Mark tilted his head. “Because of the federation?”
I nodded. “And because he’s scared.” My throat tightened. “Mark… Are things in his country as bad as he makes out? I mean, I’m not doubting him, but I don’t know a thing about it. I don’t even know where Velkarya is. I slept through most of my high school Geography classes.”
He took a sip of coffee, then winced. “Whoa. Too hot.” He stared at the ice for a second or two. “I don’t know a whole lot, if I’m honest, and between you and me, Geography was never my strongpoint either. But what I do know?” Another pause. “They have long, brutal winters, and a strong sports culture. Politically speaking, the Olympics matter a lot to them. But that’s not the important thing.” He looked me in the eye. “They’re a country with strong traditional values. They support ‘family values,’ and that’s basically code for no same-sex marriage, no anti-discrimination laws, and LGBTQ+ people framed as ‘foreign influence,’” he air-quoted. “They’re a smallish country of about ten million people, where same-sex relationships aretechnicallylegal, but when you factor in that LGBTQ people are regularly targeted by police harassment, media smear campaigns, and ‘morality watchdog’ groups…” He took a breath. “They’re also a country whose athletes are explicitly forbidden from—and I quote—‘Public conduct that undermines national identity.’ Which everyone knows includes queerness.”
I blinked. “I thought you said you didn’t know a whole lot.”
“I don’t, but David does. He’s kind of an activist. And he also likes to be informed about the countries we compete against.”
I swallowed. “So what you’re saying is, Luka has every right to be afraid.”
Mark nodded. He leaned against the boards beside me, arms folded.
I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “He said we should stop before this gets worse.”
“But you don’t want to.”
It wasn’t really a question.
“No.” The word came out rougher than I intended. “And the messed-up part is I barely care what happens to me anymore. I just…” I stopped, searching for the right phrasing and failing. “I don’t want this turning his life into collateral damage.” I closed my eyes. “He asked for space.”
“And?”
I thought about Luka standing in my room trying not to break apart while saying all the right things. About the way his voice cracked when he saidI stop lying.
God.
I opened my eyes and looked at him. “And I said I’d give it to him.”
Mark nodded. “But? Because I know there is one. I can feel it.”
“But I also asked him to stay.”
Mark winced. “Oof.”
“Yeah.”
“And did he?”
“No.”
Mark was quiet for several seconds after that, and when he finally spoke, his voice was gentle. “Well. That’s inconvenient timing.”
I laughed before I could stop it.
“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “You want emotional wisdom before competition, hire a therapist. You came to a skating coach.”
“I came here to practice.”
“And then you nearly skated through a wall.” He studied me another moment. “You’re seven hours before the biggest short program of your life. Can you still compete tonight?”
“Yes.” No hesitation there. Weirdly enough, skating felt clearer now than it had a month ago. There was less noise in my head, less second-guessing.
Mark noticed the answer immediately. “Huh.”
“What?”
“You skate better when you stop trying to perform perfection.” He tilted his head. “That’s new.” Mark scanned my face. “Okay.”
