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“Good to see you, man,” he says, slapping my bicep. “It’s good to see you back on the ice. I heard a rumor you were figure skating.”
“Yeah, I was, for six weeks. Another big drama. Never stops at Maple Hills, right?” I scratch at the nape of my neck awkwardly. “Director of Sport benched me because a kid on the skating team got hurt and blamed me. They were going to stop the whole team from playing until they found who was responsible, so I took the fall. I wasn’t allowed to play until he could skate again.”
“Oh shit!”
“It wasn’t bad, y’know. My girlfriend is the guy’s partner, so it was six weeks of skating and training with her. I liked it, other than my body fucking aching. They’ve got a competition today, actually; that’s where I’m heading.”
Cory’s brows furrow together. “Wait a minute, are you talking about Aaron and Stas?”
Not a good sign.“Yeah, you know them?”
He nods his head, confusion apparent. “I went to school with Aaron back in Chicago. I’ve known him since we were kids. You got blamed for Aaron getting injured? Stassie is your girl?”
“It was on Halloween. He showed up at The Honeypot with a busted wrist, said I’d pranked him, and he got hurt. You know our repu—”
“Halloween? Dude,” he interrupts, holding up a hand. “Aaron got hurt playing football with us. We were drinking and dicking about at the beach, having a bonfire. Davey tackled him and landed on his arm…I didn’t know he’d blamed you for that. What the fuck! He hasn’t told us any of thi—”
I can see his mouth moving in front of me, but I can’t hear anything over the sound of the ringing in my ears.
Everything seems to slow down as all the pieces rapidly start dropping into place. I’d made my peace with being the first person Aaron would blame during an unfortunate accident. I’ve been battling against this team’s reputation for almost four years, and I wasn’t angry about it anymore.
But he knew. He fucking knew how he got hurt, and he tried to get me in trouble for it anyway.
For what? For Anastasia? She’s been single for years and he’s never made a move. To get me kicked out of school? Nothing makes sense because what he did doesn’t fucking make sense.
“Hawkins?” Cory asks warily.
“I’ve gotta go.”
I’m halfway to San Diego before I realize I’ve been driving in silence. I crank up the radio, anything to drown out my thoughts, which are loud as hell right now. The main one is what am I going to do when I get there? I want to burst in there, tell everyone what he did, how he deceived the closest people to him. Butshedoesn’t deserve this. This is the most important competition of her life so far.Am I really going to set off a bomb when she needs to be concentrating?
I’ve answered my own question before I’ve even finished formulating it—this needs to wait.
I can’t imagine a future without Stassie, and sadly, her future is intertwined with him too. Even more so if they win this weekend.
Their names are going to be recorded side by side.
He knows she needs him more than she loathes him. That’s what this whole therapy bullshit has been about; he’s been reminding her she needs him as a partner.
Like we didn’t all already fucking know.
The rest of the drive flies by, and before I know it, I’m pulling into the packed parking lot of the Spirit Center. Stas said this is the first time in years that nationals have been on the west coast, and I feel lucky right now that she’s not on the other side of the country. Above everything else happening, I’m glad I’m here to support her, and that’s what I’m concentrating on.
People are lining the halls when I make my way into the building. Trainers with the protégés, parents with their very nervous kids, and huge families wearing different skating team emblems on their jackets.
It’s kind of wild that the best figure skaters in the country are in this building right now and Stassie is one of them. Figure skating for six weeks definitely gave me a new appreciation for how goddamn difficult it is.
I might still have bruises on my ass and knees from falling down.
I’ve got about ten minutes before the pair’s short program begins, which gives me enough time to buy a drink and use the bathroom.I don’t know why I’m so nervous when she’s the one who has to skate.
I’m lucky to get a seat at the end of an aisle, next to a huge family all wearing matching T-shirts. Stassie and Aaron are on second in their group, but I missed the warm-up, so I haven’t even had a glimpse of her. I don’t manage to pay attention to the first pair that perform, my mind is too preoccupied. My seat is directly above the access tunnel onto the ice, and in my eye line I can see the back of Brady’s head, so I know Stas is close.
Practically every part of the exterior of the rink is covered in cameras, with the whole competition being streamed online. The guys have all piled into our house to watch and have been blowing up our group chat with support—and horror—when someone in the last group had a nasty fall.
“Next on the ice from Maple Hills Skating Team is Aaron Carlisle and Anastasia Allen.”
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as I watch her skate onto the ice. She looks beautiful, her long, light brown hair curled and pinned back, showing the detailed diamantéencrusted netting across her chest and arms and down the front of her navy-blue costume. They move into the center of the rink, hand in hand, waiting for the music to begin.
