Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Welcome back for the final competition of the figure skating season—the World Championships, here in Montreal. All eyes are on the superstar pairing of Pippa Cartwright and Evan Thomson as they take the ice for day one of the competition.”
“It’s been a pleasure watching them this season, watching them become better athletes, better skaters over the past few months. And what a ride they’ve had. Coming third place in France at the Grand Prix final and then a victorious win in California at the U.S. Championships and now, they’ll be looking to secure a place as favorites for being chosen to represent the USA at the Olympics on this world stage tonight.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Jessica. Not only are they competing with several other top pairs in Team USA for that coveted spot to represent their country at the biggest sporting event in the world, but they also have to compete against some of the best skaters from all over just to get on that podium this week.”
"It’s a lot of pressure, Luke. You can see it in their faces as they walk out into the arena.”
“I’d say Evan looks a little more composed than Pippa, if I’m honest with you, Jessica. She seems to be a bit distracted.”
“Well, we do know that this year, she’s had to have felt the weight of people’s scrutiny, especially with so many doubting if she really deserved her place on the team when there were other athletes, more established athletes, that should have made the team instead. But if anything, with such a strong season, she’s proved all the doubters wrong.”
“It's tough, especially at this level, and we’ve already seen that Pippa is a perfectionist. Even the smallest mistake can throw off her confidence.”
“But they've faced that pressure several times now, Luke. They've shown us they can handle it and still deliver greatness.”
“Yes, but this is the World’s, Jessica. Greatness at this level is completely different from anything else, and with how Pippa’s looking today, maybe the pressure is getting to be a bit too much for her.”
“You forget that she’s already competed against other country's top skaters. Granted, the Grand Prix is a much smaller scale, but that’s where having chemistry, dynamic teamwork, a partner you can trust, really comes into play. Evan Thomson has proven that he’s the guy for her.”
“In case you’ve missed it, folks, you’ve joined us for the World Championships, where the question on everyone's lips is: can Pippa Cartwright and Evan Thomson give everything they’ve got into their performance to secure a podium finish?”
“Babe, tell me what’s wrong,” Evan says, grabbing my arm and tugging me away from the other athletes who are due to take to the ice and perform. “Something’s not right. You’ve been distracted since we arrived.”
“I’m fine,” I murmur, lost in thought.
“You’re not. You’re unfocused, your jumps haven’t been as strong, you’re missing cues, and you’re—”
Every word is like a sledgehammer, breaking cracks in the wall that keeps my insecurities locked behind.
“Okay, I get it,” I snap. “I fucking suck. I’m the worst partner you’ve ever had.”
“Hey,” Evan clips, his fingers digging into my shoulders. “Cut that out right now. I did not say that. Just tell me where they fuck your heads at, Pippa.”
I scrub a hand down my face, uncaring if I smudge my makeup. “Wyatt told me he loves me.”
Evan’s nose scrunches up. “And that’s bad because?”
“My dad fired him.”
“Because you’re together?” he asks, eyes wide.
“Because I told him to use the jet to come see me, to be with me, and my dad found out. And like a dumbass, he didn’t say it was my fault. Oh no, instead, he had to act all chivalrous and let Dad think it was his fault.” I lean my forehead against Evan’s chest. “You should have seen my dad’s face when I told him it was me, that I’ve been in an illicit relationship with a man he’d hired to chauffer me around.”
“Pippa,” he whispers, cuddling me against him. “At least Mr. Sexy Pilot Man loves you, right?”
“Yes, but I’ve barely spoken to him since Friday night.” My lower lip trembles like I’m going to cry. I look up to the ceiling, blinking heavily, willing myself not to. “The last couple of days, all I’ve had were texts wishing me good luck.”
“Babe,” is all Evan says back, the word filled with so much regret. But it’s his lack of advice that makes me feel worse.
“What a lovely opening with their combination spin. Perfectly executed from the get-go.”
