Page 96 of Ice Dance

We only had a week before flying back to Montreal for the last leg of training. It would be on us soon.

I chatted with the woman next to me, an Olympic skier. Navarro’s knee had been resting against mine under the table for some time. I had no inclination to move it. It would disappear when he turned to talk to the Canadian team, and then return. I liked it there, in fact. But several times, he’d caught my arm, or touched my hand as he’d talked. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it. But the overfamiliarity of every brief touch shocked through me.

“I hear he’s a spirited one,” my new skiing friend said, keeping her voice low, and nodded at Navarro.

“Camden?” I asked. Who else would she be talking about?

“I suppose they invited him due to his background?”

I hesitated, unsure what she meant.

Navarro’s knee vanished from its warm spot against mine. He reached for the wine and said, “Well, I suppose they should have a poster child for the poor people.”

“Oh,” she laughed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Wasn’t it?” he asked, and his smile had thinned, his eyes going cold.

“It’s clear that you’ve done so well for yourself.”

His smile turned wolflike.

He could be cutting, when he wanted to be. I nudged him under the table. His glare cut to me.

“It’s all thanks to this man,” he said, flicking his fingers at me. “If it wasn’t for him, I’d still be on the streets eating out of the trash.”

My heart dropped.

The skier’s face dropped.

Navarro turned his chair around, and dragged it across the floor to where Casey and Jen made a space for him.

“I’m sorry,” I told her.

“It’s fine . . . It’s good that he’s able to be here.” She shrugged, implying he couldn’t help himself. An urge to correct her sat on the tip of my tongue, to argue for him, but Navarro could fight his own battles. He did not need me to fight them for him. Even if I stepped in, I’d likely make it worse. He already hated when I managed him.

I couldn’t let it go completely, though.

“Camden is here on his own merit—” A firm hand landed on my shoulder, cutting me off.

I stopped talking, and lifted my gaze to a distinguished older Japanese man.

I almost didn’t recognize him, until he said a single word.

“Son.”

THIRTY-FOUR

CAMDEN

The entire evening had revolved around Hasegawa. Every conversation, every compliment, every remark. I was invisible beside him. It hadn’t mattered, not to begin with. Then Casey and Jen had appeared, and I’d thought maybe the night would be bearable. But the side-eyes and backhanded comments from others around the table had begun to grate. Then the skier had triggered me. I probably hadn’t needed to be so aggressive with the comeback, but it had felt good. And it hadn’t just been aimed at her, but at everyone at that table who’d spent the evening searching my name on social media because they had no idea who I was and found all of my dirty history—and probably that damn clip of me and Hasegawa dirty dancing.

My hip had started to throb, literally adding insult to injury.

I couldn’t take much more of it, so I cut them off, Hasegawa too, and huddled with the Canadians, who more than welcomed me. But the hurt stung, and my hip pounded.

“What’s happening after the Meridian?” Casey asked, at ease at the table. Almost everyone had relaxed now we were an hour into the event. Even the posh people had gotten all shiny-eyed and loose-lipped.

“After I win, you mean?” I joked.