Page 170

“I do, but I love messing with you.” She waggles her brows. “Does he know you’re here?”

I fix my focus on the wall over her head, chewing on my bottom lip, my heartbeat picking up.

“Oh my God!” she shrieks. “You’re unbelievable! Why haven’t you told him?”

“Because the plans didn’t fall into place until the last minute. And because I was…” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I was the one who suggested the pause. He agreed it was for the best, but it hurt both of us. We haven’t talked since.” Head bowed, I wring my hands. It’s not the full truth. There were the occasional holiday texts we sent each other and the irises that still find me every year on my birthday, as if he never forgot they’re my favorite. I just never counted any of it as real communication. “Can you imagine if I’d called and told him there was a chance I’d be training here for six months, only for the plans to fall through? I couldn’t do that to him.”

“When you put it that way, I get it, but it still sucks. The whole situation does.” She scoots closer and wraps her arm around my shoulders. “You and Michael are the definition of soulmates. Seeing you put your relationship on the back burner for your careers made me think all athletes are a bit crazy, including me. Because what we do to our bodies to achieve the results we want is torture, and then on top of that, we give up the relationships that mean the most to us for short-lived careers.”

“You’re not wrong.” I put my head on her shoulder. “It’s been two years, and I still remember what it feels like to have his hands on my body. All I need to do is close my eyes, and I can feel him next to me, pressing me to his chest, whispering sweet nothings to help me relax after a long, exhausting day on the ice.” A sob escapes me, and I close my eyes. “I miss him so damn much, even watching the Phantoms play is hard. All I do is stare at him. I don’t actually watch the game. But I can’t not watch, because I want to support him, even if he doesn’t know about it.”

“It’s probably the same for him too. The guy was obsessed with you, and I genuinely can’t imagine that’ll ever stop.”

My chest tightens at the unknown. “He keeps his life private, never posts anything not hockey related, so I don’t even know if he’s single.” I swallow the lump clogging my throat. “I didn’t want to know. I told myself I’d accept it if he moved on, but I couldn’t bring myself to find out.”

“You promised each other you’d talk about your future after the Olympics, right?”

“Yeah. And now I’m here.” I let out a breath. “God, what if this is a mistake? Maybe I should have stayed in Santa Clara. Or gone to Boston. It’s just six months.”

She shifts and places her hands on my shoulders, turning me toward her. “I forbid you from thinking like that. You made this decision to focus on your careers together. And at the time, it was the right one. You were recovering from your sprain, getting your jumps back, basically living on the ice. He was starting his second season with the Phantoms. That’s a lot of pressure.”

“I know.” My voice cracks, and the backs of my eyes get hot. “I felt like I was slowing him down. And every time he flew out to see me, I felt so torn. I wanted to be with him, yet I needed to focus on healing and rebuilding what I’d lost after my injury. No matter what I chose, I felt guilty.” I sniffle, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. “And once his season started, he struggled the same way. If he flew out to see me, then he wasn’t working on his game, and it was important for him to prove he’d earned his spot with the Phantoms.”

“You did what was right for both of you,” she says gently. “That doesn’t mean it was easy. Sometimes, you have to sacrifice things you love to get where you want to be. And for you, that was another shot at the Olympics. For him, it was building an NHL career.” She brushes my hair back from my face. “Everything’s going to be okay. The second he knows you’re here to stay, he’ll be glued to your side.”

Vision blurry, I chuckle. “You’re like Gojo. So wise. How is it that you suddenly know everything?”

The rumble of laughter that rips out of her throat is loud and contagious, lightening my mood and easing some of the tension in my body.

“I don’t know everything, but unlike you, I don’t mind being snoopy.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Your account is the only one Michael follows on socials, and he always reposts your stuff. The man is obsessed. And if he’s as serious about you as I think he is, nothing will make him let you go. Not even you.”

My lips part. Adrenaline spikes in my body, and my breath bottles up in my chest. I liked his posts whenever they showed up on my feed, but I never went to his profile or watched his Stories. I was too afraid of what I might see there.

“Babe, just talk to him, and you’ll see nothing has changed for him. It’s only you he wants.”

Blake’s right. Now that I’m here, I need to talk to Michael, and I will do it first thing tomorrow morning.

Tonight, I promised Blake I’d attend a gala with her. I don’t typically go to events like this, but she was nominated for an award, and honoring my friend because she had a phenomenal season with the Boston Emeralds is necessary.

Thank God the mirror in the suite’s bedroom is full-length. I tried three dresses my stylist brought for me before I found this one. It’s the color of dark red wine, and the fabric drapes over one shoulder, crossing my body in soft, delicate lines, leaving the other shoulder bare. It looks almost regal, really.

My long hair cascades over my shoulder as I tilt my head, studying my reflection. Mentally and physically, I’m not the girl I used to be. I believe in myself. I believe in my body and in my skills. Yes, I fall sometimes, I get bruises all over my legs, but I always get up. I always push for more. My mentality in regard to wins isn’t perfect because I’ve spent all my life believing anything that isn’t gold is a loss. It’s still difficult to accept my successes and not see them as failures when it comes time for the podium, but I’m consciously working to appreciate what I have and trying to treat each non-first-place as an experience, another step to achieving my goals.

I don’t look for approval. I take what I want, and I feel like I’m finally a version of myself I can feel proud of. I am where I am because I belong.

Breathing in and out slowly, counting the way my therapist taught me, I ground myself. Then, I smile at my reflection. I’m not the biggest fan of media events, but sometimes, they’re necessary, and I’ve made peace with that. And, most importantly, I can handle it.

If tonight is all about being seen, then this is who I want them to see.

Me. A competitive figure skater, getting ready to take her second shot at the Olympics.

And this time, I intend to win.

With each step along the red carpet, the ground feels steadier, though when voices call my name and cameras flash in my face, my heart lurches. With a practiced gesture, I put a smile on my face and move along. I let them guide me to the places reserved for photo ops, turn slightly, shift my weight the way I’ve learned to. Chin up. Shoulders back. Don’t forget to breathe.

It almost feels like one of the hundreds of competitions I’ve attended. All eyes are on me. The lights and flashes are familiar. So is the awareness that every small movement is being watched, measured, remembered.

I give them what they want. I’m calm and collected. I don’t rush to leave the carpet, and I don’t mind smiling and posing for the cameras. At least, that’s what the crowd around me thinks.