Page 109 of Ice Dance

“I’ll tell Dylan,” I said. “You shouldn’t have⁠—”

“No, don’t!”

“Cam.” I peered down, and the tears streaked on his face, mixed with snow, almost tore my own sob from me. “She has to know.”

“I can’t . . .” He sobbed. “I can’t—it’s over—there’s nothing and I can’t—I’m losing everything.”

He wasn’t making any sense.

“Navarro.” I bracketed his wet face with my hands and locked my gaze on his. Tears made his dark lashes stick together. His face was so pale, his lips almost blue, and his hair wet. “We go inside, get changed, and tell Dylan.”

His bottom lip trembled. “I can’t, Ren.”

“You can. You are the most brilliant of dancers.” My voice wobbled. I held it steady. “But we must stop now. This will not break you. Dylan will understand.” He sniffed, stepped out of my arms, and wiped his face, smearing glitter from the costume. I kept a hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. “We’ll get cleaned up first.”

He nodded, so pale and exhausted that all I wanted to do was pull him close again and take him far, far away from all of this. Go back to the open-air rink in the park and drink hot chocolates, back to one of the happiest nights of my life. Because this broke me too, and he could never know how much.

We went back inside to the changing rooms and cleaned up. Dylan caught me as I retrieved our bags. I told her we’d talk soon. She knew it was dire from the look on my face.

I didn’t care about the Meridian. I cared that he’d been hurting so badly, for so long, and he hadn’t told me. I hadn’t known. That was on me. He should have been able to trust me. We were partners. But he hadn’t. He’d been afraid. Because of who I was, because I didn’t know how to make this work. Make us work.

The ice was no place to hide an injury with drugs. It would destroy his body, and he wouldn’t feel it happening until it was too late. The pain was useful, pain was a signal, a warning and a guide. If he’d told me, we could have worked through it. But not now. It was too late.

I hadn’t been there for him when he’d needed me.

I choked up while changing out of my costume, when he couldn’t see. Briefly, alone, I’d let the tears silently fall. Just for a few moments, then swiped them away, taken a breath, and returned to his side.

We’d told Dylan together at a small café a short walk from the rink. She’d been quiet, visibly upset. She’d said the same as me, that he should have told us, that he could have told us. We were a team.

Camden sat pale and trembling, biting on his nails, head down. He hadn’t talked much, and when he had, his voice had been wrecked. I’d never seen him so deflated.

He shouldn’t be alone.

“Stay with me tonight,” I offered, when we left the café.

“No, I’m fine.” He’d gone hard, withdrawn, quiet and still. Everything he was not.

Dylan had caught my eye, either out of concern or querying why I’d ask Camden to stay in my room. It wasn’t that unusual, not considering the circumstances.

“Please,” I pushed.

“No. I’ll be alright.” He hailed a taxi, and in the next few seconds, he climbed in and was gone.

Dylan and I stood alone at the curb. I barely saw the street, its cars, the people. None of it touched me. I’d gone numb.

“I’m sorry, Ren,” she finally said.

“So am I.”

We took a taxi back to our hotel, and as there was no use in training, I had time to myself, and no idea what to do with it. I left the hotel, coat on, collar up, and walked.

My phone vibrated.

Navarro.

I’m sorry

I had no idea what to reply. Nothing was adequate. He was hurting in so many ways, and I didn’t know how to help him. Dylan had mentioned finding a sports psychiatrist, but that wasn’t going to help right now.