26. Delaney
26
Delaney
My muscles are screaming in protest, but I force myself to maintain the graceful arc of my spiral sequence.
"Again, Delaney," Coach Marilyn calls out. "This time, I want to see your free leg higher."
I nod, swallowing hard as I prepare to run the sequence once more. My heart pounds against my ribcage, a constant reminder of the pressure building with each passing day. With two competitions this month—one collegiate and one pair—I basically live on the ice. Even more than I was before.
From the moment I wake up, I’m at the Glissade. Aside from my classes, I’m there until I collapse into bed at night, my body aching and my mind drained. Homework gets done in stolen moments—during short breaks or between sessions when my legs are too shaky to keep going. And if it weren’t for Breck showing up with food and encouragement—and occasionally dragging me out of the practice rink—I’d probably fuse with the ice entirely.
But even with the relentless work and Breck’s support, the familiar doubts are creeping back in. Doubts I never used to have. I wasn’t this person before. I never doubted my abilities or my dreams, no matter how hard the climb or how high the stakes.
Then Rafe blew up my life.
Missing an entire season—having my name and every misstep scrutinized and dissected—did something to me. Suddenly, people weren’t just cheering me on; they were questioning whether I could come back at all. Every single movement, every stumble, felt like evidence against me. It got to me.
Their doubt became my doubt. It splintered and festered and became ingrained. And now, no matter how hard I push, no matter how many hours I spend perfecting every edge and jump, I can’t shake the fear that it’s not enough. That I’m not good enough anymore.
I draw in a shaky breath, forcing the thoughts to the back of my mind as I push off again. The ice is unforgiving, but so am I.
"Again, Delaney," Coach Marilyn calls out. And again, I go.
As I move through my routine, my thoughts drift to Breck. I wonder if he’s thinking of me too—probably sweating it out at Hunter’s Hollow right now. The thought of him tugs a small smile from me, but it quickly fades as reality sets in: he won’t be there for my crucial performances in Boston. And I won't be there for either of his.
The Hunters hockey team has been on fire this season, with only four losses. Even if they drop their last two games, they’ll still clinch their conference and get the auto-bid, with a real shot at the Frozen Four. But I won’t be there to see it—not the regionals, not even the Frozen Four—because my competition schedule conflicts.
"Focus, Del!" I mutter to myself, shaking off the distraction.
After my second practice, this time with Lachlan and Natalie, I collapse onto a bench in the changing room, my body aching from hours of intense training. Lachlan plops down beside me, his usually pristine hair a disheveled mess.
"You okay?" he asks, concern etched on his face.
I force a smile. "Yeah, just tired. You?"
He shrugs. "Same. But hey, we're getting there, right?"
"I hope so," I reply, the doubt creeping into my voice. "Sometimes I wonder if it's enough."
Lachlan nudges my shoulder. "Come on, Del. We've got this. You're the most talented skater I know."
His words should comfort me, but they only intensify the knot in my stomach. What if I'm not good enough? What if I let everyone down? What if Breck is right, I’m pushing myself too hard and I’m going to burn out before I get to the end. The university team and the classes I need to take are taking up too much of my time and energy. But, without them I can’t afford to train full-time the way I need to.
Ethan had come from a wealthy family who had no problem funding his dream. And, their connections had allowed me to network and get the sponsors I needed. But, the drama Rafe caused and the season I was forced to miss meant I’d lost a lot of that support.
“But you’re running yourself ragged. I don’t know how long you can keep up double duty, sweetheart.”
“I know,” I sigh.
Weeks. It goes on like that for weeks. Even when the team competition is over, Lachlan and I are still training for the World Championship. I’m just glad it’s in Boston this year. If I had to travel internationally on top of everything else? I don’t think I’d make it.
As we leave the Glissade, I spot Breck waiting for me by his truck. My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, all my worries fade away.
"Hey, beautiful," he greets me with a lopsided grin. "Ready for some much-needed caffeine?"
