A car from the academy waited for me, and within minutes I was back at St. Monarché.
I don’t run into any of the girls.
I know they’re all back. But I don’t want to see them yet.
I’m better.
Most of my injuries have healed, especially the ones on my face. With enough concealer, no one would notice a thing.
My ribs, however, still hurt like hell and probably will for weeks.
I’m glad that when I woke up in the hospital, Hunter was the only one in the room.
He didn’t tell the girls, nor my father.
I was more relieved about that than I should have been.
He did it because he didn’t know what existed between us.
He didn’t know if my father was the villain in all of this, if he’d forced me into the marriage, or if he cared about me at all.
Questions even I don’t have answers to.
It’s complicated.
I know I’ll have to see him eventually.
Talk to him.
But I’m not ready.
And perhaps I never will be.
Once I’m back in my dorm, I shut the door, take a long bath, change into my pyjamas, and spend the next few hours in front of the television watching ice skating competitions.
My heart hurts.
I don’t know whether I’ll recover in time to prepare properly for the Olympics.
Then I remember who made it possible in the first place, and a familiar dread takes hold.
I don’t even know whether I want the Olympics anymore.
But I can’t let him take that from me too.
I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him since that day.
He never visited me in hospital. Not that I expected him to.
Part of me was terrified he’d show up at Hunter’s house and drag me back with him.
Or that Hunter would hand me over.
That he’d decide none of this was worth the trouble and send me right back to the man who hurt me.
I don’t actually think Hunter would do that. At least, I don’t want to believe he would. But after everything that’s happened, I’m too hurt and confused to be certain of anything.
A knock at my door startles me.
