Page 35 of Ice Dance

“Hey, you know what?” Casey checked his phone. “I’m going to call it a night. Don’t let me stop you guys from having fun, though. Have at it.” He buried his face in his phone, deliberately not looking up. “I’ll grab an Uber.”

He turned and walked off, like he needed to find a signal, leaving me with Jen. His sudden exit was so obvious I almost rolled my eyes.

“So, you want to get a drink?” she asked.

I liked her. But I didn’t like her. Not like that. “I uh . . . you know, sure.” I wasn’t going to be a dick about it, though.

We continued to the bar, bought our drinks, and found a table in a quiet corner. She apologized for Casey throwing his money around. I told her she didn’t have to do that for him, or me. She was one of the good ones. Easy to get along with, nice on and off the ice, and talented as well. She was going to go far. If anything, Casey was probably holding her back.

“Case told me you started skating in a roundabout way?”

Of course he had. “Yeah. I was paid to sharpen skates at a rink when I was sixteen. Couldn’t stand up on the ice back then. Didn’t care much for it. Why would you want to dance on something that’s going to rip your feet out from under you any second it can?”

She laughed. “I know, right. Insanity.”

“Then there was this guy.” I leaned back in the chair, taking my mind back there. “I can’t even remember his name. Real hot. Had all the fancy moves. Skating backwards, doing backflips.”

“You started skating to impress him?”

I laughed. “How’d you guess? In my defense, I was sixteen, so . . .”

We chatted and one drink became two, then another. It would have been easy to leave with her, go back to her rental place. We’d have enjoyed it, but the hand touches and arm nudges weren’t landing like they usually would have.

“Hey, you know . . . so . . .” I swallowed and dropped my gaze to her hand on the back of mine. “I like you, Jen. Just not like that.”

She plucked her had back and looked away. “Right.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. I’m just not looking for anything right now.”

“Sure.” She laughed, mostly at herself. “Now I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t. I have a lot going on. The competition⁠—”

Her phone pinged. “No, it’s fine, really. I should uh . . .” She read the screen and laughed. “Oh my god, Casey does not stop. He’s the biggest damn gossip in the team, I swear it.”

I laughed with her and finished my drink. The evening was over. We were just making polite noises now so we could both move on. “What now?”

“He says Hasegawa’s in Montreal.”

I spluttered, inhaled my last mouthful of beer, and coughed. That had gone right down the wrong hole. I coughed again, and wheezed.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” I croaked, eyes wet. “Fine.”

She closed her phone—the conversation was over—but now I needed to know what Casey knew. Hasegawa was in Montreal? I couldn’t ask without making it obvious. I had to let it go. Maybe he was back on Canadian soil for a sponsor meeting? That was probably it.

We caught an Uber together, that dropped her off at her rental place first then took me home to mine. I stumbled into the dark, falling over whatever I’d left on the floor, and groped for the light switch. I was definitely drunker than I should have been. Drunk enough to flop onto the couch in the dark, fumble my phone from my pocket, and bring up Hasegawa’s number. I wasn’t going to call him. I wasn’t that wasted. But I could text him? He’d reached out to me first, after all. Right?

Hi. How you doin? Heard u were in Montreal. Whatcha doin?

I deleted all of it, tossed my phone, and fell asleep where I lay.

FIFTEEN

REN

This may have been one of the most foolish things I had ever done. But if it went wrong, then I could merely claim I’d been in Montreal for business meetings, and seeing him had been an afterthought, not the entire reason for my visit.