I laughed, more from relief than anything else.
“Also, he says he wants to be there for the final on Friday.”
I froze. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, I know.” She snorted. “And before you start yelling, I already told him only if the doctors clear it. But Dean…” Her voice dropped. “He wouldn’t let me cancel my flight tonight. He said one of us has to be there.”
That hit a tender spot. Even from a hospital bed, Dad was still trying to make sure I wasn’t alone.
My throat tightened. “I want you here too,” I admitted.
“I know.”
God, I was tired.
“Okay. Call me when you get to the hotel and we’ll figure out where to meet tomorrow.”
“We will.” A pause followed. “Are you okay? You sound…” She hesitated. “I don’t know. A little… strained.” Before I could answer, she suddenly snorted. “Of course you are. Honestly, silly question.” Her tone turned briskly affectionate. “Your father scared ten years off my life, and probably off yours too, tonight you’re skating for Olympic gold—yes, Dean William Foster, don’t argue, you areabsolutelygoing to win gold for America tonight—so naturally you’re under pressure.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“Get some rest before you skate,” she continued. “And I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be the one requiring intravenous coffee.” Another pause. “I love you.”
“Love you too.” I ended the call.
Across the city athletes stretched, trained, focused, and prepared to step into moments they’d spent entire lifetimes chasing.
Me? I felt exhausted.
Dad was in the hospital.
Mom was flying to Milan.
I was skating for Olympic gold in a few hours.
And somehow, I was happier than I’d been in years.
I lay on the bed, closed my eyes, and let out a slow breath. Then I rolled onto my side and dragged Luka’s pillow closer. It still smelled faintly of soap.
Outside, somewhere beyond the Village, the city carried on preparing for another Olympic night.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time since Mom’s call after the short program, sleep didn’t feel impossible.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Luka
I watchedthe scores flash up for Canada, the third team to skate.
155.60
“Vasiliev would tell us we can beat that,” Mila muttered beside me.
Of course he would.
She nudged my arm. “Stop calculating. You know what Sokolov would say.”
