Fated Skates

Chapter Nineteen

“This might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Ben marveled as a group of five-year-olds dressed as Minions skated to “Happy

Together.”

We’d met at the rink for the showcase, mainly because I’d been subjecting myself to way more Magic Martino than I’d signed

on for and didn’t want to do yet another date-adjacent activity with him. Hailey and Neil had to skip the event because they

were union and getting close to hitting their hours for the day, which left the two of us without a buffer, sitting side by

side in the packed arena.

I had my usual visceral reactions watching the adorable little girls—joy that they were blossoming in the sport, and worry

about what they could face if any of them turned out to be like me at age six. All it took was one striving parent plus a

driven coach to mine raw talent. The descriptors for a promising young skater sounded positive . . . small and strong . . .

tiny and powerful . . . a fearless firecracker. The reality of what might await the girl possessing all those gifts was what

stressed me out.

I understood all too well that talent and damage often went hand in hand.

“Do you know any of them?” Ben leaned over to ask me.

“Almost all of them, and I recognize the ones I haven’t met,” I said. “Like you noticed, we’re a close-knit community.”

He looked down at the program. “Zoey skates last.”

“She’s the rink’s star.”

“After you,” he added.

Which we both knew was true, but there was no need to talk about it. It didn’t help that we were attending the event together,

because I usually attracted plenty of attention on my own. The parents and athletes I saw every day didn’t give me a second

glance, but the friends and family who came along to the event treated me like a celebrity. It wasn’t fair to pull attention

from the skaters, so I’d opted for my usual disguise of no makeup and a black knit cap pulled low. Ben had done his part to

camouflage his star power in a baseball cap and a half zip with a high collar.

Still, I could feel eyes on us.

The little minions finished and glided off the ice to thunderous applause.

Ben studied the program. “My buddy Nathan is next. This might be his final performance.”

I whirled to face him. “What do you mean? Is he injured?”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Not at all. I think it’ll be because he found a new obsession. I gave him my number and

he’s been texting me all sorts of questions about speed skating. I gave him a couple of simple tests to try and he sailed

through them. The kid has promise. I’m trying to get him hooked up with some folks I know in the area.”

Ben sounded so wistful that I couldn’t resist turning the tables and interviewing him.

“Do you miss it?”

“Fuck yes,” he replied quickly. “Way more than I expected.”

I stared at his profile, waiting for him to continue, but he busied himself with the program. An unfamiliar furrow appeared

on his brow.

“Was it hard?” I probed. “Retiring?”

Ben stared out at the ice. When he finally answered his voice was a scrape of gravel. “Yeah. Devastating.”

I didn’t expect such a candid response, especially given that we were surrounded by people. I wanted to continue the conversation,

to learn about the post-Olympic reality check that I heard could level even the strongest athletes, but Ben’s expression didn’t

welcome additional questions.

I’d gotten a hint of what it was like when I quit. The mix of no rules and an empty calendar had been exhilarating at first,

until it felt like a black hole that could swallow me up.

“Did you ever think about coaching?”

We paused to clap as Nathan skated to the center of the rink, dressed in black pants with a sequin stripe up the side and

a bright blue silky shirt.

“I don’t have the right temperament,” Ben answered. “I don’t want to create stars, I want to be the star. And realizing that has been the most humbling part of my comedown.”

It was so self-aware that I had zero doubt that Ben had gone through therapy at some point.

We both went silent as “A Million Dreams” from The Greatest Showman began. I glanced at Ben out of the corner of my eye as Nathan skated, and I could tell he was trying to gauge how Nathan’s

power strokes and weight shifts would translate in speed skates.

Ben leaned closer to me, and the haze of his warm, earthy scent made me realize that he’d worn cologne for our nondate.

“I almost feel bad about stealing him, because he’s really good.”

“If it’s what he truly wants then you’re not poaching,” I replied. “The decision is up to him.”

Nathan finished his performance, and it felt like half of the people in the stands jumped up for a standing ovation.

“Quite a fan club,” Ben whispered to me. “They’re going to hate me if they find out I played a part in his decision to quit.”

A hand reached between us to tap Ben on the shoulder. We both turned to find a mother and her preteen daughter seated behind

us, grinning.

