Chapter 34 #2
Yesterday's mistakes replayed in my mind, followed by the feeling of disappointing everyone. Mateo, my dad, Erin, Marcy. I needed to show her years of coaching me wasn’t all for nothing.
Skaters trickled out of the room, the wait time longer than yesterday, which just made my nerves skyrocket even more. At this point, I really just wanted to get out there and get it over with. The wait was excruciating.
By the time Marcy appeared and called my name, I was a ball of anxiety. As I headed to the door, I found my head turning to look over my shoulder at Keira. I didn’t even know why I did it. She was already staring at me, a smirk playing on her lips as she waved her fingers at me.
Walking to the ice was a blur. Whatever Marcy said went in one ear and out the other. One second, I was about to step onto the ice, and the next, I was getting in position. It was like all of the sudden my thoughts weren’t my own, too wrapped up in all the feelings threatening to drown me.
I had wondered if I would break during the season, maybe the time had finally come.
When the music started, I let my body take over, the routine engrained in every fabric of my being. But as I pushed off the ice, blades cutting through it, my mind wasn’t in it. It was almost like I was a passenger in my own body as I went through the moves.
I jumped where I needed. I twisted my body, pretty much a puppet in a pretty dress. When I went to do my triple axel and stumbled on the landing, almost falling but catching myself at the last moment, I knew it was over.
I knew there was no way I was making the podium—possibly not even the top ten.
I finished the routine. Waving and bowing like I always did and pasting on a pretty little smile to hide the emotions underneath.
Roaring filled my ears as I stepped off the ice, taking my blade protectors from Marcy, not hearing a thing around me. I sat there in a daze as the scores came up. Sixth place, but by the end of Keira’s routine, I was in tenth. So far from where I should be.
The rest of it passed in a blur. I barely remember the interview—something about an off day, another competition before the Olympics. The words came out automatically, like I’d said them a hundred times before. Maybe I had.
By the time I changed and followed Marcy out to the car, I was running on autopilot. I nodded when I was supposed to, murmured agreement at the right moments, but none of it really registered. My phone buzzed from its spot in my bag, but I left it where it was.
There was only one thing stuck in my head.
On repeat.
Disappointment.
I dragged my feet up the stairs to my apartment, each step heavy. I was grateful the competition was held in Austin, Texas this year, so after being interviewed, Marcy and I got a quick flight home. While it wasn’t long, my body felt like it had just gotten off a thirteen-hour flight.
Marcy had dropped me off with a demand to sleep and take a few days off. She was going to be happy to know I had zero plans of getting out of bed for the foreseeable future.
I should have taken the elevator, but some part of me relished the burn in my thighs, something else to focus on rather than the overwhelming failure I was drowning in.
I let out a huff as I reached my floor. Shoving the steel door open, I stepped into the hallway, slowly making my way to my apartment.
The sight of a figure leaning against my apartment door made me pause. A figure I knew like the back of my hand. The same figure who’s been messaging and calling me nonstop since I got off the ice hours earlier—and who I’ve ignored.
As if sensing I was there, Mateo’s head jerked up. “Emmie.”
Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to launch myself at him. I’d wrap my arms around his middle, breathe in his familiar scent, and probably cry into his chest while he told me everything would be okay.
Instead, I stood there, hands at my sides, unmoving.
Disappointment.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice flat and emotionless.
“You haven’t been answering my messages or calls. I came by to make sure you were okay.” Mateo pushed off the door and took a step toward me, a mix of concern and confusion written on his face.
“I’m fine.” I made my feet move, stepping around him to get to my apartment. I ignored his eyes as I unlocked the door and walked inside. He quickly followed in after me as if he could tell I was seconds from closing the door on him. I really didn’t want him here.
I sat my bag on the floor and headed for the couch. I wanted to curl up on it and not think, not feel for just a moment.
“Em.” I saw Mateo move toward me, hand stretched out. I quickly sidestepped it, turning around and putting space between us. He quickly retracted his arm, and while it tore at my heart, I stayed where I was.
