“You are!”
“I said shut up.” But his voice cracked anyway before he pulled me into a brutal one-armed hug. “Dean…” He exhaled hard against my temple. “Jesus Christ.”
Emotion slammed into me all over again.
Mark never lost composure, not at competitions, not at Worlds, not even after my first senior title.
Seeing him like this made everything feel so fuckingreal.
“You did exactly what we trained for,” he said roughly as we sat down in the Kiss and Cry. “No hesitation. No backing off. You went for the throat tonight.”
I laughed breathlessly, still trying to drag air into my lungs. I managed a glance at the monitor. Victor was looking at a total score of 291.84. Ethan’s was 273.61.
Mark’s hand clutched mine. “You couldn’t have skated any better. That was—” He took a breath. “You were stunning.”
The replay started immediately on the giant screen overhead, but I couldn’t watch it. I searched through the crowd instead, looking for?—
There.
Luka stood several sections up beside Mila near the athlete seating, both of them still watching the Kiss and Cry instead of the replay screen.
Mila smiled first when our eyes met, warm and knowing.
But Luka?—
God.
The look on his face. Pride. Relief.
Mark followed my line of sight upward. His lips twitched before he looked back toward the monitor without comment, just as the announcer’s voice burst over the sound system.
My pulse jumped. I dragged both hands down my thighs, trying unsuccessfully to breathe like a normal human being while the arena announcer started reading through the marks in Italian and English overhead.
Technical score first. 114.72
Oh my God. That washuge.
Then components.
Dear God. 87.02
The crowd noise started building before the total even appeared.
I stared at the screen. 201.74. In first place for the free skate.
Finally, the totals flashed up.
“Holy fuck, Dean,” Mark croaked.
I stared at the screen.
304.83.
First place.
Olympic gold.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
