Chapter Four
“I’m so sorry to bother you, but my daughter is a skater and she absolutely loves you. She’s too scared to come over and ask
you herself. Would you mind . . .” The woman trailed off and held up her phone then pointed behind me.
I was a local celebrity around Woodspring, so getting recognized at the Eagle Diner wasn’t a surprise. Plus, I’d actually
put some effort into the way I looked considering the reason why I was sitting in the diner instead of training during the
rest of the world’s breakfast time. Most folks were more familiar with shined-up performance Quinn, which meant that my makeup-free
practice persona could often go undetected.
I glanced over my shoulder and spotted a little girl with dark-blond space buns peeking over the top of a booth a few feet
from where I was sitting. She ducked the second I caught her eye.
I smiled at the stranger. “Of course! What’s her name?”
“Addie. She’s shy.”
I turned completely around and the little girl dipped out of view again. “Hey, Addie, can you come over here for a sec? I
need your help with a really big decision.”
It was like saying her name erased her fears. She practically sprinted over and climbed into the booth next to me.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Addie and I’m six.”
She was an adorable scrap of a girl, with big blue eyes that seemed to take in everything.
“Wow, you’re six?” I asked. “That’s how old I was when I started skating!”
“We just began private lessons,” her mom said proudly. “They say she’s showing real promise.”
My chest tightened a little at the reveal—thrilled that a young skater had found her calling, and terrified about what the
machine could do to the magical little creature sitting beside me. Did her mother take away her stack of pancakes before she
could finish? Was she already missing birthday parties because of weekend practice?
“If you’re such a good skater already it means you know how important it is to have the best gear out on the ice, right?”
I asked.
Addie nodded solemnly.
“I need to get some new leg warmers for practice because my favorite pair is falling apart. I can’t decide between these two
colors, so can you help me make up my mind?” I grabbed my phone and navigated to the photos. “There’s this pink tie-dye pair
I like.”
Which was a lie, but I knew my usual basic black wouldn’t fly based on her glittery rainbow hair ties.
“Or this pair with the sparkly snowflakes on top.” The gray knit pair I showed her was closer to what I normally wore.
“Pink,” she replied, as predicted.
“Pink it is! Thanks for your help, I couldn’t have made such a big decision without you.”
I made a mental note to suck it up and buy them, so I could wear them on the show during on-ice segments. I knew how excited she’d be to spot me on TV in the leggings she picked.
“Honey, we need to leave Miss Quinn alone now,” the woman coaxed. “I’m sure she has lots to do today. Can we get a quick photo,
though?”
“Of course! Bring it in, Addie.” I opened my arms to her.
We were now besties, so the little girl snuggled up against me and pressed her cheek to mine, beaming.
“Aw, that’s a good one,” the woman said when she glanced at the image. She held her phone out to show me. “You look like twins!”
My throat caught when I saw the photo. It did indeed look like I was hugging the childhood version of myself. My hair had
been the same color as Addie’s until my mom decided that I’d be more memorable as an icy blonde, We’d started coloring it
when I was twelve.
I was surprised at my almost feral urge to protect this little stranger. She’d already been pulled into the “beginner with
raw talent” current, so I had to toss out a lifeline.
“Addie, I want you to make me a promise, okay?” I said to her as she started to slide off the bench.
She paused to nod solemnly at me, eyes wide.
“Make sure that you always have fun skating. And when it’s not fun, remember that it’s okay to take a little break.”
It was a risky bit of advice if she had a limelight-starved parent like mine. If I could do anything for the next generation
of skaters it would be to make them remember the feelings that got them on the ice in the first place, before the politics
and deprivation could steal the joy from it. I now knew firsthand that it was possible to find balance in the sport, but I
felt like the exception.
Addie nodded as if she understood, but my message wasn’t just for her.
“Thank you so much, Quinn,” the woman said. Her broad smile signaled that she was in fangirl mode and couldn’t process what I was saying. “Good luck in Italy! We’ll be watching every second of it.”
“Thank you.” I smiled back at her. “And good luck to you, Miss Addie.”
She was too busy pirouetting back to her booth to hear me.
I watched the two of them fuss with each other once they were both seated again, so wrapped up in trying to gauge their dynamic
that I forgot to be vigilant about scanning the parking lot. I glanced out the window to watch for the most obnoxious rental
car one could get from Hertz.
“Hey, you.”
I jumped at the sound of the voice. Damn it, he’d managed to sneak in without me seeing.
Ben slid in the booth across from me. He smiled, and every little thing I’d worried about bubbled up to the surface.
The most annoying?
That despite everything, I still wasn’t immune to him.
Bennett Martino was one of those people who probably came out of the womb with a spotlight on him. He had an aura that went
way beyond his looks, which meant that it didn’t matter if people knew who he was or not, he was still going to attract attention.
He vibrated at a different frequency, especially when he had eyes on him. I’d had a front-row seat to his media-savvy side,
but I’d also been lucky enough to meet the real Ben.
For one night, at least.
I hadn’t seen him in person since the last Games, and the years had woven a couple of strands of gray in the dark hair at his temples.
The gap between us felt even wider when I spied the beginnings of crinkles in the corner of his eyes.
He was only nine years older, but it felt like he had an entire lifetime on me.
Ben had one of the most expressive faces I’d ever seen, even when he was just sitting still and staring at me. His thick eyebrows
had a life of their own, which meant they telegraphed how he was truly feeling at any moment, despite all the media training
he’d been through. They were almost as hypnotic as his black-brown eyes, which never strayed from your face when he was talking
to you. He came across as so damn likable, a mix of mischief and focus that guaranteed a good time.