I nod, grateful for the distraction. As we drive over to True Brew, Breck's hand finds mine, his touch sending a warmth through my body that has nothing to do with exertion.
Inside the café, we settle into our usual corner booth. I wrap my hands around my steaming "Bullseye" latte, savoring its comforting warmth.
"How was practice?" Breck asks, his brown eyes searching mine.
I shrug, trying to keep my voice light. "Oh, you know. The usual torture."
He chuckles, but I can see the concern in his eyes. "You're pushing yourself pretty hard, Del."
"I have to," I reply, my grip tightening on the mug. "The World Championship is coming up fast, and I can't afford to slack off."
Breck reaches across the table, his fingers gently prying mine from the mug. "I know, babe. But don't forget to breathe, okay?"
I nod, but inside, the anxiety swirls. How can I relax when everything I've worked for is on the line? And how can I tell him that the thought of facing it all without him by my side terrifies me more than I'd like to admit?
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to meet Breck's gaze. "It's not just about me, you know. Your regional tournament in New Hampshire is coming up too. I wish I could be there for you."
Breck's eyes soften, and he squeezes my hand. "Del, you don't have to worry about that. I know how important the World Championship is for you."
But I do worry. The guilt gnaws at me, a constant undercurrent beneath the surface. "It's a big deal for you, Breck. And if you make it to the Frozen Four..." I trail off, unable to finish the thought.
He leans in, his voice low and earnest. "Hey, one step at a time, okay? We both have a lot on our plates right now."
I nod, but the words stick in my throat. I’ve come to rely on him too much and that’s not his burden to bear. It’s mine. So I keep my tongue stuck and pretend everything is fine, just fine.
"I've barely seen you lately," I murmur, tracing the rim of my mug. "Aside from when we fall into bed together every night, asleep before we hit the pillow, that is. How are you holding up with all the prep?"
Breck runs a hand through his hair, his fatigue evident. "It's intense. Between practice, school, and trying to keep my head in the game, I feel like I'm barely treading water sometimes."
I reach out, touching his cheek. "I'm sorry I can't be there more for you."
He catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "You're here now. That's what matters."
I stare into my coffee, watching the swirls of foam dissipate. The silence between us feels heavy, loaded with unspoken words and growing tension. I want to reach out, to bridge this widening gap, but my own insecurities hold me back.
"So," I start, my voice barely above a whisper, "tomorrow's the big day."
Breck nods, his warm brown eyes meeting mine. "Yeah, it is. You ready to knock 'em dead in Boston?"
I force a smile, but it feels brittle on my face. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."
He leans forward, brow furrowing. "Del, what's going on in that head of yours?"
I bite my lip, struggling to find the right words. "I just... I can't shake this feeling, you know? Like everything's about to change, and I don't know if I'm ready for it."
Breck reaches across the table, his calloused hand enveloping mine. "Change isn't always bad, you know."
"I know," I sigh, squeezing his hand. "But what if... what if we drift apart? What if our dreams take us in different directions?"
He's quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. "They won’t, baby. No matter what happens, we'll figure it out. Together."
I want to believe him, I really do. But there's a nagging voice in the back of my mind, whispering doubts I can't silence. I've trained for this moment my entire life, pushed myself to the brink of exhaustion day after day. So why do I feel so uncertain now?
But, I know why. I lost my chance at the last Olympics and I wasn’t able to compete last year. Because of Rafe.
"I just wish you could be there for the whole thing," I admit, hating how small my voice sounds.
Breck's eyes soften. "I know, babe. I wish I could too. But hey, I'll be there for your first performance, cheering louder than anyone else."
I manage a weak laugh. "Just don't embarrass me, okay?"
He grins, that roguish smile that never fails to make my heart skip. "No promises." He lifts his shirt. “Do you think I can fit ‘DELANEY’ on just one chest?”
I laugh and swat his hand so he drops his shirt. We fall into a more comfortable silence, but I can't help wondering: why do I feel so lonely, even when he's right here?
