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“Right. Okay.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Brian sounded worried.
It wasn’t her he cared about. It was what she could do. The sudden realization sliced through her heart like a knife. Brian had never seen her soul the way Darius had. He’d never sought to explore the hallways of her spirit. That had never mattered to Brian—only her performance. And her body.
“I’m fine.” It was probably the biggest lie she’d ever uttered.
“Great, then.” Brian paused, and at first she thought he’d left, until he added, “Good luck, baby. See you at noon.” His quick footsteps tapped down the stairs.
Good luck.Avery had always insisted there was no such thing as luck—that God arranged everything. Addisyn thought about that for a moment. What would Avery say about her current situation? Would Avery say that God had brought Addisyn to this place, where she stood in a provocative outfit getting ready to chase a selfish dream under the tutelage of a man who’d used her every way he could?
“God?” The word was a tentative whisper. The next second Addisyn shook her head. How crazy. If Avery had been angry, Avery’s God was certainly infuriated with her. If Addisyn was nauseated by her own actions, she could only imagine how deeply she’d offended God. What nerve, asking God for anything at this point.
But who else would hear her last cry for help? Her final SOS before her soul was gone forever?
Always before she’d wanted God on her terms. Wanted Him to overlook her behavior. Wanted Him to leave her alone. Wanted Him to keep His distance so that she could do what she wanted. Well, He had. And maybe now it was too late.
But in case it wasn’t, Addisyn looked up at the dingy ceiling, peppered with dim electric lights, and asked one simple question—the first of its kind she’d ever asked God. Only four words—yet words that she somehow knew held the power to change everything.
“What should I do?”
ADDISYN FIGURED HERsmile looked fake.
She couldn’t help it. Inwardly, her stomach was tossing and pitching so hard that she worried she might just vomit where she stood. She forced herself to concentrate.
“—placed fifth in Sectionals.” Brian gestured to her with a look of pride, like a man showing off his flashy car or his new suit. “Mr. Bourns, meet Miss Addisyn Miles.”
Ed Bourns was a thin, angular man with a lined face and olive-colored skin. The arena lights glinted off his bald head as he bent forward and offered Addisyn his hand. “My pleasure, Miss Miles.”
Addisyn grasped his hand. “Likewise, Mr. Bourns. I’m so grateful you could come see me skate today.” She remembered to smile prettily, to grip his hand firmly, to keep her tone light and feminine—all those things Brian had rehearsed with her. Yet somehow the whole exchange was dulled, numbed, as if Addisyn stood on the bleachers and watched herself meeting Ed Bourns.
“I am very excited.” Ed’s smile was a bit stiff, but nice. “You have an excellent track record. I hope you can join our athletes for Team Unlimited.”
“Yes sir, I definitely hope so as well.” Perfect, so far. Perfect, except for the pain in her soul that felt as if it were squeezing her very lungs. Fragments of disconnected thoughts whirled through her mind—eye candy—Caesar salads—Avery.
“I understand you began training late, relatively speaking. In your teens.” Addisyn nodded, and Ed continued. “That impresses me even more...that you’ve come so far in such a short time.” He stroked his chin solemnly. “I must confess, I’m so excited to see you skate that I’ll dispense with the usual interview until after I see you in action.”
“Mr. Bourns?” Brian was practically oozing charm and charisma. “May I suggest we go out to dinner after you watch Miss Miles perform, and you could speak with her then, get to know her a little better? My treat, of course.”
“That sounds perfect.” Ed smiled approvingly. “Well, Miss Miles, this is your moment. I know you realize what rides on the next few minutes, so I won’t increase your anxiety by unnecessary reminders. Just go out there and—” Ed waved his hand toward the ice—“chase that dream.”
“Here, sir, we can watch from those seats over there. The view is best from that end.” Brian motioned Ed in front of him, waiting until the man had turned away, then grabbed Addisyn’s upper arm. “Listen, baby, go out there and do your best. ‘K? Don’t blow this for us.” His gaze was almost angry in its intensity. Roughly he kissed her on the mouth, his hand gripping the back of her neck. When he pulled back, she shuddered at his eyes. “Love you, baby.” Then he was gone, jogging after Ed.
Addisyn didn’t dare wipe the back of her hand across her mouth. She might smudge all that nasty makeup. But his kiss repulsed her. It had been too hard, too—too greedy.Eye candy.
Woodenly she made her way to the ice. Positioned herself. Waited for the music to begin. Her pulse was pounding, yet oddly enough, she wasn’t even thinking about the upcoming performance. A slight ache told exactly where Brian had grabbed her arm. Did he have to be that rough?
And what had been that look in his eyes when he gazed at her?
Addisyn was honestly afraid she might just faint before Brian could turn the music on. She was acutely aware of every external sensation, everything from the slight unsteadiness of balancing on the ice, to the cold air stinging her eyes, to the softwhooshof the air conditioner kicking on. Even the hissed whispers of Brian and Ed sounded ridiculously loud. Suppose Brian couldn’t get the sound system to work again!
“Okay, Addisyn.” Brian’s words carried clearly over the ice. “Three...two...one.”
And with that, the music started, the driving, pained beat of “Fake Love.” Addisyn began skating, and as her body moved, she seemed to pierce the fog of despair and uncertainty that had enveloped her. Her stomach settled. Her head felt clear and light again.
Double loop, camel spin. Her skate blade sang as she glided across the unscarred smoothness. It was frictionless. Perfect ice.
The movements came fluidly, easily. The haunting strains of the music were entwined around her spirit, lifting her. The cries of the violin were deeper than a mere melody—they were the sobs of her own soul.
