“He told me not to call you until after your skate,” she rushed on. “He was very firm about that.”
My heartbeat slammed violently against my ribs, competition adrenaline twisted into something sick and panicked.
“Why are you calling me now?”
“Because I know you. And because you’d be furious if everyone kept this from you.”
Across the corridor, Ethan had gone still. Nathan’s voice had faded somewhere into the background. I could feel the team watching me without hearing any of them.
“I should be there,” I said.
“No.” The firmness in her voice caught me off guard. “Absolutely not. Your father would lose his mind if you even suggested it.” I heard her take a breath. “Dean, this is your Olympics.”
All I could picture was Dad collapsed somewhere while I’d been out on Olympic ice with thousands of people cheering my name.
My stomach clenched.
“I can’t…” My voice broke rough halfway through. I swallowed hard and tried again. “I can’t think about this right now.”
“I know,” Mom said quietly. “That’s why I’m telling youeverything is under control here. You focus on what you need to do. We’ll handle everything else.”
Focus.
The word felt meaningless suddenly, thin and unreal.
My chest hurt, thick with fear that stripped everything else away in seconds.
“I love you.” Mom’s voice cracked. “And we’re so proud of you.”
I shut my eyes again. “Yeah,” I managed. “I love you too.”
Then the call ended.
For a second I stayed exactly where I was, forehead against the wall, breathing too hard.
Five minutes earlier I’d been staring at a scoreboard.
Now I couldn’t remember the number.
“Dean?” Mark’s voice cut through the noise around me.
I straightened too fast, dragging a hand down my face as I pushed away from the wall, but it was pointless. One look at me and his entire expression changed.
“What is it?” He stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”
“My dad.” I swallowed hard. “He’s in the hospital.”
“What happened?” Mark asked in a low, urgent voice.
“Chest pains. Trouble breathing.” Saying it out loud made it worse somehow, more real. “It sounds like it’s a cardiac event, but he’s stable. They’re running tests.”
Mark exhaled, tension easing from his face. “Okay. Okay. Stable is good.”
I nodded. “He told her not to tell me until after I skated.”
That almost undid me.
Dad would rather scare the hell out of himself than risk distracting me before competition.
