“Okay, this is not me wearing my US Figure Skating team hat, all right?”
Luka blinked. “Do you have other hats?”
She nodded, then handed him a card.
Luka took it and read aloud, “Helen Brooks, Director of Athlete Development, Broadmoor Skating Club.”
I caught my breath.Of course.
He frowned. “Where is this club?”
I answered for her. “Colorado Springs. It’s where I train.”
Helen nodded again. “It’s also where US Figure Skating headquarters are located. Olympic athletes relocate there all the time.” She gazed at Luka. “You’re an Olympic silver medalist, Luka. You’re exactly the kind of athlete who qualifies for an elite-athlete visa. You don’t have to answer me now, but I wanted you to know where we’re up to with your situation.” Helen looked him in the eye. “I’m offering you a coaching and athlete-development position at the Broadmoor. Ice time, training support, immigration assistance. A pathway into coaching and choreography when you're ready. We already have legal representation lined up.”
“Where would I live?” Luka’s eyes were enormous.
“We’ll arrange temporary athlete housing, a club-arranged apartment, or a furnished rental for you.”
“You could always stay with me,” I blurted.
Luka swallowed. “That is a conversation for another time.”
“The point is, if you say yes, we can have you on a plane as soon as the Games are over. The paperwork has already been prepared.” Helen’s eyes were warm. “Like I said, you don’t have to answer right this second. I’m simply giving you all the available information.” She straightened. “And right now I think you need a little breathing space.” She flashed me a smile. “Take care of this one?”
“I intend to.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I thought you might.” Then she turned and headed along the corridor.
Luka shuddered out a breath. “This was not part of my Olympic planning.”
From behind us came a loud squeal, and we both turned to see Donna envelop Mila in an enthusiastic hug. As we drew nearer, Donna’s voice rang out.
“Oh, sweetheart. You did great.”
Mila laughed. “I spent most of the program standing at the boards.”
“And you werewonderfulat it.” Donna kissed her cheek, then pulled back to encompass the three of us in her stare. “I’m so proud of you.”
Then my phone buzzed. I pulled it from my pocket, took one look at the screen, and started laughing. “It’s my mom.”
Ethan snickered. “Is she crying yet?”
“Undoubtedly. She’s also yelling in capitals.” The message consisted of an alarming number of crying emojis followed by:
I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.
YOUR FATHER IS CRYING.
A second message arrived before I could finish reading the first.
YOUR FATHER SAYS HE IS NOT CRYING.
Another notification appeared almost immediately, this one from Dad.
Your mother is exaggerating.
There was a pause before the next message arrived.
