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“I asked you to be my girlfriend first, though. And you said yes.”
“I did.” She smiles. “I probably should have waited until after skate practice to pull the banana move. Anyway, I dropped you off and went to hockey practice, then came back to pick you up.”
“We were going out for dinner. I made a reservation, and we missed it.”
“It’s okay. We’ll have plenty of opportunities once you’re on your feet again.” She swallows. “You were in the middle of your routine when I arrived. I watched from the door for a couple of minutes. You were flawless. It was perfect, but then Adele—” Her jaw clenches, and she clears her throat. “She messed up, and you tried to correct it, but she… She overcorrected. It was too late to stop the fall.”
“I didn’t want her to get hurt.”
“I know.” Winter plays with my fingers.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
She looks away. “She messed up the lift on purpose.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know, but you were recording the run-through, and it was all on the video. That’s why she’s not allowed to visit. I don’t think she meant for you to get hurt, but she was reckless, and it almost cost you your life.” She cups my cheek, eyes full of sadness and empathy. “I’m so sorry, BJ. I can’t imagine how hard this must be to hear. Whatever you need from me, I’m here, okay?”
Shock makes me numb. “It’s on video?”
“It is.”
“Can I see it?”
“I don’t have it with me.” Her thumb runs across my knuckles. “It’s pretty graphic.”
“So you’ve seen it?”
She nods.
“I want to see it. I need to see it.”
“Shh... Take a breath, Randall.” She presses her lips to mine. “Give it a day. If you still want to see it tomorrow, I’ll see what I can do.”
The next day, I send my parents on another takeout run. Winter is sitting crisscross applesauce next to me, working on an assignment. The only time she’s not here is when visiting hours are over, and yesterday she went to hockey practice, on my order. Her professors have given her permission to work remotely, unless it’s a seminar, until the end of the week.
“I want to see the video.”
She sighs. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Noted. I still think I need to see it.”
She stares at me, and I stare at her. Her lips are pursed, and her eyes are tired. It’s been a rough week. My parents want me to recover in Pearl Lake when I’m released. I would prefer to stay in Chicago where Winter is. Also, as cool as my parents are, and as awesome as our relationship is, my mother will smother the fuck out of me if I come home.
“It’s now or later, Snowflake. One way or another, I’m going to see the video.” I weigh my words carefully and admit, “I’d rather it be with you.”
“Okay.” Her jaw tics, but she flips open her laptop. It takes her a minute to cue it up. Her hands shake as she sets it on the tray that holds my water, a textbook, and a box of tissues.
“If it gets to be too much, just tell me.” She hits play.
The video starts at the beginning of our routine. We’re in sync, and like Winter said, we’re nearly flawless, everything smooth and carefully executed. The first combination is perfect, but then the shift happens, and I see exactly where it all goes wrong. How it all goes wrong. The jump itself is fine, and at first Adele is a perfect, balanced arc in the lift. But what she does next doesn’t make sense. The lift should be smooth, but she drops her head and her hand, and at the same time lowers her leg a few inches. I adjust, but the damage is done. A sense of déjà vu hits me. Adele has done this before. I remember the feel of her weight shifting in my hands, but usually it was just a minor adjustment. It’s different this time, and much more obvious. She drops her hand and her leg at the same time. It’s calculated and intentional. But this time the correction on my part wasn’t enough to stop us from falling.
I’m not prepared for how violently I go down, how even as we’re heading toward the ice, I try to break her fall. And I do, successfully, but when she pulls her knees in, it’s the perfect storm for even more damage.
I was wearing dark gray sweats. They don’t camouflage the quickly spreading stain on the fabric. And then Winter is sprinting across the ice, falling to her knees, and shrugging out of her coat, shouting at Adele as she tosses her phone to her.
A pool of red spreads across the ice under me, and Winter whips her belt free and uses it as a tourniquet. I close the laptop, cutting off the sound of my scream. My stomach rolls as reality hits me. My partner almost ended my life.
