Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop thinking about the version of Luka that only seemed to exist when nobody else was looking. “Foster!”
The voice cut across the rink, bright, familiar, and completely wrong for the moment.
I blinked, the shift immediate.
“Ithoughtthat was you.” Tomasz Zielinski skated toward me with long, confident strides. “Trying to get ahead of the rest of us? I didn’t expect anyone else here this early trying to claim the good ice.”
I managed a laugh that sounded almost convincing. “You’re here too.”
“Yeah, well, I like having at least one hour a day before this place turns into a circus.” He grinned. “Plus I need every advantage possible if I’m supposed to survive competing against you this week.”
“You’ll cope.”
“That confident, huh?”
“Terrified, actually.”
“Better.” Tomasz leaned his forearms against the barrier. “Arrogance is annoying before eight in the morning.”
That earned a real smile from me at least.
“I didn’t realize you knew Davorin.”
My stomach chose that moment to clench. “We’ve crossed paths.”
Except that didn’t even come close.
Tomasz’s gaze drifted toward the exit Luka had disappeared through before returning to me. “Mm.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “You know how it is. Athletes talk.”
I waited.
“Velkarya gets talked about more than most.”
The cold in the rink suddenly felt sharper. “Why?”
Tomasz shrugged. “Same reason people talk about half the federations nobody wants to criticize too loudly.” He glanced toward the doors. “Some places give you more room than others.”
“Room for what?”
Tomasz was quiet for a second. “To be a person.”
I thought about Montreal. About being allowed to like things.
About the way Luka kept looking over his shoulder before saying anything real.
Tomasz looked away first.
“Anyway.” He pushed off the barrier. “Not really my business.”
It didn’t sound like he believed that.
