“I know.”
Luka waited.
I stared up at the ceiling. “When Mom called from the hospital...” I rubbed a hand across my face. “I don’t know. It messed with my head.”
He stayed quiet.
“My whole life’s been measured in seasons. Four years. Next Olympics. After Worlds. There was always another deadline after the current one.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “Then suddenly my dad’s lying in a hospital bed and all I could think about was howmany things people put off because they assume there’ll be time later.”
Luka’s hand tightened on my chest.
“I hated that feeling,” I confessed.
The room was quiet again, the only sounds the snow against the glass and the muted sound of traffic somewhere, despite the hour.
Eventually Luka said, “In my world, we are taught the opposite.”
I looked down at him. “What does that mean?”
He was quiet for a moment.
“If something is difficult, you wait.” His voice was calm. “There is always another competition. Another season. Another reason why now is inconvenient.”
“What if eventually never comes?”
Luka considered that for a moment. “Then you wake up one day and discover you’ve spent years waiting for a better time.”
I rolled onto my side, facing him. I cupped his cheek.
“You’re scared.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “That may be the understatement of the century.”
“Hey.” I waited until his eyes met mine. “You don’t have to go back to being miserable because other people find it convenient.”
Luka shook his head. “You make it sound simple.”
“No.” I brushed my thumb across his jaw. “I think it’s probably the hardest thing you’ve ever done.”
His gaze stayed on mine, and for a few seconds he said nothing. Then he let out a sigh.
“Sometimes I think meeting you ruined my life.”
I blinked.
Luka smiled. “Before you, I knew how to survive.”
There it was, as dry as a weather report, like he’d just informed me of the time.
I laughed. “That’s not usually how people describe falling in love.”
“No?”
“No.”
He moved closer. “I was careful before.”
“And now?”
