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“How did you get into my room?”
Standing from the chair, he straightens his suit jacket. “Because I remember my own wife’s birthday.” The air changes. Cools. Suffocates me. I don’t even know. “Well, you’re clearly busy and don’t want me here. I’m staying at The Huntington if you decide you can tolerate the man who has given you everything you’ve ever wanted for the length of one meal. I fly home in two days.”
And with that final fake self-pity act, having gotten what he came here for, I watch him leave.
TWENTY-SEVEN | ANASTASIA
For something designedto make you feel better, positive affirmations fucking suck. They aren’t working. I don’t feel any more positive. I don’t feel any more affirmed. Why do I bother?
Moving behind me so his body looms over mine, Nate’s hands hold my waist tightly, the heat of his fingers searing the skin of my exposed stomach. Keeping his body close to mine, his mouth finds my ear, whispering. “You ready for this, Allen?”
My heart is ready to beat out of my chest, thoughts in irreparable chaos. It’s been weeks, and I don’t know if I’m ready. No. I know I’m not. I don’t want to.
“Three, two, one…”
“No!” Gripping his wrists, it doesn’t take much to pull him off me. “No, I can’t!”
Letting me go, he allows me to skate away, shaking off the uncomfortable prickling tension at the bottom of my neck. This is getting ridiculous, and I know that. I can feel his frustration when I stop him before he lifts me. He never takes it out on me, he never says anything, but I know it’s there.
Nate skates off in the opposite direction, hands on his hips, catching his breath. “Nate, I’m sorry!” I shout for what feels like the millionth team.
He glides toward me, and I want to cave to my instincts. Let him scoop me up, carry me away, and shower me in affection. I want to wrap myself around him and let him whisper promises into my skin about how he’ll never let me down.
Two hands capture my face, lightly tilting my head back. I want him to bend down and kiss me, but he won’t because I’ve told him he can’t.
Another thing to be angry with myself over.
“Why don’t you trust me?” His tone is soft, which only makes this harder. “Stas, I’m not going to drop you.”
“I…” I don’t have an answer for him. Every time the anxiety swirls in the pit of my stomach, I can’t breathe. We’ve been practicing in the gym and I know he can pick me up, but for some reason, being out here doing it for real is just too much.“I do trust you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Moving toward Brady, she’s wearing her signature look of irritation. “You two need to work this out. Anastasia, if you want to be a pair skater, you need to be able to work with a pair.”
She’s saying it like that knowledge isn’t my current obsession. “I know, Coach.”
“The longer you let this fear rule you, the more you suffer. Work it out and work it out quickly.”
Holding back the tears, Nate and I step off the ice and put our guards on. The worst bit is I’m having so much fun training with Nathan, and now that he’s used to his skates, he’s learning quickly.
Even though he’s here to help me, I’m weirdly proud when he nails a jump. Don’t get me wrong, he’s landed on his ass a hundred times, each time funnier than the last, but now if he’s on the floor, he knocks my legs out from under me when I try to help him up, catching me in his lap.
My love for skating has been revitalized and he’s a massive part of that. He drapes an arm across my shoulders as we walk toward the locker rooms. “We’re going to do it. I’ll make a plan. We’ll get through it together.”
Stopping in his tracks, I follow his eye line to the last person I was expecting to see. “Aaron, what’re you doing here?”
“Can we talk?” His eyes float to Nate, and his posture stiffens. “Alone.”
“Absolutely not,” Nate snaps.
“Nathan…” The last thing I need is a brawl. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Aaron.”
“Don’t say anything then,” he says softly. “Just listen and then I’ll go.”
Nate’s arm tightens around me, and I dislike the feeling of being stuck between them. This is the longest Aaron and I haven’t talked; it’s not because I’m not desperate to hear him say something that helps me make sense of this, it’s because I’m sick of being his verbal punching bag.
“Let me get changed first,” I tell him. “I’ll meet you in the office in a couple of minutes.”
“Anastasia,” Nathan says firmly, and I can sense his anxiety, but I can’t avoid Aaron forever.
