internationally,” he said.
No comment about the skate.
I exhaled through my nose and stared at my reflection in the darkened window across the room. “I’m aware.”
“Nothing concrete,” he added quickly. “Only interpretation.”
The federation’s favorite word whenever truth became inconvenient.
“They’re reading into your demeanor,” my mother said after taking the phone back.
“And your associations,” my father called out.
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Yes.” I swallowed.
“Your federation has already flagged the coverage,” my father continued. “They’re in contact with our committee.”
Of course they were. They would be discussing strategies, optics. Everything handled, contained…
“You don’t need to engage with any of it,” my mother said gently. “They’ll issue statements if necessary.”
Statements. Anything except honesty.
