Page 85 of Ice Dance

“Yeah, you do. You just got it locked down tighter than Fort Knox.”

“Softness is weakness,” I told him, but his face fell, so I quickly summoned a smile.

“Ha ha, funny guy. Working on those jokes, huh?” He leaned forward and grinned. “I like it.” Then he dropped back just as quickly. He saw me glancing around and shook his head. “Nobody here cares, Hasegawa.”

But it did look personal, the two of us seated for breakfast, his hair wet, as though he’d stayed in this hotel overnight. He was a local skater. He didn’t need a hotel room here. Anyone who saw us, who knew us, would sense an early breakfast meeting here was unusual.

His brilliant smile dulled. “Are you gonna spend the next four months avoiding me in public?”

When the sport required it, we would be together. And as the sport required we were training together for ninety-six percent of our time, the other four percent wasn’t enough to be concerned over.

“No, of course not,” I said, looking away.

“Then relax. I’m getting some cereal. You want anything?”

“Coffee.” I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep due to his arrival, and I was feeling it.

We ate breakfast, talked easily. He told me how his night had gone, avoiding mention of the call and then appearing at my hotel door, but it was there, between us. In truth, I liked that he’d come to me. He could have gone home, but then I wouldn’t have been able to listen to his soft breathing and know how comforting I’d found it not to be alone.

We finished breakfast, then took a taxi to his local rink, after he’d insisted I bring skates to show the small people I was actually a skater and not just a Navarro fan, like the rest of his little fan club.

Navarro greeted the tutor with a light handshake and a brief kiss on her cheek, but he hadn’t brought skates, having left them at his apartment before going out last night, so they chatted at the side of the rink. They were clearly familiar.

I sat on the benches and checked my skates over.

The small girl with dark hair, whose skills I had noticed during my previous visit, came over and stood a step away, watching me tug at my laces.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hi mister.”

An adult broke from the parent group and headed over. “Hey there, Lucy, don’t bother the man.”

I smiled. “Lucy’s you daughter?”

“Yes.”

“She’s very talented for her age.”

His face gathered some concerned lines, as though perhaps he should know me but couldn’t place where.

“I work with Mr. Navarro,” I told him. “I saw Lucy skate here a few months ago.”

“Oh, yeah.” He relaxed some. “She loves it.”

Lucy decided we were very dull, and without a word, skipped back onto the ice. She treated the ice without a thought, like most people walked pavements, as though it was second nature to her.

“That’s good,” I said. I’d never chosen ice. It had just been there as part of my life before I’d known I could choose. “Enjoyment’s a good foundation to start from. It’ll make everything far easier if she decides she wants to compete.”

“Yeah, there’s one in the fall. We weren’t sure whether to enter her. It’s a lot of pressure and she’s still very young for it.”

“You should. She’ll do well.”

“Maybe.” He watched his daughter do effortless loops. “Do you uh . . . skate professionally?” he asked, noticing my bespoke black skates.

“A little.”

“Mr. Navarro’s a great teacher,” he said, glancing Navarro’s way. “He’s so patient with them. But firm too.”