Chapter 5
Isla
Ishould’ve deleted the Google alert on my name years ago, but the masochistic type-A in me wouldn’t allow it.
My eyes skim over the article again. Nothing is inaccurate, but the framing casts a shadow on me.
I’m used to this reporting, but I’m frustrated that this could hurt Spencer’s reputation and deter him from wanting to partner with me.
He made it clear that this is a trial run.
My “storied history” in the sport could make me more trouble than I’m worth.
And did they need to mention my divorce?
If North Carolina didn’t require a year of separation, I would’ve been free from Chip a long time ago.
We had a prenup in place, neither of us cheated on the other, and our lawyers handled negotiations.
I didn’t need to see or talk to Chip to dissolve our marriage, making it surprisingly painless to finalize after the obligatory waiting period.
The pain that lingers comes from being too fucking blind to see what eventually led to our downfall.
“Isla Covington,” a voice filled with sunshine interrupts my regret spiral.
I look up from my phone into the smiling face I’ve seen so often over the years—on the rink, magazine covers, and billboards.
He’s earned the attention based on his talent, but it also doesn’t hurt that he could model in his own right.
Spencer has an approachable attractiveness that tricks people into thinking he’s within reach, but all of us in the sport know the truth. He’s on a whole other level.
I shove my cell phone into my bag. “Spencer Davidson,” I reply. “It’s good to meet you.”
“We’ve met before. Shared a podium once or twice.”
“No, of course, I know,” I stutter. Less than five minutes. That’s all it took before sticking my foot into my mouth. “I meant as your partner. It’s good to meet you again and under these circumstances.”
Please, God, make it stop. I bite my lip, hoping that ends the word vomit.
Spencer’s smile grows brighter. “You’re nervous.”
I’ve never liked admitting weakness, but I swore that I would act differently with Spencer.
I suspected my last partner had feelings for me, but I ignored it, not wanting to rock the boat of our partnership.
Being in a relationship allowed me to tiptoe around the issue.
After my divorce, I had nothing to hide behind, and my refusal to address the issue head-on imploded our partnership.
“A little,” I begrudgingly admit.
“It’s a big deal, what we’re doing.”
My shoulders relax hearing his response, knowing I’m not alone in my cascade of nerves. “What you’re doing. You’re the one taking the risk,” I say, the words from the article still replaying in my mind. “You’re the golden boy.”
“You saw that article too?”
I nod.
He motions with his head toward the hallway, his short brown hair shifting with the movement.
“Let me give you a tour of the facility.” He starts walking across the hall toward a set of double doors, and I follow.
“You gotta tune them out. And if you can’t, then don’t go looking for their opinions.
And by ‘them,’ I mean anyone who isn’t you. ”
He pauses in front of another door and flashes me a boyish smile. “Or me, of course.”
“I’m used to ignoring the voices, but I didn’t know…” I trail off, not wanting to insult him.
But he reads me like a book. “You thought I might rethink my decision?”
He holds open the door for me. “This is the gym. We’ve got every exercise equipment you could need—treadmills, rowers, weights, pull-up bar.”
“You built all this?” Most skating rinks I’d been in had a gym, but this local one rivals some of the biggest facilities I’ve competed in.
“My brother,” Spencer corrects, leading us out of the room and down the hall.
“You’ll meet him later. Full kitchen is on the right, along with a small yoga-slash-meditation space on your left with some ballet barres as well.
My brother should use that room more, but he’s always in his office doing curmudgeon-y things.
He’s a good guy, just a Grumps MaGee from time to time. ”
He flings an arm out to the right toward a large tunnel.
“His office and locker rooms are down that hall, which also leads to the ice. And this”—a large room with three walls, one open to the hallway—“is where we can practice off-ice. Our coach will arrive next week. She’s home in the Netherlands, visiting family.
She’s been with me my whole career. A hardass, but fair. ”
I wander into the open room, dropping my bag in the corner. “We’ll probably butt heads.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He huffs a laugh as he trails me, depositing his bag beside mine. “So, you want to practice some lifts?”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Fair warning, it’s going to be an adjustment from your last partner.”
Spencer’s eyebrows raise. “What do you mean?”
I gesture to my body with a flick of my wrist. “I’m what, five inches taller than her? Twenty pounds heavier? Sebastian used to complain about the effort to lift me. You’re stronger and bigger than him, but—”
“That’s bullshit,” he says, some ire sneaking into his usually pleasant tone. “Come here.”
His hands land on my waist once I’m standing before him. “Ready, one, two, three,” he counts.
I bend at the knees, aiding him in bringing me into the air. Both hands remain on my waist as he lifts me straight overhead with a full extension of his arms.
“Your last partner didn’t know what he was talking about. There’s nothing difficult about lifting you.” He lowers me to the ground, staring meaningfully at me, eyebrows drawn together. “Okay?”
“Okay.” The whispered words are so unlike me, but I’m hit with an unexpected wave of emotion. “I’m ready to do whatever it takes,” I vow.
“I know. That’s half the reason I picked you.”
“What’s the other half?”
“Your fire.”
A laugh bursts from me. “Let’s see if you’re still saying that in a few weeks.”
We spend the next few hours together in the weight room, the yoga room, the off-ice practice space, and eventually the rink.
Most of our time is focused on conditioning and getting to know each other, talking about our styles and how we’d like to skate together.
I’m relieved to find that Spencer doesn’t rely on his raw talent or his years of success, that he wants to train as hard as me.
“All right, let’s call it for the day,” Spencer says as he skates toward the exit. Once I reach him, he pauses his walk to turn to me. “I think this is going to work out.”
I flash him a cheeky smile. “Well, I’d hope so. I just uprooted my entire life to move here.”
“I think it’ll be worth it, Isla.”
“Good,” I reply, nodding. “Me too.”
My career rests entirely in his hands, which makes Spencer Davidson the most important person in my life.
I will do everything in my power to be the partner he needs to succeed.