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“And Navarro?” someone asked.

I breathed in, trying to steady myself. “Camden . . .” My voice broke again. I looked down, trying to collect myself, but there was no use in pretending now, and I didn’t want to. “Camden has fought for every second he spent on the ice today and during the rhythm dance. He is, frankly, the bravest man I know.” My voice wavered now, and I knew every mic would pick it up. For once, I didn’t care what they thought. “I know what this Olympics has cost him. I know how much pain he’s been through, and how many times he could have quit. He kept going. I admire that.” Tamsyn’s fingers closed around mine. “Camden is in fact the reason I’m here today.”

Questions erupted. Words like “speculation, controversary, disciplinary” stood out. There was no way I could answer them all.

Then, one question stood out. “There were rumors you’d quit. Did Camden persuade you to return?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

I swallowed. “That part is private.”

“By the way . . . I love you.”

I could hear him saying it, see him walking backwards, throwing the words out there, casually changing my life.

The media team escorted us away from the reporters before I could say anything else that went off script. Skates off, we cooled down. Someone nearby said we had ten minutes before the medal ceremony on the podium.

“We did well,” Tamsyn told me. “Are you happy, Ren?”

“Yes, of course,” I answered automatically.

“You know . . . you only smile for real when he’s around.”

I almost denied it, but she knew too much for me to try and lie. “I’m sorry . . .”

“It’s alright, Ren. Really. But you should let yourself enjoy this. You deserve the win.”

She was right. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel anything, I realized. I felt everything. I just had no idea what to do with it all. There was too much of it all at once. If I let myself feel it all, I’d be on the floor.

“Five minutes,” someone called. “Can we get Ward and Hasegawa in the holding area, please?”

We stood side by side, wrapped in Team GB colors, and headed for the holding area, where Cam would be.

I knew one very important thing. I wasn’t pretending for anyone anymore. I was done being someone I was not for others. When I accepted the medal, I was accepting it for me, the real me. I was not going to be held by expectations or imprisoned by people who did not truly care for me, for who I was inside. I was going to be the true and real Ren Hasegawa from now on.

THIRTY-NINE

CAMDEN

I saw Ren approaching the holding area, wrapped in Team GB gear. We all stood around—Canada, France, the UK—brilliant smiles on, with some glitter and smudges of makeup left in our hair after hastily being cleaned off.

Ren’s eyes brightened as soon as he saw me. His smile too.

“Hey,” I said.

He stopped beside me and discreetly took my hand. The contact shot through me. He bowed his head and whispered, “My gold medal winner.”

His.

I grinned and gave his hand a squeeze. It was too public to do more, even tucked behind the scenes there were organizers and athletes everywhere. But all I wanted to do was throw myself into his arms, wrap my legs around him, and kiss him breathless. Gold! Fucking gold! And I’d beaten Ren, I mean . . . c’mon, that was damn impressive.

The door opened. His hand left mine. And we walked out in pairs, waving at the crowd. Spotlights lit the rinkside. The crowd cheered, whistled, applauded. The atmosphere had my blood running hot again.

This was the moment.

The Olympic podium.