29. victoria
TWENTY-NINE
victoria
L eo offers to drive, but my mom shakes her head, sniffing at his sports car as she walks by. “Such a dangerous toy,” she mutters under her breath. Leo is heading to practice after brunch, so we have no choice but to take two vehicles to the restaurant.
Before I climb into Leo’s car, Mom turns to me. “Victoria, I want to talk to you about something.” Although she wears a polite smile, I can tell there’s no room for debate. I could make a stink about riding with her, but it’s better to pick my battles, and this one isn’t worth the fight.
I glance at Leo apologetically. “Meet you there?”
He nods as I head to my mother’s monstrous SUV. All the way to the restaurant, I stare out the window, staying quiet while Mom keeps up her usual monologue. She talks about skaters perfecting new lifts and jumps, dropping names like she’s updating me on a leaderboard I’m no longer on. Somehow, I just don’t care about it like I used to, even though my mother clearly is invested.
Each comment feels like another reminder of how far behind I’ve fallen. Even though Leo skates faster than anyone I know, Mom can’t help pointing out all the technical elements hockey players could never pick up, not in this short amount of time. And honestly, she’s not wrong. Leo isn’t planning to be my permanent partner, so why would he?
By the time we reach the restaurant—a fancy brunch place that serves overpriced eggs and employs waiters who act like you should be grateful they’re letting you eat there—I’m done talking about skating and my future in the industry.
Leo gives me an encouraging smile before boldly grabbing my hand in front of my mom. Her eyes flick down, but she doesn’t comment. Instead, she just looks away and strides into the restaurant.
We’re seated at a small table, and I end up next to my mom while Leo sits to my other side. As the server approaches, Mom immediately zeroes in on a few stray crumbs on the immaculate white tablecloth. “It seems this place has gone downhill in the last year,” she says, loud enough for the waiter to hear.
I want to sink into the ground.
Mom has always been vocal about her opinions, but this is embarrassingly rude. I see it more clearly now than I ever did growing up. Back then, I accepted it as normal—a part of my life I didn’t know was unhealthy—comments about my appearance, critiques of every performance, reminders of how I didn’t measure up. The worst part? When I made mistakes, they were always my fault. Either I wasn’t working hard enough or I didn’t care enough.
Even now, I’m weary of pushing back, especially not in public or in front of Leo. Because no matter how hard I try, Mom will always find a way to make me feel like I’m not doing enough. And I don’t need her dissecting my flaws under a magnifying glass for Leo to see.
When the waiter returns, she doesn’t even glance at the menu. “I’ll take a coffee, and my daughter would like tomato juice,” she adds, folding her napkin neatly in her lap.
Leo’s eyes cut to mine like he’s waiting for me to say something. He knows I don’t drink juice for breakfast.
“And for you?” the waiter asks Leo.
“Two glasses of water, please,” he says.
When the waiter brings our drinks and takes our food orders, Leo slides the second water glass over to me without a word. His fingers brush mine briefly, his eyes darting to look to the side of my face while I stare straight ahead, like he’s trying to figure out why I’m so quiet. He doesn’t know that this is how I deal with my mom—by attempting to keep the peace at all costs. It’s like I’ve become a shadow version of myself, someone who’s just trying to survive under her scrutiny, until she finally says something that makes me snap.
Mom stirs cream into her coffee like she has all the time in the world before she taps her spoon on her cup. “So, Leo, how has it been working with my daughter? Has she made you consider quitting yet?” Her tone is casual, but I know better. She’s poking, testing, looking for cracks.
“A few times,” he says, cracking a smile. “But it’s not her fault. I’m not graceful on the ice like her. She’s been more patient with me than I deserve. You should be proud of her.”
I blink, sliding my eyes to his. Proud of me? After all the fights we had at the start? All the times I wanted to kiss him senseless—and smack him in the same breath?
Working with him lately has been... surprisingly fun. His willingness to try anything my coach throws at him is impressive, and in return, he’s taught me how to improve my skating game, pushing me to do drills that make me faster and more nimble. My movements are sharper, my turns cleaner, my jumps more precise. Thanks to Leo, I’m learning to enjoy skating again.
There’s still no guarantee I’ll make the goals I’ve been training for, but part of me cares less about that now. Somehow, having Leo here puts everything into perspective. He showed me I’m homesick for a life I’m not living. A good, ordinary life. Everything about this man feels like sunshine to my parched soul.
