Chapter 18
EMMIE
Wait For It by Hamilton, blared through the speakers.
Just loud enough to hide the sound of my blades cutting through the ice.
I turned on the edge of my skate, moving into a Biellmann spin.
Reaching back, I grabbed the inner part of my blade, using my momentum to bring my leg completely back and up toward my head.
With an arched back, left leg extended as high as I could go, I spun. My eyes locked on my skate as I rotated eight times. Back when I first started skating, the move was almost impossible, but years later, it was one of my signature moves.
I spun out, hands coming out to my sides with flourish.
Jumps and spins were a huge part of figure skating, but the most important thing about it was the artistry that came with it.
You needed to bring the judges and fans into the performance and make them feel something.
Every hand flick, every facial expression, every little dance move counted.
I transitioned from the spin to a leap in the air, legs spread in a split. Every move was choreographed perfectly to fit the music, filling every moment.
With the song seconds away from ending, I put the last of my energy into the last spin of my routine. Squatting down, my left leg came parallel with the ice, arms coming around to wrap around my leg as I rotated.
The world blurred as I moved, the song approached it’s final notes.
“I’m willing to…wait for it.”
It ended just long enough for me to stand up and spin once more before stopping on my toe pick, head and arms thrown back.
I held the position for a moment, chest heaving, eyes glued to the rafters.
I finally broke the hold and stood straight up, hands coming to my hips as I tried to catch my breath.
Four minutes straight of skating had my lungs and thighs burning.
This new ending to the routine was even harder than the previous one I was practicing.
Regionals were only two weeks away, which meant I didn’t have much longer to get this right. This would be my first figure skating competition being back in the circuit as I tried to make it to the Olympics one final time. I was going to do my absolute best to not fall flat on my face.
“You’re distracted,” Marcy commented when I neared the boards. She held out my water bottle. I took it with a winded, “Thank you.”
I was distracted. Hard not to be when all I could think about was Mateo.
What we did a few nights ago replayed in my mind on a constant loop.
The feel of him, the taste, the way he made my toes curl and my body shudder with every brush of his hand and tongue.
I swear I could still feel the aftershocks of the orgasms he gave me.
So, yeah, my mind was not here at all.
“I know.”
“Want to tell me what it is?” she asked.
I stayed quiet for a moment, debating if I should tell her about Mateo or not.
Not that I thought Marcy would be upset if I was dating, but she knew how serious I was about my career.
How I’d do anything for it. There was a good chance she’d ask if Mateo was worth it.
I didn’t have an answer for that quite yet.
“I met someone,” I finally answered.
I braced myself for whatever Marcy was going to say. She was my coach, but she was also a motherly figure in my life, so I did care about her opinion.
“Okay.”
“I know but—wait. What?” Her response floored me. I froze on the ice, eyes wide as I stared at her, truly not expecting nonchalance on the matter.
“Emmie, you’re a grown woman, and you can make your own decisions. It’s not my business or my place to tell you what to do outside of skating.”
“I…”
Marcy flashed an amused smile. “It is possible to have a life outside of skating.”
I knew that, but sometimes it was easier said than done. I’d spent most of my life striving to be the best that everything else went to the wayside. Now that I was older and trying to figure out life outside of skating, I was starting to realize I missed out on a lot.
“You still need to show up and perform.” She gave me a pointed look, referring to my distractedness and continued. “But I’m happy you’ve met someone. What’s his name?”
It felt a little odd to talk about my love life with her, but the urge to tell someone other than Erin pushed in.
“His name is Mateo.” I looked down at my skates as a smile grew on my face. “He’s… He’s pretty great.”
Mateo was more than I ever expected him to be.
I immediately pegged him as a cocky football player and wrote him off, but he was far from that.
He was probably the most humble person I’d met.
He cared about his friends, his team, his family.
He was way more than just some guy that threw balls for a living.
Marcy’s eyes roamed my face, her gaze softening at whatever she saw. “You like him.” She said it so simply. I didn’t try to argue because it was the truth.
“I really do. He’s an athlete too, so he understands me better than anyone ever has.” The weight of expectation, the discipline, the obsession to be the best… It wasn’t something I had to explain to him. He got it.
“What sport does he play?”
