“Itwasabysmal, Amelia. I was not going to lie to you. You needed that sort of feedback for improvement. You need a backbone. If I was hard on youallthe time, then you would stop skating. I need to find a balance somewhere,” she slurs.
I’ve never seen her get this bad before and it’s starting to make me feel sick. My heart beats loudly in my ear as I try and keep my cool.
“I can’t listen to this anymore.”
I turn out of the door as the sun starts to set. The days are short here and the nights are long and dark during the winter. Regardless, I kick my jog up into a sprint as I try to get out of her neighbourhood. I don’t know where exactly I’m going.
I could have got back in my car, but I don’t think I’m able to sit still with all this adrenaline rushing through me. I must have been running for almost an hour by the time I can see my apartment from where I’m stood panting. Instead, I turn left down towards the houses near campus.
I run up into the cul de sac and I see his house. I run up the steps and knock the door.
CHAPTER 37
MILES
“Wren?” I pull her inside from the February chill and wrap my arms around her cold body. She stands lifelessly in my arms as she cries, breathing heavily. “Wren, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?”
She looks up at me, but she doesn’t say anything. My heartbeat triples in pace when I take in her sullen expression. Her face is completely red, and her eyes look tired and dark from crying. I keep my arms around her as I bring her further into the house. I take off her coat for her and she slips it on the hanger, not fully looking at me.
I walk with my arm around her as I take her up into my room, without saying anything. She sits down at the edge of my bed, looking up at me, her mouth twitching into a frown.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” she groans before rushing off into my en suite. I run in after her but she’s already retching over the toilet. I kneel down next to her and pull back her hair as she finishes throwing up. She coughs and sighs over the toilet.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That was so disgusting,” she whispers as she sits down on the floor next to the toilet seat, pulling her knees to her chest. She tries to make a joke but her laugh sounds forced. “How the tables have turned, huh?”
I laugh quietly as I scoop her into my lap while I lean against the bathtub. When I move my hand over her forehead, brushing her hair out of her face, she’s quiet as she melts her body into mine.
The slower my hand moves, the softer she starts to cry again with her shoulders shaking. I sit there with her, not sure what to say to make this better. I’ve always been awkward in these sorts of situations. The pain in her voice makes my chest tighten and I wish there was a way that I could take away all of her hurt. Her cries settle down after a while and her breathing steadies.
“Can I take a shower? I need to brush my teeth too,” Wren says between sniffles as she moves from out of my lap to sit next to me. “Can you get my clothes?”
“Of course,” I whisper, and I kiss her on the head.
I go into my room and look into my drawer that now has some of her clothes mixed in with mine. You wouldn’t guess how many thongs have ended up in my laundry in the last few weeks. I pull out a shirt and some shorts and go back into the bathroom.
She’s still on the floor so I reach out my hand and pull her up. Her face is still soaked with tears, but she seems better than she did when she came through the door.
“Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to help you?” I ask, trying to find some way to be of use to her as I shift from one foot to the other.
“Miles,” she says softly, shaking her head. “I think I can take a shower on my own. Thank you for offering, though. I will definitely take it up another time.” She tries to laugh again but it doesn’t sound like her own.
I pace my room while she takes one of her long showers. At the rink this morning, I had a feeling that seeing her mom would put her down. She never talks about her like she is her mom. She talks as if she’s more like her coach – an inconvenience. After meeting her dad, I couldn’t imagine how he was married to Ms Hacks for so long when they seem so different. Mr Hackerly is a kind and a very fun person. Someone who just let her be a kid.
It makes me think that I’m too hard on my mom who has always supported me and never pushed me to do something I don’t want to do. She’s let me live. No matter how hard I make it for her.
I stop my overthinking and sit down on the bed when the warm air from the bathroom hits me. She comes out of the en suite in shorts and a t-shirt, her hair damp and dripping on her shoulders. I still haven’t got used to her in my room like this. Like she belongs here. She sits down on the bed next to me, crossing her legs.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” I ask, bringing my hand to her back. She doesn’t say anything for a while, but she looks fresher.
“Austin came back,” she responds quietly, staring at the dresser in front of her. “My mom knows that she’s pregnant and even though Austin is happy about it, my mom has found a way to put all the pressure onto me. If Austin doesn’t go back to ballet after the baby comes, all of her focus will be on me.”
“Jesus, Wren. I’m so sorry.” My heart aches for her. If I could take all of her pain, I would do it in an instant. I know how hard she works and sometimes it can’t be enough for her. Or her mom.
“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s just my messed-up family,” she replies. “Even now when she’s five months pregnant she’s still trying to please her. How fucked up is that?”
“That is really messed up but that doesn’t mean that you have to. You need to do things for yourself, not for her.”
“I know,” she says under her breath. “I just don’t think it’s that easy. I found skating fun when I was a kid, when I was doing it with my friends without the pressure of trying to win a competition. But after doing it competitively, I don’t think I could skate anymore without thinking about how to do better. It’s, like, wired in me.
