Page 112 of Ice Dance

“Yes, partly.”

“Respectfully, Ren, it’s my risk to take, not yours.”

But what if it destroyed him? I’d never forgive myself. I cared too deeply for him to throw it all away for one competition, because he believed dancing with me was worth his future. He didn’t need me. I wasn’t the reason he was here. He was. He had so much more to give the ice-dance world.

“Take out the quad axel, then,” he said, sounding sharp. “I’ll hate it, but we can do the routine without it. Then will you let me dance?”

I sighed. “It is not up to me.”

“Yes it is. Dylan will do what you say.”

“The X-rays⁠—”

“Obviously, if the X-rays are bad, it doesn’t matter anyway, but if they’re good enough?”

The passion in his voice, his eyes. I couldn’t deny him his dream. He clearly wanted it—needed it.

“Do you truly believe you can dance without Tramadol?” I asked.

He hesitated, taking too long to answer, but was somehow still smiling, sensing my weakness. “I can try.”

Dylan had told me before all of this, that I wouldn’t know if I could dance with Navarro unless I tried. Trying the impossible made it possible. He and I were an impossible pair. Nothing about any of this had been easy, but that was what made it groundbreaking.

Part of me didn’t want to encourage him, didn’t want him dancing and risking too much while he was injured. The thought of him getting back on the ice, knowing how much he hurt, had a tight sense of panic clutching at my breath. But I also knew he needed this. If he didn’t dance, it would destroy him in other ways.

And his dancing was beautiful, majestic, ethereal, his form and balance and choreography were exquisite. It would be a crime for him not to be seen by the world. If he didn’t dance, if we withdrew, he’d probably never shake the idea that he wasn’t good enough. His future hinged on the Meridian.

Was it worth it?

“Would you dance?” He leaned closer still. “Knowing everything. The pain, my hip, all the shit I’ve been through to get here. Would you dance or walk away?”

I sighed again, surrendering. He already knew the answer. “I would dance.”

No matter the risk or the cost, I would dance. Because without it, I was nothing. I’d dance until I was broken, and then I’d dance some more.

He and I were the same, in that. In a lot of things.

I couldn’t take that from him, even though I knew I should, knew it was the right thing to do.

I admired him, I always had. His passion, his drive, his motivation. He was broken, he’d been broken for a long time, and somehow, he’d stuck the pieces of himself together and danced through the pain. I didn’t just admire Camden. I loved him. His mess, his drive, his relentless pursuit of the things he wanted, his color, his light, his laughter, and the way he looked at the world like a mountain to be climbed, or a sheet of ice to be carved up by dance. I didn’t need the Meridian to tell me he was worthy. He’d been worthy the moment we’d met.

It was me who was not worthy of him.

FORTY

CAMDEN

Three days to go.

I threw up in the restroom midway through practice. The pain had taken it personally that I’d been ignoring it for months and had come back with a vengeance now I was clean. I clung to the toilet bowl and wanted to die. My whole body burned and shook, but my hip was an angry, spiked fucking ball of rage sitting in its socket.

The X-rays had been inconclusive, but the MRI had made it clear.

“You have an incomplete stress fracture on the compression side of the femoral neck,” the doc had said. “It hasn’t displaced, which is the only reason I’m not sending you straight to surgery. But you are finished skating for now. Not next week. Not after one more performance. Now.”

The doctor had not let me down gently.

“If this had gone through the tension side, or if it had displaced, we’d be having a very different conversation.”