I noticed the worry lines near his eyes. The slight bags under them like he didn’t sleep last night. Was he concerned about me? Again the word disappointment flared in my head. I disappointed him and kept him from sleeping. Guilt gnawed at my chest.
“Talk to me. What’s the matter?”
I let out a harsh laugh. “What’s the matter?”
All the emotion I had bottled up was suddenly coming to the surface. It’d been simmering near the edge since I got off the ice. Mateo’s words were the match that lit the fuse inside me.
“What’s the matter is, I completely blew that competition. A competition I should have easily won, but instead, I made mistakes. Mistakes that will make it ten times harder now at worlds, where my chances at the Olympics are getting slimmer and slimmer!”
My voice was raised, but I didn’t try to lower it. Not when all this emotion was bursting free and making me feel something other than guilt and shame.
“I let you become a distraction when I should’ve been focused.”
I saw Mateo flinch at my words.
“A distraction?” Mateo’s voice was hoarse, like he was the one yelling.
“Yes! A distraction. I was perfectly fine before you came into my life, and now here I am, having to crawl my way back to get a shot at the thing I spent the last year working toward.”
My words were harsh and cruel, but they flew from my lips.
“What the hell was I thinking?” My hands tugged at my hair.
Mateo let out a short, disbelieving breath, running a hand over his face.
“So, that’s what I am to you?” His voice was quiet, but it hit harder than if he yelled. “A mistake?”
I didn’t answer. It felt like the walls were closing in. I should take the words back. Tell him I didn’t mean a single thing I said, but I just stood there.
Everything I worked so hard for was slipping through my fingers. I knew it was only one competition, one moment that didn’t define my future, but it felt like it did. The failure gnawed at me, spreading until it drowned everything else out.
Mateo let out a sharp breath, hands dragging through his hair, his face pinched.
“Emmie,” he said, a little louder now. “Are you serious right now?”
My chest tightened, like it knew what I was doing was wrong and that I should fix this before something worse happened. But still, the wrong words came out.
“I don’t have time for this, Mateo. Not when everything’s on the line.”
“What exactly do you mean by this?” Mateo’s jaw was clenched so tight the muscle twitched, hands curling at his sides.
“Us. Whatever,” I gestured weakly between us, “this is.”
The second it left my mouth, I felt it. The shift. Like something cracked straight down the middle of our relationship.
Mateo blinked at me, like he was trying to decide if I was serious. “You’re…what? You’re just…done?” There was a sharp edge to his voice now. “Because you had a bad skate?”
Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I swallowed them down. If I let them fall, I’d take it back and I couldn’t do that. Not when I felt like this.
“I can’t do this right now,” I said instead, even though that wasn’t really what I meant.
Something in his expression hardened, the hurt sealing over into something colder, his walls slamming down.
“Okay.” He nodded once. “Yeah. Okay.”
Neither of us moved. Mateo stood there like he couldn’t believe what was happening. The expression on his face was almost my undoing. I couldn’t bring myself to take the words back. To apologize. All these ugly feelings brewing inside wouldn’t let me. Disappointment. Failure.
Mateo turned, dragging a hand down the back of his neck as he walked toward the door, each step too loud. Too final. Like if he walked out, I wouldn’t see him again.
Say something. The thought ricocheted in my head over and over. Fix it. Stop him.
My throat tightened, the words right there, but they wouldn’t come out. Not when every part of me still felt like I was failing. Like I’d only drag him down with me.
Mateo’s hand closed around the doorknob, pausing. He stood there for a second, his back to me, like he was waiting. Like he was giving me one last chance to stop him. All I had to do was say his name.
I didn’t.
The door opened, then shut with a quiet click that echoed louder than anything else in the room. The second it did, everything in me gave out.
A broken sound tore from my chest as I sank to the floor, my back hitting the side of the couch before I slid down it. My hands came up to cover my face as tears finally spilled over. Hot, uncontrollable, relentless. Everything crashed down on me all at once.
“I didn’t mean it,” I whispered, but it was too late.
He was already gone.