“Well, I’m not sure a hockey player is good for much,” Mom says, “except paying my husband’s salary.”
Leo doesn’t say a word, but his jaw tightens for a second like he’s holding back—for me.
How does my dad put up with this? I can’t imagine living with someone who despises my career as much as my mom dislikes hockey. She’s always resented the travel, the roughness of the sport, and the time it took away from family. Instead, she threw herself into my career, especially since I was her youngest and her last chance to create a family legacy. Even though I have an older sister, she was never interested in skating like I was. I became Mom’s pride and joy, her miracle baby after two other miscarriages.
But somewhere along the way, her love became tied to my achievements. She didn’t want anyone to steal the spotlight she’d carefully curated for me. Especially not a man. And definitely not a hockey player.
Mom turns to me, her face all business. “Your coach says you’re making good progress, despite this little arrangement.” She waves her finger between Leo and me.
“Well, Dad thought it was a good plan,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Since he made the assignment.”
“Yes, well, I thought it might knock some sense into you,” she replies.
My hand grips Leo’s knee under the table. His hand finds mine, and he gives it a reassuring squeeze to let me know he’s here, he’s not leaving. My safety buddy has morphed into my emotional support buddy, here to get me through brunch with my mom.
“She was about to quit the sport,” Mom says to Leo, dropping the bomb without hesitation. “After her partner got injured, and everyone declined working with her. Her father thought a hockey player would be better than nothing.”
Leo’s eyes cut to mine. “You were going to quit?”
I hadn’t told him that part. Not because I was ashamed, but because it hurt too much to admit how close I’d come to giving up.
I’d wanted one last chance to prove I still had what it takes to make it to the top. But without a partner, it felt impossible. And then Leo showed up and gave me hope again.
“I thought Leo would be tougher on you,” Mom says. “That it would be good for your ‘poor me’ attitude.”
She thinks I was feeling sorry for myself? After I’d stumbled through multiple competitions, lost my partner to an injury, and couldn’t find anyone willing to train with me? The humiliation wasn’t a pity party—it was completely demoralizing.
“ Really, Mom?” I fire back because it’s the last straw. “Because I wasn’t in a good headspace, you thought I needed an attitude check ? I thought it was because you wanted me to come crawling back to you and Dad, begging for help.”
Mom laughs. “Oh, honey, why would I do that? You’ve already made yourself quite unhappy with your life choices.”
“Excuse me?” I say, frowning. “What life choices, exactly ? Because, for the record, I’m very happy with my life right now.”
She tilts her head and rests her chin on her folded hands, the picture of perfect calm. “Living in that wretched apartment complex, for one. You know your father would pay for something much nicer.”
“I know he would,” I say. “But I want to do things my way.”
If I let them pay for my apartment, it wouldn’t just come with strings—it’d come with full-blown expectations too. Attending parties with their socialite friends, smiling at their charity galas, rubbing shoulders with—and let’s be honest— dating the sons of their friends.
My life might seem small in comparison to what they want for me, but it’s mine .
“Besides,” I add, “I’ve met so many great people since I moved out.”
I think of Leo, Jaz, and Sloan, of the hockey players who’ve become like family, of Delilah and her spoiled bird. All the people who’ve shown me kindness and friendship, even when I haven’t always deserved it. I can’t put a price on that. It’s worth more than living in a comfortable place and playing it safe.
“Right now, your way won’t get you to Nationals,” she says, matter of fact.
“Is this why you wanted to take me out for breakfast?” I ask. “So you could remind me how I’m not going to make it to Nationals?”
“Of course not,” Mom says, holding her coffee cup. “It’s because I’ve got news. And I thought it would be best to tell you in person.”
“News?” My stomach twists as Leo’s hand tightens on my knee. The waiter arrives with our food, but I suddenly don’t feel hungry anymore.
“Well,” Mom begins, “did you hear about the skater Peter Petrosky? His partner recently cut ties with him, and he’s looking for someone new. He heard about your situation and reached out to Eugene about a trial training period to see if you’re a good fit.” Her eyes light up. “Isn’t that great?”
A few years ago, I would’ve jumped at the chance to skate with Peter. He’s talented—there’s no denying that. With him as my partner, Nationals wouldn’t just be a dream, it’s a strong possibility.