??????
The hum of the car engine fills the silence as Breck and I speed down the highway towards Boston. My fingers tap an anxious rhythm on my thigh, matching the beat of my racing heart.
"You know," Breck says, glancing at me with a playful smirk, "if you keep fidgeting like that, you might vibrate right out of the car."
I roll my eyes, but can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "Very funny, hockey boy. I'm just... nervous, I guess."
"The great Delaney Quinn, nervous?" He gasps in mock surprise. "I don't believe it."
"Shut up," I mutter, punching his arm lightly. But his teasing has the desired effect, easing some of the tension knotted in my chest.
As we near the arena, the butterflies in my stomach kick into overdrive. This is it. The moment I've been training for. I take a deep breath, trying to center myself.
"Hey," Breck says softly, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "You've got this, Del. You're gonna blow them all away."
I want to believe him, to absorb his confidence. But as we pull into the parking lot, I can't shake the feeling that this isn’t going to go the way I hope.
The arena looms before us, a behemoth of steel and glass. As soon as we step inside, the bustling energy hits me like a wall. Skaters, coaches, and officials hurry in every direction, a choreographed chaos I know all too well.
"Ms. Quinn!" A harried-looking woman with a clipboard rushes up to us. "You're needed for interviews in five minutes. I'm afraid your friend will have to wait in the designated area."
And just like that, they're pulling us apart. I grip Breck's hand tighter, not ready to let go.
"I'll see you soon," he promises, pressing a quick kiss to my temple before they whisk me away.
As I'm ushered towards the press area, I plaster on my best media smile. I answer all the inevitable and uncomfortable questions about my absence on the circuit last year and why I’d changed partners after four years with Ethan. But inside, I'm counting down the seconds until I can be back with Breck, my anchor in this storm of sequins and spotlights.
After an hour, I'm finally free. And ready to collapse into Breck's arms. Lachlan catches my eye as he heads off with Natalie, giving me a knowing wink. At least someone understands.
"I'll catch you later, Del," Lachlan calls over his shoulder. "Try not to miss me too much!"
I roll my eyes, but can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. My eyes scan the crowded lobby, searching for Breck's familiar form. But who I see instead has my blood boiling.
Dakota.
She's leaning in close to Breck, her hand on his arm, giggling at something he's said. My stomach drops, a familiar ache blooming in my chest. But then I notice Breck's posture—he's leaning away, his smile strained.
I take a step forward, ready to march over there and remind Dakota we don’t touch without permission. But before I can move, a hand clamps down on my shoulder.
"Well, well. If it isn't my favorite little skater."
Rafe's voice sends a chill down my spine. I turn, coming face to face with the man who nearly derailed my entire career.
"What do you want, Rafe?" I ask, my voice as cold and sharp as the ice beneath my skates.
He steps closer, invading my space, his size forcing me to tilt my chin to maintain eye contact. His breath brushes hot against my ear as he murmurs, "I think you know exactly what I want, Del. Or should I say, who? "
Disgust churns in my stomach, and I step back, but not fast enough to escape his hand grazing my hip. I shove it away, glaring. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Come on, babe," he purrs, reaching out like he’s about to touch my face. I slap his hand down. His smirk only widens. "We were magic together. Why throw that away for some meathead hockey player?"
A sharp, bitter laugh escapes me, cutting through the tension. "Are you serious right now? You threw us away, Rafe."
His eyes narrow, a familiar flash of anger sparking in their depths. He leans in again, close enough to make my pulse kick up in defense. "That was a mistake. I've changed, Del. Give me another chance. We could be great again."
I hold my ground, my voice steady and cold. "Do you honestly think Dakota will stick around if you dump her for me? And even if she would, do you really believe I’d let you keep skating with her if I were dumb enough to take you back?"
His smirk falters, but only for a moment. "Dakota's nothing compared to you, Del. She knows it, I know it, and deep down, so do you."
