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“Pulling me out of conversation like that. Running out of the party. Catching a taxi home. Leaving me there to look like I’d gone stag.” The cold sparks in Brian’s eyes burned brighter with every phrase. He shrugged out of his expensive coat and tossed it with disgust on the back of the sofa, never taking his eyes from her face.
Addisyn’s mind whirled. What was he saying? Had he forgotten she was mad at him? Did he care at all?
“Brian—I’m—” Suddenly she stopped. She’d meant to back down, apologize the way she normally did. But why bow to the blame? She hadn’t done anything wrong. She straightened her shoulders and stared defiantly into his face. “I just left the party. It’s no big deal.”
Now he was the one to be shocked. “You don’t see anything wrong with that?” His fury was like a tangible force, shoving her into a dark corner of the mind. “You didn’t think about how awkward it would be for me?”
Addisyn wanted to remind him that he could have left when she did, but she decided not to. Getting to the bottom of whatever Brian had been thinking when he tried to get her a gig as an entertainer made any other disagreements seem petty. “Have you forgotten why I left?”
That dart pierced his façade slightly. “No.” Some of his anger seemed to leave with his weary sigh. “Look, Addisyn, I can tell you’re upset. I don’t know why Marty brought that up at the party.”
I can tell you’re upset...as if it were surprising that she was, and he was extraordinarily perceptive for noticing. Addisyn gritted her teeth. “You don’t know why he brought it up?” A hard laugh jerked from her throat. “Idon’t know why you ever mentioned the idea to him!”
His eyes narrowed again, signaling the end of his brief conciliatory moment. “I don’t appreciate the way you’ve handled this.” For the first time, his eyes looked too hardened. “I did you a favor, trying to get you a good job. It’s steady income, and it’s skating, and then if you decide you want to try competing, you can always—”
“IfI decide?” Everything was swirling together, a weird distorted version of reality. “Brian, you know I’m competing! That’s what I do!” Her voice echoed in the apartment. “Do you honestly think I would give up a shot at the Olympics for a cheap gig in some—some trashy theater?” She paused for a moment, then asked the question that truly mattered. “Do you think Ishould?”
Brian’s lips tightened. When he spoke, exasperation scorched his tone. “Okay, baby, I know you won’t want to believe this, but your career is in serious trouble.” For the first time during their exchange, he glanced away, his eyes searching for a spot on the carpet. “Look, I wanted to break this to you more gently, but—” His voice trailed off as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“But what?” Addisyn wiped her sweaty palms against the sides of her dress. A hard lump plummeted into the pit of her stomach.
“I got a letter a few weeks ago. From Mitch Shapiro.” Brian paused and finally lifted his gaze. “He’s the financial director of the Rising Stars Foundation.”
Rising Stars.
Addisyn’s heartbeat was a sledgehammer, jarring her chest. No way could she have ever had the money to compete in a sport as expensive and uncertain as figure skating—not as a nearly homeless teen growing up in the New York City slums. But after her first few competitions, she’d been awarded one of the coveted Rising Stars scholarships, elite sponsorship packages for young skaters with great potential. Whatever could the letter have said...unless... She had to swallow before she could whisper the word on which her future hinged: “And?”
Brian pressed his lips together. As if even his stony soul was feeling some of the devastation of the moment. “You’ve lost your sponsorship. They—the organization has more worthy applicants.”
“More—what?” Addisyn couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything besides a huge void of blackness, spreading over her future.
“We should have seen this coming. They took a chance by renewing your sponsorship even after the injury. But—well, fourth place in Regionals was bad enough. Now you’ve failed to medal in Sectionals.”
“So what?” A rising swell of anger blocked the pain. For now. “That doesn’t mean anything! I just—”
Brian held up a hand to stop her. “It does mean something! It’s your ticket to Nationals. And Nationals is your ticket to the Olympics!”
Addisyn lifted her chin. No way would she back down—even if she was starting to tremble. “I’ll work extra hard. I’ll ace Regionals and Sectionals next season and go on to Nationals. And I don’t need sponsorship, not anymore, because you’re coaching me. So, no big deal.” She wouldn’t let Brian know how cold and quivery her insides felt.
“You’re not hearing me, Addisyn!” Brian’s words were jagged with impatience. Two steps toward her, and he grabbed her shoulders, yanking her upward and forcing her to meet his gaze. “Look, this was your time to go to Nationals. Okay? Not next year, not the year after that. Make Nationals this season, keep the momentum going next year, and you would have been an easy nominee for Team USA.” His words kept climbing a ladder of anger, a fury that billowed and rose like a storm surge. Without warning, he shook her once, a hard yank to reality. “The only way you’d be going to the Olympics now is to blow the top off Nationals next season, and you can’t get there. And if you don’t make that, you can’t wait years to compete!”
“I’ll wait as many years as I need to!” Who was this man? This monster, clutching her shoulders and screaming until his face was distorted? Addisyn’s heart was galloping now, faster than the whirlwind in her mind, faster than the beat of the song she’d skated to. “This is my one and only dream! Don’t you get that?” She didn’t care now that she was yelling. “I’ll wait my whole life if I have to for the chance to compete!”
“Shut up and listen to me!” Brian’s voice thundered through the room. His thumbs seemed to be boring through her shoulders.
She’d seen him lose his cool before, but never like this. He was like a bad imitation of her dad. Old memories twisted with present pain to wrap panic around her soul. “Let go of me!” Anger and betrayal writhed within her—along with another emotion she’d never associated with Brian before—fear.
Brian released his grip and took a single step back. He swiped a hand hard across his mouth, apparently grappling desperately for control. When he spoke again, all emotion had drained from his voice, leaving it hard and sharp as ice. “Figure skaters are going to the Olympics these days at sixteen, seventeen years old. I mean, look at Tara Lipinski. She was training when she was six and already had an Olympic gold medal before she turned sixteen.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Come on, Addisyn. You didn’t start training until you were a teenager, and you’ve done a remarkable job in the time you’ve had, but, well, you’re at a disadvantage. I thought at one time we could get past it, but”—his voice dwindled—“we can’t.”
Was Brian saying she would never be an Olympian? That her life’s goal was out of reach—forever? No. No, he couldn’t be. “What are you saying?” The words sounded breathy, as if she’d just finished a long workout.
“I’m saying you’ll be twenty-one in two months. By the next Olympics, you’ll be almost—”
“So now I’m too old on top of everything else.” The zip and twang of fury was like a lightning strike to her soul. She’d never hated anyone more than she hated Brian at that moment.
He just shrugged. A cool, mechanical gesture. “Look, I get it. I’m disappointed too.”
No, he didn’t get it. Not at all. “This is my dream. I can’t just give up!” The words were frantic, tumbling over each other.