I tugged my lower lip into my mouth and shot her a sheepish look. “He plays football.”
“Football…” she trailed off, my expression and Mateo’s name finally clicking. “Emmie, he plays for your father, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah,” I winced.
“Does your father know?” Marcy gave me that look that screamed tell me he knows. After years of her coaching me, I knew her expressions like the back of my hand, and this one was of disappointment.
“Uh…well.”
“Emmie James.” There went the full name. “And why haven’t you told him that you’re seeing his star player?”
“I don’t know.” I pushed off the ice and skated in a circle, needing to move. “He’s making an effort to call me more and see me. He keeps confirming that he’ll be at regionals.”
My fear seemed stupid, but I was afraid if I told my dad that he’d take it out on Mateo, which in turn would ruin what we had going on. Bigger than that was the fear of losing my dad again. We were making progress. What if I told him and we went back to talking once a month?
“Emmie.” Marcy’s tone made me stop. “Like I said a moment ago, you are an adult. No one can make decisions for you. Not even him.”
“I know,” I mumbled.
“I know your relationship with your dad has had its ups and downs, but he loves you. After every competition, he pretty much blows my phone up talking about you and how proud he is.”
“He does?” My chest tightened, heart lodged in my throat. “Why doesn’t he do that with me?”
My dad messaged me after competitions, but it was always along the lines of, “Great job, kiddo! You killed it.” It was nice that he went out of his way to say it, but it always came across as unbothered.
“That’s something you need to ask him yourself, but you have to know he loves you.” She crossed her arms.
A flurry of emotions swept through me, so fast I couldn’t catch a single one long enough to name it. Shock. Hurt. Gratitude. Confusion.
My dad never came to my competitions. Never sat in the stands. Never cheered when my name was announced. And yet…he’d been watching and reaching out to Marcy after every performance?
I didn’t know why that revelation stunned me. Maybe because part of me had already accepted he wasn’t paying attention at all.
So much was going through my mind that part of me wanted to call him and demand answers. But I also knew that would get me nowhere.
I was going to have a talk to him soon, and not just about the usual surface-level things. There were real conversations waiting to happen. But not tonight. I needed time to untangle my thoughts before they spilled out in ways I couldn’t take back.
Marcy tapping on the boards drew my attention back to her. She gave me a stern look.
“You need to tell him about Mateo. The sooner the better.”
“I will,” I promised. Despite the other conversation we needed to have, telling my dad couldn’t wait much longer. It was unfair of me to make Mateo not say a word, either.
“Your dad may surprise you.”
I tried not to get my hopes up, knowing how bad it would hurt if it got crushed.
A deliberate clearing of a throat made me flinch, my gaze snapping sideways and landing on the one person I’d been trying, and failing, not to think about all day. What was he doing here? I thought he was still on the road from their away game yesterday?
“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Mateo stepped toward the boards, glancing between Marcy and me.
“Not at all,” I said. The sight of him instantly calmed the storm inside my mind. I’d deal with all that later.
I drank in the sight of him hungrily. It’d only been two days since he left for his game, but it felt like weeks. My hands itched at my sides to grab and kiss him. The only reason I didn’t do just that was because Marcy was staring at the two of us with raised eyebrows.
“Mateo, right?” Marcy crossed the distance and stepped in front of him, hand held out.
“Yes, ma’am.” Mateo flashed that easygoing smile at my coach, taking her hand in his.
“So, you’re the one who’s distracting my star student.”
“Marcy,” I hissed. Mateo did not need to know that.
“Sorry about that. But if it helps, she distracted me during my game today.”
I raised an eyebrow, pleased that I wasn’t the only one having a hard time today. Did he think about being inside me while he played? The taste of me? By the twinkle in his eye, I had a feeling he did.
“I’ll leave you two alone but remember to take an ice bath later,” Marcy reminded me. “And think about what I said.” The pointed look she gave was more of a warning than a suggestion.
“I will,” I answered with a dip of my chin.
“Nice meeting you, Mateo.” With that, Marcy walked off, leaving us alone.
Mateo turned to me with a smirk. “Told your coach about me, huh, firecracker?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
“Oh, it already has.”
“Did you come here to annoy me or…?”