“I told you it was him,” the girl said under her breath.

They both glanced at me and I saw their eyes go wide in unison. “And Quinn too? Oh my gosh,” the girl said excitedly. “Bailey

was right!”

We smiled back in the practiced way we’d cultivated when stopped by fans.

“Hi there,” Ben said in his Prince Charming voice. “Are you enjoying the show?”

The little girl seemed nervous but her mom looked ready to jump on top of Ben. “We are,” she replied. “My niece is the one

who skated to Bolero. Wasn’t she amazing?”

“So good,” I answered.

The skater had put on a competent performance, but I could tell that her skating career would probably flame out in a couple

of years. She acted like there was a checklist in her head, and each move she completed brought her closer to being finished.

Her technique was decent but the passion just wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry but I have to ask,” the woman said as she glanced between us. “Are the rumors true?”

I tensed, but managed to keep my expression neutral. “Rumors?”

“Tell them, Julia,” the woman urged.

The girl cleared her throat as she fussed with her phone, like she was nervous to suddenly be the center of attention. “So,

I follow Bailey Harlow on YouTube, and she posted about how you guys got a flat tire while you were on a date and she and

her dad basically rescued you two. Pictures and everything.”

It was a struggle not to react to the revisionist history.

Ben laughed good-naturedly. “Pictures plural? Because I can only recall taking one.”

“Yeah, look.” Julia pushed play and thrust her phone out to us.

“Hey guys,” the young girl we’d met spoke to the camera. “I wanted to hop on here because I’ve got a story time for you that

you’re not going to believe. Look who I ran into!”

The picture of the three of us flashed on-screen, then Bailey proceeded to talk about how her dad had helped us change our

tire, and how we couldn’t keep our hands off each other while we waited. She included a few photos that she probably took

as they were driving away, including one where it did look like we were sharing a moment, with us standing close and staring into each other’s eyes.

I choked when I saw that the views of the video were over two million. Who the hell was Bailey Harlow?

“So you’re dating, right?” Julia asked excitedly.

The PA system screeched, making everyone flinch. It meant that they were getting ready for the next performer, which would

end the teenage interrogation.

I opened my mouth to shoot her down but Ben beat me to it.

“I’m sorry to tell you that the influencer padded the story. Quinn and I are not dating,” he said with a smile, to soften the blow. “We’re working on a segment for The Score. I’m a new correspondent for the show.”

I noticed that he skipped the “trial” part of his employment.

“But you guys are so perfect for each other,” the woman pouted. “The skating thing . . .”

She trailed off, because that was probably all she knew about either of us.

“Agreed, we’d probably be quite the power couple,” Ben said. “But right now Quinn’s got gold on her mind. That’s her focus.”

The woman locked eyes with me and reached out to clasp my shoulder. “You’re going to win this time, I know it.”

The familiar weight of the world’s expectations pressed against my chest, but I managed to find my smile for her.

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

The girl held up her phone, her expression hopeful. “Is it okay if I . . . ?”

Ben agreed to a photo before I could weigh in, but I realized that it didn’t matter what I wanted. Our story was already out

of our hands and being written by the rest of the world.

We turned so that we were both facing her as she snapped the photo. Ben left his arm draped around my shoulders for a few

seconds longer than necessary.

The show rolled on until it was finally time for Zoey. The vibe in the room shifted as she skated to the center of the ice,

looking stunning in an emerald-green costume. The whimsical “La Valse d'Amélie” from the movie Amélie began, and as usual, Zoey captivated the rink.

Ben leaned to whisper in my ear, and his warm breath against my skin made me want to lean closer to him. “She’s so good it’s

ridiculous.”

“I know,” I said softly. “I’m really proud of her.”

I noticed that Ben remained nearer to me than he needed to be, pressed up against my arm in a way that felt familiar.

“Is she going to get her shot to be a part of Team USA?”

“Not sure,” I sighed. I glanced over my shoulder and lowered my voice. “Politics.”

It killed me, because Zoey was a dynamic performer who married technical skills with a natural gift. But there were a finite

number of spaces on the team, and despite our sport being merit based on paper, the reality was that it was subjective. Skaters

had to deal with favoritism and questionable judges on top of all the hard work.