“Absolutely. Evan’s form is solid, but Pippa showed slight hesitation on the exit. They’re still very much in sync, though, so it shouldn’t be too… Oh, a bit of a wobble from Pippa there on the landing out of the side-by-side triple lutz.”
“What a pity, Luke. We’re just not used to seeing this type of lapse in concentration from her, not compared to the rest of the season anyway.”
“It has the potential to impact their technical score, but they’re still going strong. Not letting it affect them.”
“And now onto the throw triple loop, a move they perfected at the U.S. Championships. Can they…? They have, and Pippa lands with no signs of that distraction.”
“Jessica, their throw jumps have certainly been the highlight of their routine for me.”
“One hundred percent, and it looks like whatever had spooked Pippa earlier has disappeared as they move into the lift elements of the routine. Something they, fingers crossed, will have no issues with.”
“The strength Evan exudes in this lift is incredible. Watch as he lifts Pippa effortlessly, the way she holds that starfish pose with perfect precision. The stories these two tell with their bodies, the more they’re practiced and the more we’ve seen, you can really understand the emotions they're conveying.”
“Something’s wrong as Evan lowers Pippa to the ground. Is she…? Luke, I think she might be crying.”
“I’m sorry,” I mouth, a rogue tear falling down my cheek. That motherfucking lift. The one I’ve done flawlessly for months. Why did I have to associate it with him? Why can’t I stay out of my head? Why didn’t I tell him I loved him too?
“Babe, breathe, we’re almost done,” Evan reassures me as we head into our final move. We execute it flawlessly, and the roar of the crowd is deafening, but I can barely hear them as Evan holds me, my head tucked into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I cry, my body trembling as I sob. “I’m so sorry.”
“You were great, Pippa,” he soothes. “Please believe me, you were amazing.” He kisses my temple as the audience continues to clap. “Come on, we need to get off the ice.” Pulling back, he quickly swipes a finger under my eyes and wraps an arm around my waist.
He smiles wide, his showman persona in overdrive as he waves to the rows upon rows of spectators, skating toward the edge of the ice.
“ I am immune to negative thoughts.”
“I am immune to negative energy.”
Someone knocks on my hotel room door. I crack an eye open before wriggling on the spot and sitting straighter in the middle of the bed.
“I am strong and capable.”
It sounds again, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block outside distractions. This is what I get for letting my headphones die.
“I can overcome any challenges in my path.”
“Pippa?”
I groan, smacking my hand on the mattress and glaring at the door.
Shuffling off the bed, I stomp over, grumbling loudly, “Five minutes. That’s all I wanted. Five minutes alone so I could—” My words die as I stare at the man standing in the hallway, a sleek black duffle bag propped over one shoulder. “Wyatt.”
His lips quirk while I stare, slack-jawed. “Expecting someone else?”
My fingers tingle with the need to touch him, my relief palpable, but the signals my brain needs to send to get me to move aren’t firing. Instead, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
“My flight was delayed, and then it got canceled, and I was put on a different one.” He rolls his eyes. “I forgot how annoying flying commercial is.”
That doesn’t answer anything.
“What?” I ask, confused.
He chuckles, shifting his bag strap, the muscles in his forearm flexing. “Well, if you hadn’t interrupted me when I was trying to tell you…”
“Tell me what?” I blurt impatiently, well aware that I’ve cut him off again.
He raises an eyebrow, looking infuriatingly handsome in his dark blue button-down and navy jeans. “Are you going to let me in?”
I blink, snapping out of my appreciative perusal of him, and step back. “Yeah… sorry, come on in—"
“I feel a great sense of possibility in myself.”
Wyatt frowns as he drops his bag by my suitcase. “What is that?”
“Shit.” Darting toward the bed, I snatch my phone and pause the soundtrack. “I was meditating.”
“Meditating?” he repeats, his lips twitching.
“Yes. After everything you said back in France, I did some research into what other athletes do to fight the pressure and anxiety of performing. A lot came back saying meditation and manifestation.”
