Page 111 of Ice Dance

He peered through his bangs. “You came second, asshole.”

“I should have been first. Easily.”

“Just gotta be the best, huh.”

“I collided with another skater during warm-up in the Junior Grand Prix final. We both ended up bruised, suspected concussions. I was pulled from the event, didn’t compete. Lost six months and a medal to that one.” I sipped my beer. “Three broken ribs. Dislocated shoulder. Broken fingers on my right hand.”

He laughed softly. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Just because you don’t see it often, doesn’t mean I’m not hurting.”

His gaze held mine with meaning. “Yeah.”

We fell quiet for a while, gradually finishing the beer. He shifted position, coming to the island opposite me and leaning closer.

“Dylan said I need to get X-rays tomorrow.”

That was sensible. And should have happened months ago. “Good.”

“I uh . . .” His lashes fluttered down. “I haven’t taken anything since this morning.”

“How do you feel?”

“Old.” He snorted. “Like shit. Everything hurts. My body hates me.”

I smiled, to try and reassure him, and nodded. “It’s supposed to hurt.”

“Yeah . . .” He sighed. “I guess I’d forgotten that.”

“We need pain to know where our bodies are, what our limits are.”

He leaned his elbows on the island, bringing him close, eye level with me. “What if I can do this without the Tramadol?”

My instinct was to protect him, and to immediately say no. I shook my head. No competition was worth his future career. The risk was too high that he’d damage something permanently, and he’d be done for good. Almost half of professional ice dancers retired early due to injury, many before they’d reached their full potential. Camden was just starting out. He had his whole future ahead of him, and he would be phenomenal.

“There will be other Meridians, Cam.”

“But not with you.”

He was likely right. It had taken too much from me. He knew me well enough to see it, perhaps before I did. I looked away, toward the apartment windows and the dark city outside.

“This is my one chance to dance with Ren Hasegawa.” He spoke softly, smiling, with some color in his face that the day had previously pulled out of him. “If it were easy, everyone would do it. Isn’t that what Dylan said?”

She had, very early on in our training.

“We have a brilliant routine, a double quad axel, Ren? You and me.”

“Can you perform the quad axel without the painkillers?” I asked.

The light in his eyes dulled. “I uh . . . I don’t know, honestly.”

I couldn’t, not with an injury like his. It was highly unlikely he’d be able to. “The risk is too great. Your career⁠—”

“A career that may or may not be there. Next week, when it’s all over, what if there’s nothing for me?” Heat blushed his face. “This is happening, right now. I can’t pass it up. I won’t. I want to do this.”

“You can’t, Cam.”

“Why? Because you say so?”