I snort, the sound laced with disbelief. "You're unbelievable, Rafe. You think you can just stroll back into my life, flash that smug little grin, and I’ll forget everything? The cheating? The lies? The attempts to destroy my career? Newsflash—you’re not worth the drama, and I’m done cleaning up your messes."
He steps closer again, his fingers twitching like he’s deciding whether to reach for me. “You don’t mean that. You’re just mad. I get it. But we’re good together—you know we are.”
I take another step back, putting more distance between us, and glare at him. "We were good, Rafe, until I realized you were only good at one thing: ruining everything you touch. You can go ruin someone else’s life now, because mine’s off-limits."
His jaw tightens, his confidence cracking at the edges. “I want another chance,” he seethes.
I'm about to tell him exactly where he can shove his 'another chance' when I see movement out of the corner of my eye. Breck is striding towards us, his face a mask of fury.
Before I can even process what's happening, Breck has grabbed Rafe by the collar, yanking him away from me.
"Breck, wait—" I start, but the words die in my throat as I watch the scene unfold before me.
Breck's voice is low and dangerous, his warm brown eyes now blazing with anger. "Keep your filthy hands off my girl."
Rafe's lip curls into a sneer, his arrogance undimmed even as Breck towers over him. "She was mine first."
I want to interject, to tell them both that I'm not some prize to be claimed, but the tension crackling between them is electric. My heart races, torn between concern and a twisted thrill at seeing Breck so protective.
Breck's laugh is harsh, devoid of his usual warmth. "Then you must be stupider than you look." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. "Touch my girl again and you'll be missing limbs. Can't skate all pretty without feet, can you?"
The threat hangs in the air, heavy and charged. I should be appalled, but a tiny part of me—the part still raw from Rafe's betrayal—feels a flicker of satisfaction.
Reality crashes back as I notice the growing crowd around us. Phones are out, recording the confrontation. My stomach drops. This is the last thing we need right before the competition.
"Breck," I hiss, grabbing his arm. "Let's go. Now."
He doesn't budge, still glaring at Rafe. I tug harder, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please."
Finally, he relents, allowing me to drag him away from the prying eyes and pointed cameras. I find a secluded alcove and round on him, my earlier fear morphing into anger.
"What the hell were you thinking?" I demand, my voice low but intense. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
Breck's jaw clenches. "I was protecting you, Del. That creep had his hands on you."
"I had it under control," I snap, even as a part of me doubts the truth of my words. "I don't need you swooping in like some... some hockey knight in shining armor!"
He scoffs, crossing his arms. "Right, because you were doing such a great job handling it on your own."
His sarcasm stings, and I feel my eyes prick with frustrated tears. I blink them back furiously. "That's not the point, Breck. This isn't just about me anymore. Do you realize how many people saw that? How many cameras were rolling?"
The anger in his eyes flickers, replaced by a flash of uncertainty. "I... I didn't think—"
"No, you didn't," I cut him off, my voice breaking. "You didn't think about how this could affect my career, or Lachlan's, or the entire competition. God, Breck, the media is going to have a field day with this!"
He reaches for me, but I step back. "Del, I'm sorry. I just... I couldn't stand seeing him near you like that."
I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. When I open them, Breck's face is a mix of regret and frustration that mirrors my own conflicted emotions.
"I appreciate that you were trying to help," I say softly. "But this... this isn't how I needed you to do it."
The silence between us stretches, filled with all the things we're not saying. Finally, Breck nods, his shoulders slumping. "I should go. You need to focus on your performance."
As he turns to leave, I feel a pang in my chest. This isn't how I wanted our last moments together to go. But the damage is done, and now I have to face the consequences.
"Breck," I call out, my voice barely above a whisper. He pauses, looking back at me with those warm brown eyes that usually make me melt. Now, they just make my heart ache. "Good luck at your game. If I don’t get a chance to see you after."
He gives me a sad smile. "Knock 'em dead, Del."
And then he's gone, leaving me alone with the weight of what's to come.