Page 118 of Ice Dance

“Move back.”

So pale. His face damp with sweat. I swept his hair back and leaned closer. “Cam, can you hear me?”

A hand on my shoulder. Pulling. Guiding me back. Someone said to move. Dylan.

I straightened and backed up. The medics swooped in.

God.

Oh god.

They looped an oxygen mask over his head. That was good, that meant he was breathing. But why wasn’t he waking up? What had happened? Was it the drugs? No, he was clean. Something else. The pain, exhaustion, the withdrawal. All of it. I’d been a fool.

We shouldn’t have danced. I shouldn’t have allowed it.

I staggered away, unbalanced on my skates, and braced against a wall. My right hand went into my hair. I breathed too hard, too fast, not from the performance. My heart thumped. Panic.

Don’t let it show.

Cameras were everywhere.

They brought a stretcher. Oh god.

“They’re taking him to the hospital,” Dylan said. Standing close but so far away still. None of this was real. A dream, a nightmare. “Ren?”

“I’ll go,” I mumbled.

“No.” She blocked my path and put a firm hand on my chest. “No, you can’t do anything. Stay, collect the medal. He would want that.”

The medal? “I don’t care about the damn medal, Dylan.” My voice was wrecked. My face too, I knew it. My whole body shook. I couldn’t hide this, didn’t want to.

“I know.” Her smile softened, and I almost broke down.

My heart burned, crumbling into a broken thing, stealing the air and my strength. Don’t let them see.

“I know, Ren.” Dylan squeezed my arm. “I’ll go with him and I’ll call you as soon as there’s news.”

I wanted to go. I wanted to be with him, at his side, where I’d been for the last nine months. I couldn’t leave him now, when he needed me most.

Dylan hugged me quickly. “Cam’s strong, he’s a fighter, he’s going to be alright.”

I nodded, lightheaded, my vision a blur behind tears I refused to let fall. I tilted my head up and blinked them away. When I looked down again, Dylan was leaving with the medics and Cam in a flurry of motion. I couldn’t see his face. I couldn’t go to him. It hurt. Hurt worse than any injury. The hurt was in my blood, racing through me. Everywhere.

I just wanted to be with him. Needed to be with him.

I stood still and gulped air, dropped my head back. Cameras would be on me. The world was watching.

Don’t show anything. Don’t give them anything.

My father reached out and took my hand, his gaze the softest I had ever seen it. All the lines on his face gathered into creases around his mouth and eyes. “Come, let’s find somewhere private to recover.”

I tore my hand free. “I’m fine.”

He nodded, smiled a little. “That’s good. You were brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. I am so proud.”

“It was a team effort.” It came out sounding hard. “Please, just . . . go.”

I was alone then but still surrounded by people. Some glanced my way. The ice rink was swept, the rumble of the resurfacer droned, and the show continued.