Page 73 of Back Outside Edge

Or would be, if we had any idea where he is or how he is.

I shake my head, even though he can’t see it. Dad’s still in New York, still fighting to end my suspension. Trying to get information about Evan while he’s at it. Neither of us is having much luck. “His phone is off and he hasn’t answered any texts.”

I’d hated going back to that text thread, the one I’ve so carefully avoided before. All the things he was feeling right before he went on the ice. And the last one, just my name, the plea so clear it breaks my heart.

Why did I think I needed to freeze him out that way? Why didn’t I at least talk to him about it? Why was I so sure I knew what was best for him?

“Have you heard anything?” The hope in my voice is so painfully obvious.

“I spoke with Gabriela Ramirez few minutes ago. She left him at hospital when his parents arrived last night and has not heard from them since.”

That’s far more than I’ve gotten. “So he’s alive? He’s ok?” My heart is thudding, relief swamping over me.

“Alive, yes. Ok, perhaps. She would not give me details, but did say he was stable when she left. They will release announcement shortly.”

Did that mean he hadn’t been before she left?

“I should be there.” I’m picking up my wallet as I say it, about to rush out of my door. “I’m coming back.”

“No, you are not.” Dad’s voice brooks no argument, back to the snap I’m getting used to. “You will remain at home, far away from competition. Far away from other skaters.”

“But, Dad, it’s Evan.” He’s seen the pictures. He knows what Evan means to me. “He needs me there.”

“You will not be allowed to see him, son. You are not family.”

“But Gabby—”

“Gabriela is his coach. She has in absentia guardianship.” I'm pretty sure he made up the term on the fly, but I know what he means. Most coaches have the paperwork required to be there when needed.

“How do you know he can’t have visitors that aren’t family?” Hospitals allow visitors. It’s a thing.

He sighs. “Because he is in ICU, syn." For this brief moment, his voice softens. Goes sympathetic, even. "Nobody has seen him except for Gabriela and his parents.” He kept that one under his chest as long as he could, didn’t he?

“The ICU?” My eyes are full of tears, and I blink them away, angry at myself. What right do I have to cry? He’s the one who’s only maybe stable. The one I made that way. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Again, I do not have details.” He’s firmed up his voice again, any empathy coated over with ice. “You will remain at home until I tell you otherwise.”

I drop my keys, my wallet. Sink down onto a chair at my kitchen table and bury my head in my arms. “Dad. I’m so worried about him.”

“He will be fine. And you will stay out of trouble. I need you to stay out of trouble, Stefan. Anything improper now could end your career completely,” he says. He’s thinking through his words, getting the English right. He means it.

I don’t want him to be right.

He’s probably right.

The ICS says they welcome all forms of diversity, but official statements and reality aren't always the same thing. Men are supposed to be masculine. Women are supposed to be feminine.

It’s why so few of us are openly queer. We don’t want to think it affects our scores, but…

Would they look for an excuse to push me out? Maybe. I’m not sure enough they wouldn’t. I don't want to chance it.

Especially if I wouldn’t be allowed to see Evan. I'm not even sure whether he’d want to see me. I’m the one who upset him so much he destroyed himself, after all. Why would he?

“Fine,” I answer. “But you’ll keep me updated if you hear anything. And I mean anything, Dad. If I think you’re holding out on me at all, I’m on the first plane to New York to see for myself.”

Have I ever been so firm with him? Not often, if so. Surprise, and a hint of something else, laces his voice when he answers a little too late. “Yes, syn. I will keep you updated.”

It’s the best I can hope for.