Chapter 49 #2
I sit there, unable to stay still. Then I give up and just follow where Dylan walked through the doors. That’s when I see Kian jogging to him, holding his crutches in his hand. What the hell?
“Do you need these?” he asks frantically. “Fuck, man, you’re pale. I winced every time you jumped.”
Dylan mutters something low to him and he nods. But then Kian sees me. From the way he stands, it’s almost like he’s about to run.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn.
They both go completely still.
“Why aren’t you using your crutches? You said you got injured last night,” I ask.
Kian’s eyes widen, then he laughs awkwardly. “It’s a miracle! The Lord has blessed—”
“Stop,” Dylan cuts him off, and finally he turns to me. And Kian’s right. Dylan’s pale, and sweat covers his forehead. He’s never looked like this after a performance.
“What’s wrong?” I ask softly, taking his hands. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m injured,” he finally says. “Last night, it wasn’t Kian who got a sprain. It was me.”
My heart stops.
He’s hurt. Dylan’s hurt and he still skated a full program. Because of me. A tornado of emotions hits me, and my eyes sting so bad I have to blink.
“I’m okay,” he says immediately.
“You’re okay?” I pull away, yanking my hands out of his. “You look like you’re about to fall over!”
He cups my face. “Sierra, listen—”
“No,” I say. “Why didn’t you tell me? You should be resting right now.” Then I turn slowly to narrow my eyes at Kian. “You didn’t tell me either. What the hell, Kian?”
“I’m sorry!” he cries. “I wanted to! Ask him. I didn’t want to lie. He made me promise—”
Dylan turns me to him. “Sierra, I could have broken my fucking leg, and I’d still go out there and perform with you. You deserve this.”
“That’s not fair. I don’t care about the performance! I care about you.” My words tremble, caught on the edge of a sob.
“This feels like a personal moment,” Kian interjects.
We both glare at him.
Kian raises his hands in surrender. “Leaving!” He disappears down the hall.
Dylan focuses on me. “I would never let you lose this. You worked too hard.”
“So did you! It’s us or nothing, remember? Have I not made that clear?” I don’t even realize I’m crying until he wipes away a tear before it hits my cheek.
“This is important to you, and you’re important to me,” he says. “I always thought that nothing good lasts, but I don’t believe that anymore, Sierra. You’re the good, and I’d do everything I can to make sure everyone gets to see just how amazing you are.”
I shake my head. “You shouldn’t have done this. It could cause serious damage.”
“The look on your face after we got those scores? I’d do anything to see that.”
“What are you two doing?” Lidia’s voice echoes in the empty hall. “They’re calling your name. You’re first!”
I blink in shock, and Dylan only smiles like he already knew it. It’s so bright and genuine that I almost forget he’s standing on an injury.
“We’re not coming,” I tell her.
“What?!” Lidia shouts.
Dylan shakes his head. “We’ll be there in a second.”
Lidia’s still bewildered but she slowly backs away, uncertain.
“We’re leaving. Let’s go home,” I say, trying to pull him along.
He doesn’t move. “I love you, Sierra, and you know that I’d gladly do whatever you tell me to, but this isn’t one of those things. You made it all the way here because of your talent, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows that when they see you on that podium.”
My eyes blur. “I don’t need to go up there.”
He smiles. The smile he reserves just for me. “I know. But I want us to. You can yell at me all you want later.”
I give in, only because I know Dylan. If I don’t go up there, all the pain he just went through will be for nothing. Unless he sees me with that medal around my neck and those flowers, he won’t leave.
So we go, and everyone watches as he lifts me onto the first-place podium. My eyeliner is smudged, and he’s growing paler by the second, but the moment our names are announced together, Dylan leans down and kisses me so hard, I nearly burst.
“I’m so mad at you, but I love you,” I whisper. “I don’t think I tell you that enough.”
“Forty-seven,” he whispers back.
“What?”
“You’ve told me you love me forty-seven times today.”
I turn to look at him. “I did?”
“In all different kinds of ways.” He smiles, like this is a secret he’s kept, him counting my I love yous.
“Like when you kiss me, and you linger for a minute to kiss the scar by my lip. Or when you retrace the smiley faces on our palms. Or when you take your thumbs”—he takes my hands and moves my thumbs under his eyes; I run my fingers under there on instinct and he sighs happily—“and do that. Or when you tell me you love me, then show me exactly how much.”
My cheeks feel hot, and I look up at him like I’m going to burst at the seams.
“And when you look at me like that,” he adds. “I love you too, Sierra. And I hope I do tell you enough.”
Then he lays a whisper of a kiss on my hair, and suddenly everything feels right in the world. I feel like I’ve found a place where I can land safely. Forever.