Chapter Eight
“Why bother? The cameras aren’t here,” I said to Ben.
Plus I had zero desire to spend any more time with him than necessary. Mel and Sarah picked up on my vibe and quickly packed
their things and left us alone.
“I thought it would be fun,” he shrugged.
“If that’s the case we definitely should save it.”
“Are you saying we can’t have fun off camera?”
I pursed my lips and glared at him. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Have you forgotten everything we talked about yesterday?”
“Yup, got it.” He stood up and walked to the edge of the ice. “You can do what you want, but I’m skating. I don’t get the
opportunity much these days. I feel like an addict staring at a pile of cocaine. I need this.”
I watched him pause at the edge then step onto the ice one foot at a time, deliberately, like he was a newbie afraid of slipping.
“Home at last,” he sighed as he glided away from me.
I debated grabbing my stuff and leaving. There was no point in hanging out with him any longer, and I needed to stick to my
daily routine.
Then he turned and beckoned me, smiling that irresistible smile as he did effortless backward crossovers.
Damn it. I couldn’t be a total dick to him, especially since it looked like a few skaters had recognized him and were watching
us.
“Fine,” I said to myself with a sigh.
I caught up and fell in line beside him. We slid into a natural rhythm, like pairs skaters.
“I like this rink,” he gestured around it. “It’s homey.”
“Is that a compliment?” I asked, preemptively offended on behalf of my turf. “Because it doesn’t sound like one.”
Ben used to train at a state-of-the-art arena in Utah that had every amenity, on-ice and off. While my arena was more advanced
than a basic neighborhood rink, it certainly wasn’t the Olympic proving ground that he was used to, with a full gym, video
analytics lab, dance studio, and rehab center all on-site.
“Definitely a compliment,” he nodded. “There’s community here. A rink like this is where the journey begins for a lot of these
kids. They have this vague idea that skating is fun. Combine that with natural talent and they’re off.”
I didn’t have to ask if that was how it happened for him because I already knew his entire backstory, like the rest of the
country. An art dealer father and opera singer mother from California who had no background in sports, but recognized and
supported Ben’s drive. His move to the Utah facility at thirteen, and then his ridiculous winning streak.
“Listen, I wanted to talk about something with you, before the rest of the team get here,” Ben said.
I could feel him watching me. “When your mom confirmed everything, she obviously green-lighted the home visit and gave us a bunch of dates that work for them. Now, I know that’s going to be a challenging part of the—”
“Nope.” I shook my head vigorously as I interrupted him. “I have zero time to fly home. Every minute between now and when
I leave is accounted for. Doing this interview is enough of a distraction.”
“Yeah, when Kim asked me about going to Connecticut I tried going to bat for you, because I had a feeling you wouldn’t want
to do it based on everything you told me in Switzerland. I couldn’t come out and give Kim the full story, so I was stuck.
I tried coming up with excuses for why it won’t work, but it turns out your mom has an ace up her sleeve to get you home.”
“I’d love to see her try it,” I said and fumed at her overreach. I picked up speed, so that Ben had to do the same to keep
up with me. “There is absolutely nothing that I need in Connecticut.”
Ben did a quick turn to skate backward in front of me, expertly weaving through the two tween girls hovering nearby with just
inches to spare.
“She asked me to tell you. Your driver’s license is going to expire while you’re in Italy, and you’re still registered in
Connecticut.”
I sputtered for a few seconds. “How do you . . . how does she . . .”
But I didn’t have to ask how my mom knew when my license expired because she used to micromanage every aspect of my life.
What shocked me is that I’d let it slip through the cracks in the time since I’d gained control.
“I’ll renew online,” I said. I skated a little faster still.
“Can’t,” Ben replied, still gracefully navigating his way backward through the other skaters. “She said that you need to have
a new photo taken. You could probably move your primary residence to Colorado to avoid the trip back, but that opens up other
challenges.”
I hated to admit that there were tax implications for me having my family home still listed as my primary residence. I’d untangled as much as I could four years prior, but there were still elements that tied me to my parents.
“I have my passport.”
“You need two valid forms of ID at Olympic Village. Security is tight as hell,” Ben replied, sounding apologetic.
“Fuck,” I muttered as reality sunk in.
“Honestly, it might help to have us with you as backup, if you have to go,” Ben suggested. “I can run front for you.”
He had a point. My spotlight-obsessed mom would probably focus all her energy on looking perfect for the camera instead of
criticizing me. My dad would just show up and be country club charming, as usual.
“This is the last thing I need.”
“I know,” Ben agreed. “It sucks, but think about how shitty it would’ve been if you’d gotten to a checkpoint and discovered
it was expired then?”
