Page 19 of Back Outside Edge

“All right, if you're sure.” She doesn't look at all convinced. “If I don't see you back at the rink in exactly—,” She checks her watch, “one hour and fourteen minutes, I'll send out a search party.”

Laughing, I stand, dropping my napkin on my plate. “Sounds good. See you in a bit.”

By the time I reach my room’s door, the adrenaline crash is starting to hit, and I’m glad I gave myself some time to rest before going back to the arena. The broken elevator doesn’t help. How have they still not fixed it? There must be accessibility laws in Germany.

Yawning, I key open our door.

Before I have a chance to enter the room, I’m brought up short by Stefan and his dad standing in front of me, facing each other over the end of his bed. Both of their faces are tight, postures stiff, hands clenched into fists. Crap.

Chapter 9

Stefan

When Dad is upset, he doesn't yell. His voice gets quieter and quieter until it's nothing but a hiss. He is about as upset as he gets at the moment, which means I can hardly hear him, even from a few feet away. "The hotel manager will pay."

It's not the first time he's threatened her. I wouldn't be surprised if he's threatened her in person, for that matter. But he means it more than ever now. "I don't think it's her fault, Dad. It's all on me."

"No, we were clear in your need. You should get it. It's not Olympic village where there are only some rooms."

Except it's exactly like that. The hotel only has as many rooms as it has.

"Are you sure it was not your roommate, that he is not—"

Dad's cut off by a throat clearing near us, and both of us whirl around. Evan is standing in front of us, just inside the door, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in this moment.

"It wasn't Evan, Dad,” I say, breaking the sudden silence. “He's been great. It's not his fault. I’m pretty sure it was Alexandre Boudreaux’s fault, actually."

Dad's still eyeing Evan like he'd like to make a punching bag out of his face. "He is asshole, but how?" he growls, glare not leaving Evan.

While I appreciate Dad's found a scapegoat that isn't me, I don't want it to be my roommate. So far, Evan has been the world's most accommodating sweetheart. “He would’ve been my roommate if he hadn’t hurt himself. And the hotel told me that my roommate approved the change. He was probably trying to fuck with me again. And hey, he succeeded. Again.”

I fucked up big-time today, and I’m happy to blame Alexandre, but Evan? Not the problem.

“I will kill him,” Dad says, making me cringe. I know he doesn’t mean it, not really, but…

“Leave him alone, Dad. He’s not worth it.” Part of me is still vibrating with anger at myself, but the rest of me is tired. Tired of myself, tired of my screw-ups. Tired that no matter how hard I try, I'll never be perfect. Tired that my dad expects that perfection, and won’t settle for anything less. Tired that the whole world expects it.

I want to go to bed, pull the blankets over my head, and not get up until—I don’t know when. Until my free skate, I guess. Because I’ve got to prove that I can do it, that I’m not the fuck-up I was today.

Evan's still standing awkwardly in the doorway, his bags behind him. “You can come in, Evan. It’s fine.”

Dad’s glare shoots back to me. “We are not finished discussing.” His voice goes from loud to soft in one sentence. “Perhaps come back later, Evan.”

“No, Dad.” Evan’s about to turn around, so I lunge forward, grabbing his arm. “It’s his room too.” Evan’s arm is stiff, but I keep holding it, not letting him leave. As much as I want to be alone right now, I also want Evan around. He’s a calm, steadying presence, and I enjoy his company.

Maybe I just want to be left alone with regard to Dad.

"It's ok," Evan says swiftly. "I can go if you-"

“No, stay. Dad, there's really nothing left to discuss. I fucked up, ok? I get it. I'll do better.”

“But we must understand what happened, why your focus was lost. If it's room, we need better solution,” he announces, like it’s something new.

“Dad, there is no better solution. We've tried, remember?” Many times. Neither of us has found anything. No other options.

“What else changed? You watched Jacques. Bad idea. You know you need routine.”

So, so many things, but I'm not going to tell him. He'll lose his shit. “I don't know, Dad. I did the important things. I think I just fucked up. I lost it. It happens.”