But then there’s the other side of Peter’s reputation—how driven he is and his relentless work ethic. Until now, I would’ve said the same about myself. But now I’m starting to wonder— is it all worth it? The long hours, the time away from the people I love, the price of trying to make it to the top. I’m not the same skater I was a few months ago. I’m starting to have new ideas about what a life without skating looks like, things that excite me and scare me in the same breath.
Mom studies me. “You don’t look as elated about this as I thought you’d be.”
I shake my head. “It’s good news, but...”
“But?” She sets her fork down. “There should be no but. He’s the best there is, and he’s willing to work with you. You should be extremely grateful .”
Here we go again—I’m the problem now. How dare I not be falling at my mother’s feet thanking her for this rare opportunity?
“But what about my previous partner?” I ask, thinking of poor Ben, still in physical therapy.
“Your old partner will find someone new. He’s holding you back with that injury.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Peter is one of the best pairs skaters there is.”
I shift uncomfortably. “But how did this happen? I don’t understand. Did he approach my coach?”
“Oh, you know how these things go,” she says vaguely, taking a bite of her eggs.
And that’s when it hits me— she arranged it. She probably pulled every string she could find so that I wouldn’t be tempted to stay with Leo. My parents have a way of making things happen because they’re puppet masters.
“Does Dad know about this?” I ask.
Mom doesn’t even look up from her plate. “He supports it,” she says, as if we’re discussing the weather. “In fact, he said if Peter comes through, Leo is off the hook with the rest of his probation.”
Leo glances at me before taking a bite of his biscuit. Hockey teams don’t drop punishments like this. This is almost too good to be true, which means it probably is.
Mom turns her attention to Leo with a faint, unsettling smile. “He said he’d talk to you about it later—something about changes to the arrangement.”
Her eyes gleam with something I can’t place. I’d like to believe it’s because Peter might be my new partner, but a sinking feeling in my stomach tells me there’s more to it. Some catch to the deal.
I set my fork down next to my plate. “Mom, I have news too,” I say, my voice steady. The calm I feel inside doesn’t match the storm brewing behind Mom’s expression, but I know this is the right thing to do. I’m done holding back, trying to keep the peace, no matter the cost. I’ve spent my whole life bending backward, giving up relationships, moving across the country for Dad’s career. Isn’t it time I finally have a say in what I want? “Just because I might have a new partner doesn’t mean Leo and I are going to stop seeing each other.”
She stops chewing and looks between me and Leo.
“I also received a sponsorship with Pro Ice Gear,” I add. “A big one—thanks to Leo.”
Her eyes dart to Leo, narrowing sharply. “So you think just because you got her a sponsorship you’re rescuing my daughter?”
Leo leans back in his chair, grinning in that maddeningly self-assured way of his. “Rescuing her? Not a chance. Your daughter is more than capable of carving out her own future—no help needed.” Then he drops his napkin on the table as my heart flutters. “But if she ever needs someone in her corner, I’ll be there, cheering her on every step of the way.”
Mom’s mouth opens, but no words come out, while I’m over here fighting the urge to grab him by the collar and kiss him senseless—because that was a mic drop moment I’ll never forget.
He tilts his head and looks at my mom. “Maybe I’m not good enough for you, but I know I’m good enough for her. I know what she likes. What makes her light up. And if you knew your daughter, you’d know those things too.”
Mom hesitates before her eyes zero in on Leo. “I know my daughter wants to go to Nationals. And that’s enough for me.” Then she turns to me. “If you choose him, he’ll never support you the way you need. His hockey career will always outshine yours. Everything you’ve worked for— down the drain . You don’t want to throw it all away for that.”
She thinks Leo is using me as a stepping stone for his career? Nothing could be further from the truth. He’s the one who’s helped me at every turn. Becoming my skating partner. Pretending to be my boyfriend because it would help my career. He even rescued Delilah’s bird, just because he knew I cared about my neighbor. He’s always put my dreams over his, but my mom can only see that he isn’t like us.
“Mom,” I say slowly, “Leo literally got me a sponsorship and agreed to be my partner to help my career. If anyone’s been doing the heavy lifting here, it’s him. Just because you’ve always resented Dad’s job doesn’t mean you get to project that disappointment onto my life.”
