Around me, the arena buzzed with that particular Olympic energy that only existed before the final skate of the night. Anticipation crackled through the building hard enough to feel physical. Japan sat in first. The US held second. Velkarya could still blow the standings apart with one clean free skate.
Pressure explained part of what I was feeling.
I leaned forward in my seat near the boards, elbows braced against my knees while arena staff reset the entry gate across the rink.
Then Luka and Mila appeared.
Most people would have looked at him and seen exactly what they always saw: composure, focus, Olympic-level control. He stood beside Mila in his dark warm-up jacket with his shoulders straightand expression unreadable while officials spoke to them near the entrance tunnel.
But I knew Luka now, and I knew what he looked like when he was holding himself together by force.
He hadn’t looked toward me once during warm-up or the introductions. He was avoiding looking in my direction now.
“You’re grinding your teeth,” Mark said next to me.
I blinked. “What?”
“You do it when you’re anxious.”
I forced my jaw to unclench. “Sorry.”
“Quit worrying. Nathan and Brooke will be on that podium, there’s no stopping that now.”
I wasn’t about to tell him Nathan and Brooke were the last thing on my mind.
Yet more evidence that I was a selfish asshole.
He glanced sideways at me before returning his attention to the rink. “No messages?”
“Hmm?” My thoughts were still elsewhere.
“From Luka.”
That startled me enough to look at him. “You noticed that too?”
“Dean.” His tone carried dry affection. “You’ve checked your phone fourteen times in six minutes.”
“Only fourteen?”
“That’sthe spirit.”
Normally I would’ve laughed. Tonight I couldn’t quite manage it.
Across the rink Luka adjusted the cuffs of his jacket while Mila spoke to him. He nodded at whatever she said, but the movement looked automatic somehow, delayed by half a second.
Waytoo controlled.
Mark followed my line of sight. “He looks wound tight.”
“Yeah.” The word scraped out rougher than I intended. Because now that I could see Luka clearly, instinct kept screaming louder inside me.
This didn’t look like nerves, or normal Olympic pressure.
A terrible thought settled on me, heavy and dull.
What if they got to him?
I stared at Luka across the arena, trying unsuccessfully to catch his eye.
