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Brian sighed and massaged his temples with his fingertips. If only he could be so sure. But after this morning’s voicemail...
For the first time, he forced himself to stare head-on at the question that was constantly intruding itself, the question that was becoming impossible to ignore. What if Addisyn wasn’t planning to come back? Ever? What if she disappeared permanently in the hollow vastness of the world?
The panic of the thought was drowned in a surge of anger at himself. This was a joke, right? He couldn’t have really been this stupid. Couldn’t have actually let his golden girl get away.
Sure, she wasn’t as good as she thought she was, and she was nowhere near Olympic caliber, but really, who cared? Even if she would never glide across the world’s biggest stage, she could still compete in smaller events—events where artistry was more important than technical perfection. And artistry she definitely had in spades. Each lonely night, when he once again watched that video of her performance at Sectionals, the truth stuck an accusing finger in his face. He’d been out of his mind to insist she had no future on the rink. He was always annoyed when sensational reporters used vague, sentimental terms likemagicandeleganceto describe skaters, but he had to admit those words fit Addisyn perfectly. Her skating was magic.
And it wasn’t just her skating.
“I want to skate more than anything.” For a moment that sweet voice sang so vividly in his memory that he was almost sure she was there again, right on the bench next to him. Where they’d sat when she’d told him those very words.
He remembered how innocent she’d looked, how wide and trusting her gaze had been. He closed his eyes, basking in the memory, tracing the faultless perfection of her face.
She’d cocked one knee on the bench, hugging it to her chest. “Skating has always been my thing. It’s helped me through some—stuff.” For the first time her lids had dropped, her expression mournful.
Brian had itched to put his arms around her, kiss away the shadows. But he’d told himself to take it slow. Thanks to her holy-roller older sister, a religious prude, the girl had been more naïve than he would have believed possible of someone who’d grown up in the tawdriness of New York. He forced himself to focus on her words instead of her beauty. “Stuff?”
Addisyn had sighed. “My sister’s great. I love her to death, don’t get me wrong. But...she doesn’t understand how important skating is to me.” She’d turned troubled eyes to him. “She wasn’t even at my last competition. Said she had to work or something.” She shrugged. “She just doesn’t care.”
“The world is full of people who don’t understand. The bigger your dream, the louder your critics.” Brian’s lofty answer had been a spur-of-the-moment inspiration that impressed even him.
“That’s right. That’s exactly right.” Addisyn had gazed at him admiringly, as if he were some kind of erudite philosopher. The truth was the words had just popped into his brain out of thin air, probably something he’d heard in some superhero movie. “And I’m finding that out with Avery. She’s such a Nazi. Definitely not my biggest fan at all.”
He couldn’t wait any longer. He was ready to open the door for Addisyn, teach her things she’d never imagined. “No...she’s not. But it doesn’t matter.” He’d struggled to keep his focus enough to just say the next few words. “Cause you’ve found your biggest fan.”
“Who?” The question had been a whisper.
Brian had leaned forward and carefully, carefully, brushed her cheeks with his fingertips. “Me.” It was like stroking a butterfly. “I’ll always be your biggest fan, Addisyn Miles.”
Her eyes had widened, and she hadn’t pulled away. Slowly, as if it were the closing scene of a romantic movie, Brian pressed his lips to hers. The moment had been perfection. Then he’d pulled back and stared at Addisyn. “Your biggest fan.” He ran a finger across her brow. “You’re gonna go to the top, Addisyn.”
Her face wore an expression he’d never seen there before. Cautiously, yet as naturally as the changing tides, she’d leaned toward him. “The very top.” She settled her hands on his shoulders. “And you’ll go with me.” This time she’d initiated the kiss.
Just the lingering perfume of that three-year-old memory made Brian ready to go through any hell for one thing only—to get her back. To have Addisyn as his own, to feel her hands in his. To see her sitting beside him on that very bench where he’d introduced her to a whole new world. To watch her wake up in the mornings and sweep her across ballroom floors. He opened his eyes, shaking off the reverie, but the vision still wavered before him.
Magic.
If Addisyn wasn’t magic, nothing was. A surge of emotion rose in Brian, so powerful that it shocked even him. Yes, he needed Addisyn professionally—she could be the lucky horseshoe of his career.
But on a deeper level, he neededher—not just her abilities. He craved her desperately. He wanted to see her smile at him more than he wanted his next breath.
Focus, he told himself. He’d use his go-to attributes—ruthless determination, business acumen, and a dash of plain old luck—and he’d make good on his mistake. He needed something, some peace offering to use to woo her back to New York. And right now, he couldn’t think of anything more convincing to use than her own dearest dream. If he could guarantee her another chance at greatness, surely that would be too big a carrot to turn down.
But how? Okay, maybe his delivery had been crude, but not everything he’d told Addisyn had been inaccurate. As talented as she was, she still was a relative newbie to the world of ice. She wouldn’t have the technical foundation to make it to the Olympics the traditional route, through Regionals and Sectionals and ultimately Nationals. And although Brian realized he’d put his foot firmly in his mouth when he’d made the comment about her age, the general truth still remained. Building her technical base to the point where she could breeze through Nationals would take time she didn’t have. She couldn’t afford to wait much longer if she wanted her Olympic chance. Not with the skating world being flooded with fierce competitors barely past puberty.
He chewed his lip in concentration. He just needed to find Addisyn’s niche, he told himself. Some arena where she could use the full extent of her artistry but where her technical deficiencies wouldn’t derail her entirely.
Possibilities zigzagged through his mind like runaway cats, and though many he instantly dismissed, a few of them began gradually unfolding into feasible plans. He pulled out his cell phone and flicked through his voluminous roster of contacts, looking for a name he hadn’t needed in a while. Yeah, he was still in there—Ed Bourns. The business title line under his name—Brian often used those, having so many connections it was hard to keep them all separate—read “Team Unlimited Agent.”
Team Unlimited. Brian suddenly smiled. This could be just the ticket he needed to get Addisyn back to him—for good. At any rate, he thought as he tapped the number and waited for it to ring, he had to try.
Because she was magic...and he couldn’t live without her.
SILENCE WAS NOTone of Darius’s favorite things, so whenever he was alone in his house, he turned on some nice instrumental background music. Usually something modern yet old-fashioned at the same time. This afternoon he opted for a volume of Brooklyn Duo’s top tracks. The soft strains of mingled piano and cello wafted through the empty rooms—rooms that were otherwise shrouded in too much silence and harboring the ghosts of too many memories.
It was because of all that silence that Darius didn’t spend much time at home. Either he was at the climbing center, or at the gym, or enjoying an open-air concert downtown. In his spare time, he clicked on his app for Uber and cruised around Whistler ferrying tourists—as he’d planned to do this afternoon, on his day off. No problem. He’d rather fix Addisyn’s bike.
He grabbed a roll of paper towels, a wrench, and a can of chain lubricant from the garage, then headed into his mudroom, where he’d parked Addisyn’s bike. He squatted by the wheel and began carefully threading a new chain around the sprocket; he’d picked it up at the bike shop on the way home.