“Yeah, thanks, Mom,” I said wryly.
My stomach twisted at this latest addition to my schedule. I felt like the control I so desperately needed was slipping away
at the worst possible time.
“When?” I demanded.
“Kim is working on the exact timing with her, but it looks like it’ll be two weeks from now.”
There was no good time to go home, but doing it so close to my departure was downright criminal.
Ben fell in line beside me again. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. I’d already given him plenty of access to my dumpster fire backstory; there was no need to add more kindling.
From this point on I was all sound bites, all the time.
They might think I’d granted The Score an all-access pass to my life, but I was pretty good at micromanaging as well.
First step? Redirecting the conversation.
“How do you feel?” I asked, pointing to Ben’s feet.
I knew I had an advantage over him since he wasn’t in his native skates, and I wanted to hear the many ways he felt hobbled
without them.
“It’s always an adjustment when I go back to these. They don’t feel natural to me. But I bet I can do some of the stuff you
do wearing them.”
There was no end to Ben’s confidence.
“Oh, you think so? Please grace me with your figure-skating skills.”
“I’m sorry, did you say jump?”
Ben paused then did the tiniest, shakiest waltz jump ever executed in the Greater Woodspring Skating Arena. I managed not
to laugh at him, until he finished with a graceless, stiff-armed pose.
“Sad.” I shook my head.
“Okay, watch this.”
He attempted it again and managed to get a little more air, but nearly fell when he landed it.
“It’s your arms,” a little voice echoed out.
We both turned to find a young boy nearby, watching us with his hands on his hips and the furrowed expression of someone who’d
been coaching newbies for thirty years. I recognized him as a promising ten-year-old figure skater named Nathan who’d been
putting in plenty of hours at the rink with a private coach.
“Oh yeah?” Ben asked him. “What should I be doing instead?”
“Arms out for balance, like this.”
The boy executed a flawless jump and we both broke into spontaneous applause.
“Now you,” he said to Ben. “Don’t be afraid, you just have to believe in yourself.”
“Great advice. I’ll do my best.” He grinned as he shot me a look.
Ben paused, skated a few steps, then managed to get air and land without wobbling.
“See? You’re a natural,” the boy said proudly. “Just keep practicing and you’ll get even better.”
Ben hid a laugh. “Well, thanks. I sure will.”
“Hold on . . .” the boy said, eyeing Ben as he skated closer. “I know you.”
I expected Ben to whip off his hat with a flourish, but he waited quietly for the boy to continue.
“You’re Magic Martino! Oh my god,” he cried after a few more seconds of staring at Ben.
Ben laughed. “I am. What’s your name?”
“Nate,” he answered in an awed voice. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
“In the flesh,” Ben said.
I rolled my eyes.
“Can you show me some speed-skating stuff? Please?” Nate asked excitedly. “My coach isn’t here yet, I have time.”
“Heck yeah, let’s do it. Quinn, you want to stay for a lesson?”
I frowned at him from behind Nate. “Hard pass.”
“Okay, I’ll text you when Neil and Hailey get here and we can finalize the flow of the rest of the week. I think Mel and Kim
have worked out a rough game plan.”
“Might be nice if you looped me in,” I grumbled.
Ben skated closer to me. “We thought it would be best to work around your current schedule and slot us in wherever it’s least annoying. Don’t worry, you can swap out anything you don’t like.”
“Oh trust me, I will.”
Nate was swiveling between us with wide eyes because it probably seemed like I was being mean to his hero. I faked a smile
for his benefit.
“Nate, have fun and be careful, okay? This guy likes to go really fast.” I pointed at Ben, and he winked at me in response.
“I know,” Nate replied, still awestruck. “Me too.”
I skated back to the players’ box to grab my things then headed for the locker room. Zoey was on her way out.
“Aren’t you supposed to be lifting right now?” she asked me.
We knew each other’s schedules by heart.
“I’ll give you one guess why I’m just finishing up,” I smirked.
Zoey brightened despite my negative tone. “He’s here? Still?”
“Oh yes, giving a speed-skating lesson to an admirer. Do you know Nate?”
“Of course, he’s the cutest. And a real daredevil.” She paused. “Ben’s working with him? I can guarantee that means he’s going
to switch sports now.”
I’d never considered that what was unfolding on the ice could redirect a young skater’s entire career. Getting a free lesson
from a three-time Olympian would probably rewire Nate’s brain, and before long he’d be less worried about his jump height
and more focused on speed-induced adrenaline.
“Would it be weird if I introduced myself to Ben?” Zoey asked.
“Not at all. Just remember whose team you’re on,” I joked, but not really.
Because I knew firsthand that no one was immune to the many charms of Magic Martino.