Ben pulled out his camera to film her. “For the show. It’ll be good to intercut some of this footage with her interview.”

“She’ll love that.”

I saw a text pop up on his screen as he filmed Zoey.

S.O.S., it read.

“Oh shit,” he muttered as he stopped recording. “What now?”

A couple more texts came through, and I could tell by his expression as he read them that it was bad news.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Not sure. I need to call Kim to get the full story but I’ll wait until Zoey’s done.”

I watched his expression out of the corner of my eye as Zoey nailed her final jumps. Brows drawn, his usually smiley mouth

downturned. Whatever he was processing seemed major.

Zoey took her bows and Ben excused himself to make the call. I tried to intuit what could shake up the normally unflappable

Magic Martino. Were they pulling my segment? Or worse, did they decide the show didn’t need him after all?

Ben finally came back as the students skated out to do group bows and present their coaches with flowers.

And he was frowning. Fuck. Bennett Martino didn’t frown.

“What happened?” I asked him as the audience around us stood up and started shuffling for the exits. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. This is about you,” Ben replied. He heaved a sigh. “Your mom called Kim to tell her that the only time we can film with them is this week.

For whatever reason, your parents are completely unavailable after that. More vacations, maybe?”

The tension between my shoulder blades released and I smiled reflexively. “Okay, this is good news! Now we can skip the home visit.”

Ben still looked pained.

“I wish.” He shook his head. “Kim said the higher-ups still want it, because it’s an important part of your story.”

I knew that it only mattered to them because it was juicy. “Daughter fires momager” was exactly the kind of high drama that

brought in viewers.

“But . . . how?” I demanded. “We’ve blocked out our schedule for the week, and there’s no way I’m sacrificing my training time to make this

happen.”

Ben paused to let a few people pass by him.

“They’re literally checking flights right now.”

I stared at him for a beat, fuming, then speed-walked away, threading through the crowd with my eyes down so I wouldn’t have

to greet anyone. The same burning anger I used to feel in my chest almost daily was back, like heartburn but worse.

It was just like her to gerrymander her way back into my life. It would’ve been hard enough dealing with her with my Italy

departure date looming closer, but at least I would’ve had time to mentally prepare for it. Keeping me unstable was all part

of her plan. Forcing me to come back was bad enough, but now I had to do it on her terms.

Ben caught up to me by a dark side exit that no one used. He grasped my arm, and I wrenched it away, glaring at him.

“Quinn, I’m sorry. I really am. I know how hard this is. I tried to beg off, I swear. I said we still had plenty we needed

to film here, and the piece would be totally fine without the home visit, but they’re not having it.”

I fought to keep my eyes from welling. She didn’t deserve my tears.

I squared up in front of Ben. “Doesn’t anyone care that I don’t want to do it? Like, do my feelings not matter at all? Your

goal is content by any means necessary?”

He flinched. “You know that’s not how I feel. I tried getting us out of it.”

Us. Like we were a united front.

“I’m not going. I’m not ready to see her. I need time to get in the right headspace and you guys dropping this on me and expecting

me to be okay with it isn’t fair. So, no. Tell Kim it’s not happening.”

His expression tensed for a moment.

“I know this sucks. We’re putting you in a tough position. But—”

“But all you care about is the show,” I shot back at him. “And getting the job.”

“Quinn, no, not at all.” Ben’s voice was wounded. “I was going to say that I’ll be there for you. I know the backstory, so I think I

know how to protect you.”

I softened a little at the idea of having Ben shield me from my Mom’s smiley jabs.

“No matter what, you have to go get your license, so won’t it be a little easier with me by your side?” Ben asked gently.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t argue with his logic. My mom would be on her best behavior in front of an audience, and when she tried to slip in a zinger, maybe Ben would step up to deflect it?

He reached out to take my hands in his, and as much as I wanted to pull away, his warmth anchored me.

“I’ve got you, Quinn,” he said, staring into my eyes. “Okay?”

I couldn’t look away because it felt like he was peering into my soul, just like last time.

“Do you trust me?”

Damn it. It went against every primal instinct in my body, but I knew the answer was yes.