Page 66 of Back Outside Edge

It’s more than I expected. More grace than I deserve. “Thanks.”

With a sorrowful smile, he speeds up, then veers out into the rink for another jump.

My phone, charging beside my bed, dings, and I jump toward it, frantic to see who texted me. Please let it be Stefan. Please let it be Stefan.

It's not. It’s so much worse. It's from the last person I want to talk to at the moment.

Alexandre Boudreaux

Can we talk?

Not only no, but hell no. With jerky movements, I delete and block his number. He's no teammate of mine, not anymore. Since Luc was kind enough to switch rooms with me, he’s not my roommate, either.

My group is going to be called soon, and I need to head back over to the rink, but I’m reluctant to leave the safety of my room. I’ve done all the stretching, warming up, even changing into my costume in my room, but if I’m not there when they call my name, I forfeit.

God, I wish Stefan would text me back. I’m going crazy, worrying about him. Every time I see a new post about him or check his profile and watch his follower count drop, I picture him in the middle of an anxiety attack, unable to breathe. It's all my fault. He's perfect and wonderful and sweet and everything I could have hoped for, and I screwed it up. He deserves nothing but the absolute best, and he's getting the worst.

No wonder he's not answering me. Why would he? If I hadn't let him talk me into being incautious. If I hadn't confronted Alexandre. If I hadn't dumped food over his head like some kind of angry toddler... I've done it again. Caused another scandal. Ruined another person I care too much about.

Why do I fail so spectacularly every time I try to love someone? I cause so much pain, and attract scandal like a magnet. Maybe I'm a bomb, ticking away. Anyone who gets too close gets blown up by me sooner or later. First Caro, now Stefan.

I should have listened to myself, not gotten involved with Stefan in the first place. I should have known.

I did know.

Why couldn't I stick to my resolution to stay away from him? Why am I so weak?

The irritating little clock on the table is telling me it's past time for me to head over to the arena. I'm about to miss my short program. I want to smash it. How am I supposed to care about a competition when Stefan’s life is crumbling around him?

A sudden loud pounding comes from my door, and I jump, heart going into overdrive. Holy crap, someone's trying to give me a heart attack. "Who is it?" I call out.

No answer, just another knock. "You're going to be late if you don't hurry up." The voice is muffled, indistinguishable. I've no idea who's on the other side of my door, other than it's male, and therefore, not Gabby. One of the team coaches must have realized I wasn't in the warm-up room and came looking for me.

"I know," I answer, and my voice sounds slow, unlike me. "I'm coming."

Half of my warm-up gear is still spread out on the floor, but I leave it. I don't need it. All I need are my skates.

I remember to grab my key card from the table when I happen to glance down and see it as I pass. God, I am too out of it for this.

Then I realize my phone is still on the charger. Damn it. I open the door, setting my bag in front of it, not bothering to look at whoever's there. "One sec," I gasp, rushing back to the phone, picking it up. I don't need it, but what if Stefan texts? I have to be available if he does.

Back at my door, the bag holding my boots is gone. I blink, looking up, to see the strap dangling from someone else’s hand. From Alexandre's hand.

I am going to kill him.

He doesn't give me a chance, just starts walking down the hall with my bag. "Come on, you need to get over there."

"Shouldn’t you be skating?" I ask, though I don't want to. I don't want to seem polite, but why is he at my room when he should be at the rink?

“Already finished. I was in group two.” He glances back at me, and his face looks... different. It's not the bruising showing, underneath the makeup on his jaw, it's something in his eyes. They're holding an expression I don't recognize on him. Probably jealousy, that I’m ranked high enough over him he’s had time to finish and still come and pick me up before my group starts.

Wisely, he doesn't say anything else as we leave the hotel and cross the street to the rink. The overcast sky, threatening rain, matches my mood all too well. Once we're inside, his annoying, nasally voice comes from beside me again. "I'm sorry, Evan. I didn't want you to get caught up in everything."

Technically, I haven't been, unless something has happened I'm not aware of. I’m pretty sure I’m up to date there, though. Obsessive phone watching will do that. The man I love, however, is going through hell. "Then you probably shouldn't have posted those pictures."

"I know." He's silent for another few seconds. "I just... I can't help myself when it comes to Stefan. He's such an entitled little shit. I don't get what you see in him."

Stefan's an entitled little shit? Talk about pots and kettles. "He's actually one of the sweetest people I know."