“Miss Quinn Albright. It’s been too long,” Ben said. He tipped his head winningly, like I’d be as powerless as the rest of
the world when he unleashed the charm. “Really good to see you.”
It took all my emotional-regulation practice to keep from freaking the fuck out at him for implying that we were just old
friends catching up.
I glanced around the restaurant to make sure no one was close before speaking. “You’re a fucking asshole. Do you know that?”
He jerked his head back, but I could tell he wasn’t shocked. “Whoa. We’re going there already?”
“Do you think I asked to meet you just to hang out?” I hissed, because I noticed that Addie and her mom were now watching
the gold medal speed skater and the Olympic hopeful trying to play nice. “I have some things I need to say before I pretend
to tolerate you for the next week.”
The teenage waitress sidled up to our table despite not even stopping by to refill my coffee as I’d waited for Ben.
“Ohmygod, hi, Ben!” She gave him a little wave. “Total stan here.”
“Aw, thank you,” he beamed at her. “If you’re a skating fan then I’m guessing you must like this one too?” He pointed at me.
It was just like him to share the spotlight as a way to try to make nice with me.
“Of course, who doesn’t love the Swan?” she replied, glancing at me for two seconds then back at Ben. “I already fangirled over Quinn
when she got here. So what are you two doing together? Like, a collab or something?”
He adjusted himself to take up more space in the booth, kicking one leg up and draping his arm over the back of the bench.
“You could say that. Stay tuned.”
He winked at her and she immediately blushed and turned on her heel. She stopped herself after four steps and jogged back
to us.
“Duh, I’m sorry, can I get you coffee? And do you need a menu?”
“Definitely,” Ben replied with a winning smile. “One of us needs more than egg whites for breakfast.”
“Because one of us is still competing,” I added in a saccharine voice. “You haven’t been back out on the ice in how long, Ben?”
He winced ever so slightly, and I knew my stinger had found its target.
“Not in a while. I’ve been too busy expanding my empire. Which is what brings me to Woodspring to meet with this one.”
The waitress’s eyes jumped between us. “Oh wow, this is so exciting! Can I get a picture with you guys before you go?”
“Of course,” Ben answered for me.
We both knew that a photo of the two of us together would crank the rumor mill into high gear. The single dim photo with us
clinched in the background behind the downhill team on that fateful night had been enough to send the internet into two days’
worth of speculation about what exactly was going on between us.
Which was absolutely nothing, thanks to Ben.
And then there was the black-and-white photo that I’d posted in the desperate weeks after we got home as a bat signal for him. A reminder of what we’d shared. I’d only left it
up for a few hours before mortification had set in and I deleted it, but by that time the post had already racked up eight
thousand likes and a couple of hundred comments that said some variation of “Is that Ben?????”
I pretended that I had plausible deniability on my side since you couldn’t see his face in the shot, but our joined hands
with his ankle tattoo blurry in the background definitely told a story.
“I’ll be back with some coffee in a minute,” the waitress said, eyes still on him.
“And a menu,” he reminded her with his toothpaste-ad smile.
“Right, a menu.”
Ben and I leaned back against the bench simultaneously, like we both wanted to keep some distance between us. It was hard
for me to believe that he thought he could waltz back into my life and I’d be fine with it.
“So, is this like a peace summit, or . . .” he trailed off.
“No, this is an ‘air my grievances so I don’t murder you’ talk. I have plenty I need to say to you, and if you’re not willing
to hear it I suggest you crawl back to your producers and tell them exactly why I’m refusing to do the show.”
His face went white. “Whoa, whoa, hold on. This is happening, Quinn. Everything’s confirmed. The rest of the crew arrives
tomorrow.”
I shrugged a shoulder and felt delightfully petty.
“Yes, but you know firsthand how critical it is for me to stay focused right now. I mean, what if I get so worried about you guys interrupting my training schedule that I accidentally injure myself during practice tomorrow?” I widened my eyes and held my hand over my heart.
“Oh my goodness, no one would question me pulling out if that happened, right? And what’s crazy is that all of a sudden my knee’s feeling a little
wonky.” I rubbed it and grimaced like I wanted people in the cheap seats to see the show. “Who knows what might go wrong.
Can’t you just picture how terrible that would be for you?”
“You wouldn’t.”
The naked fear in his voice tickled me.
I shrugged again.
Ben scooted closer and leaned closer across the table. “You don’t understand. It has to happen. We’re doing this.”
“We?”
“Damn straight,” he replied. I could tell he was aiming for levity but it came off a little nervous.
Something in his expression snagged me. Despite all our baggage I was still a sucker for a hard-luck story. “Why?”
He glanced around, looked down at his hands, then finally back at me. “I actually need this gig.”
“Okay, well, you’re here. You’ve obviously already got it.”
He shook his head. “I don’t,” he said softly. “This is a conditional hire, based on how Italy turns out. And your piece. I’ve
done some spotlight interviews for them and it’s a big deal that they gave me an assignment this big as a final trial. I’ve
obviously, uh, gone through some dicey scenarios over the past few years. That means the producers aren’t sure they can trust
me.”
I love how he spun his bad decision-making as something that happened to him, like unexpected speed bumps in the road.
“So . . . yeah,” Ben continued, “I need everything to be perfect. I’ll beg if I have to. Please, Quinn.”
He clasped his hands under his chin.
I’d suspected that I had a little leverage in the scenario but I never imagined that I was driving the whole damn tow truck. Rather than putting him out of his misery I let him dangle for a bit.
I didn’t respond until I was convinced that he was suitably stressed out.
“If that’s the case, you need to shut up and listen,” I gloated.