Page 100 of Ice Dance

A day later, we flew back to a wintery Montreal. Back into hotels, the international rink, and a new dance studio.

Camden didn’t text, we didn’t talk outside the subject of training, and we did not share a bed.

We ran the routines, we did the training, we turned up, we performed until our dance was on point. Camden reliably stuck the quad axels with only a few falls. He could do this. We could do this.

Less than a week in Montreal and I met Dylan in the hotel bar, alone. No Camden.

She told me to sit, ordered a fruit juice for me, and opened her laptop.

“Where’s Navarro?” I asked.

“He’s in the studio. I wanted to show you something alone.”

Alone. I held her gaze. I knew her tone. This was not going to be good.

“I have concerns,” she said. “About both of you frankly, but Camden is my main concern.”

“You don’t need to be concerned about me.”

“I thought you’d say that.” She smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes.

We watched footage back of Camden and me on the ice from the past week. It looked good, solid. There were still some minor errors, but very little that posed any serious threat.

“There.” Dylan tapped her pen against the screen and hit pause. The still showed Camden, hands on his hips right after coming out of the quad axel. Nothing unusual. The axel itself had been perfect. Sustained momentum and flow.

“That hip isn’t right,” she said.

She showed me the spin again, then, as he landed, the twinge. Barely noticeable. He hid it very well. He’d been hiding it from me.

“It’s not just here. I’ve been seeing it for a while, Ren, but when I ask him, he won’t admit anything’s wrong, and I can’t help if he won’t talk to me.”

That sounded like Camden. Too stubborn to know when he needed assistance.

“Will you speak to him?” she asked.

My heart clenched. “I don’t think I can help.”

She leaned back in the chair and sighed. “I’m not going to ask what’s going on between you two, because unless it impacts the dance, it has nothing to do with me, but as his partner, he needs to be able to talk to you if something is off. He needs to bring this to us, or it will impact the dance. We’re a team. We’ll only win this competition if we’re together. Talk to him, Ren.”

“I’ll try.” Perhaps he’d listen. It had been a week since the gala. I could ask him to go to dinner, as professionals.

“On another matter.” Her tone changed, loosening up. “The Olympic committee has been in touch.”

“Really?”

“It seems Team GB would like to speak with you after the Meridian.”

Team GB. The Winter Olympics. I willed my heart to slow. There was no use getting ahead of myself. “Well, that is . . . good.”

“It’s very good, and well deserved.”

I sighed and sat back. “A conversation is not a selection.”

“Ren, the Olympics is where you’re meant to be. It’s a crime it hasn’t already happened. Perhaps it was fate that your father was at the gala.”

It was likely no coincidence that my father had reappeared in my life and the Olympic committee had taken notice. He no doubt had some hand in it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. If I was going to compete at the Olympics, I wanted it to be on my own merit, not my family name. How would Camden feel for me? I wanted to speak with him, to share the news with him, but some part of us had broken apart at the gala. A private dinner could repair some of the damage.

“What do we have scheduled for tomorrow night?” I asked.