Her face flinches before her lips tighten into a firm line. “You know your father has a lot of say in this industry. Coaches can make or break a player’s career.”
It’s not a veiled threat—it’s a direct one, aimed at Leo.
“Well, thank goodness I’m already a hockey player.” Leo stands and takes my hand. “Let’s go, Vic.”
As we step away from the table, Mom says. “Leo, how is Tina doing?”
I turn around so fast the room spins. “What?”
Leo slowly faces my mother. “How do you know about her?”
Mom takes her time responding, dabbing her lips with a cloth napkin. “When we moved here, I made a few friends. Women whose husbands are well connected. You know how small-town people are. They know everyone’s business.”
Leo’s jaw clenches. “She’s fine,” he says cooly.
“Oh, interesting,” she says. “But you still support her financially?”
“Mom!” I say, my voice shrill enough to turn a few heads.
“What?” she says, innocently. “If he’s handing out money to someone who clearly needs help, then he’s supporting her habits. Stop looking at me like I’m the bad person here.”
She says it for half the diners to hear, and I can feel their eyes on us. This is classic Mom—using other people’s mistakes to make her feel superior. She’s always seen herself as the noble one who gave up everything for her family. For once, I feel sorry for her. She’s so caught up in her need for control that she can’t see the joy or goodness in anything—not even in Leo or me.
“Mom, he gave her money for a hotel room. That hardly qualifies as supporting a habit.” I step toward Mom and hold her gaze, refusing to let her words rattle me. “I can’t stand here and let you put down Leo or his family. I won’t allow it. No matter how much you want me to turn out like you, I’m not you. And it’s time for you to accept that.”
Then I turn and look up into Leo’s eyes and whisper, “I’m so sorry. Can we leave now?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” He takes my hand and kisses it before we stride out of the restaurant.
Before we reach Leo’s car, I stop in the middle of the parking lot as guilt barrels through me. What was I thinking, letting Leo walk right into the firing squad of my mother?
I cover my face with my hands. “Leo, I feel awful about this. I should’ve warned you.”
“Hey,” Leo whispers, stepping closer, pulling my hands away. His fingers cup my face gently, tilting my chin so I have no choice but to meet his eyes. “Those comments about my past used to sting, but they don’t anymore. You can’t let someone hurt you unless you give them power over you. You know that, right?”
He pulls me against his chest and rubs slow circles on my back.
“It’s still hard, especially because it’s you,” I say. “I’m used to handling her comments, but I can’t stand back and watch her pull the same dirty tricks on you.”
He leans back slightly, his hand stilling on my back as his eyes search mine. “Are you okay?”
“I am now,” I say softly, burying my nose in his shirt and breathing in his familiar scent.
“Just for the record, I was proud of you in the restaurant,” he murmurs against my head. “You stood up to your mom and told her the truth. It takes courage to do that.”
I shake my head. “I just had this sense of calm, like it was going to be okay no matter what she said. I think in the past I was so used to being afraid that if I lost my parents’ support, I’d lose everything, and it was paralyzing. But now, I’m in a different place.” I knot my hands in his shirt, feeling so lucky to have him in my life. “Do you still want to be with me, even though my family is a hot mess?”
Leo tips my chin up and holds my gaze. “Nothing your parents can say will change my decision to choose you.” Then he kisses my forehead gently. “There’s only one thing I ask.”
“What’s that?”
He pulls back just enough to search my face, his hands resting on my shoulders. “Now that your mom knows, I want the whole world to know. We may have faked it for Pro Ice Gear, but I’m done pretending. It’s exhausting. No more hiding. No more fake kisses for the cameras. I want my hands on you, my lips on you, and I don’t care who sees.”
The questions rack up in my brain like a multiple-car pileup. “Wait... so you want to announce this publicly? I mean, won’t the Pro Ice Gear commercial do that for us?”
He smiles softly. “I’m not talking about a big announcement. I mean, I don’t want to hide how I feel about you when we’re out in public. I want to tell everyone—my teammates, your skating coach, even your dad. I’ll stand on a table at Boots and Buckles and announce it, though I’m sure Sherrie’s going to give me a hard time.”
I laugh. “As long as I get a redo at trivia night.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “So you can beat me this time?”
“What can I say?” I shrug. “I need another excuse to kiss you.”
“You don’t need an excuse,” he says, shaking his head and grinning. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already won.”