“And what do you do?” He looks amused as he takes one step forward.
“Both,” I reply, “I found this playlist on Spotify that repeats a whole load of affirmations and then I try manifesting what I want.”
He takes another step, his gaze inquisitive as he creeps toward me. “And what’s that?”
I inhale, preparing to say something I thought I’d never say. “Well, after how disastrous today went, I’d be happy with third.”
“Third?” He smiles, lifting his hand as if he’s going to touch me, but I bat it away.
“Wait, what would you have told me if I hadn’t left your house?”
Wyatt smiles, unbuttoning the top of his shirt, my mouth instantly watering at the sight of his tattoos. “My boys’ trip was actually me flying to Canada with Bowie and his boyfriend for a business meeting.”
My heart stops as he continues.
“Mason knows this big up-and-coming rock star who’s apparently looking to hire a pilot…”
Butterflies flap their wings. “That’s amazi—”
He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “In the future, not right now. I wasn’t going to say anything officially until after Worlds…” He gives me a pointed look, clearly remembering how annoyed I got the last time we were together and he kept using that as an excuse. “But I didn’t want you to get your hopes up if it turned out to be nothing. Worlds is too important for distractions.”
My face falls. “But that means you could be unemployed for months. Because of me. Because I kept pushing.”
“Baby,” he whispers, clasping my face and peppering my forehead, cheeks, nose in kisses. “It wasn’t because of you. I’m a grown man. I could have said no.”
“But what if you end up resenting me? What if I’ve ruined your career?” I say, voicing aloud my worries that were playing in my head throughout the competition today.
His eyes search mine, their blue gaze filled with so much love it makes my heart squeeze. “One. I could never resent you.”
“But—” He puts a finger over my mouth.
“Brat, you really need to stop interrupting me.” I narrow my eyes playfully, urging him to carry on. “And two. You haven’t ruined my career. The day I went to see your father, I’d already decided to hand in my resignation.”
I inhale sharply. “You really meant that?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’d been speaking to Mason and Bowie about potential job offers. Mase has this massive crypto company and was looking to hire a pilot on contract.” He points to himself. “Me… Baby, I’ve known I needed to leave working for your dad for a while. I wasn’t lying when I told you I love you.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, and I whimper, needing more. “I do and I want to be with you, no sneaking around, no lying. I want to love you in the daylight as well as the night… If you’ll have me?”
I launch myself at him, which is some feat considering how close we’re standing. But he catches me effortlessly, guiding my legs around his waist as I devour his mouth with my tongue.
I’m breathless, impossibly giddy as I stare down at my man. “I love you, too. Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou.”
It might have been only a couple of days, but I’ve missed him so fucking much. Clothes come off slowly, our hands exploring every inch of each other, skin touches skin, our lips unwilling to part as Wyatt lowers me gently to the bed. Eventually, though, he breaks away, and I chase after him, another whimper escaping as he moves out of my reach.
“I’m clean,” he says, pulling back enough to let me see into his beautiful eyes.
“I’m on the pill,” I reply, biting the corner of my lip and widening my legs.
“Thank fuck,” he mutters, lining himself up. “I’ve been dreaming about having you bare.”
“You dream about me, huh?” I tease, smiling hard.
He brushes my hair back from my forehead, his expression taking my breath away. “Every damn night since I met you.”
We kiss as he sinks inside me, and I cry out into his mouth, my back arching. This isn’t like the other times we’ve had sex. It isn’t urgent. It isn’t rough or dirty or inferno-level hot. It’s slow and sweet and feels a lot like making love.
Wyatt whispers my name, his hips thrusting languidly, my hands roaming the expanse of his back. We kiss, tasting and memorizing each other. Our relationship might have started as a dirty little secret, something wrong and forbidden that it should never have worked out. But this is where I’m meant to be.
Doesn’t matter if I’m in Colorado, Lake Placid, or Westchester. Wyatt is mine.