But for the record… you were beautiful out there.
My thumb stopped over the screen.
Beside me, Ethan glanced sideways. “Uh-oh.”
I locked my phone immediately. “What?”
“That face.” He sounded smug. “That isnota Team USA face.”
I shoved his shoulder while he laughed out loud. Then I was surrounded once more by my elated teammates, patting me on the back, hugging me, all talking at once.
Underneath the noise and the cameras and the Olympic chaos, one thought kept resurfacing.
Luka had been watching.
“Press time,” Mark announced. “Quick, before you all squeeze the life out of Dean.”
Everyone laughed as we headed for the corridor. My phone started vibrating before I’d even made it halfway. I ignored it.
If it’s Luka, it can wait.I had no intention of letting him leave my room tonight.
Ethan had an arm slung around my shoulders, Nathan loudly informed anyone who would listen that Team USA had finally remembered how to be “appropriately theatrical,” and two of the women from the hockey team nearly flattened me as they barreled past in celebration.
The whole hallway buzzed with noise and movement, athletes and coaches flooding out of the arena while volunteers tried unsuccessfully to keep traffic flowing. My pulse was still running hot from the skate, the last remnants of adrenaline enough that everything felt sharper, brighter.
Then my phone buzzed again. And again.
I finally dragged it out of my pocket, grinning when I saw the screen.
Mom.
I answered without thinking. “Hey, Mom. What time is it there, about one o’clock? Did you see me?”
There was a pause on the other end that lasted way too long.
“Dean.”
Something about the way she said my name made every muscle in my body tighten at once. The noise around me seemed to dull, as though someone had turned the volume down on the corridor.
“I don’t want you to worry.”
I stopped walking.
Ethan glanced back at me, his grin fading the second he saw my face. “What happened?”
I waited for Mom to say more, and suddenly I could hear it. Hospital sounds. Muted voices. A distant announcementoverhead.
“It’s your dad,” Mom said quickly. “He’s okay. They think it was just—just a scare. They’re running tests.”
The corridor tilted around me, and I reached for the railing beside the wall without realizing I was doing it, fingers locking hard around cold metal.
“A scare how?” I heard myself ask, the words coming too sharp, too fast.
“He complained of chest pain, shortness of breath.” Her voice wavered before she steadied it again. “They kept him overnight, but he’s already arguing with the nurses and complaining about the coffee, so honestly that’s probably a good sign.”
I shut my eyes hard.
Jesus Christ.
