Chapter Twenty-Nine
“The library is so much better than the conference room,” Hailey assured me as I followed her to where they’d set up for the final interview.
“You’re gonna love it.”
Thanks to the storm it felt like we had the run of the whole inn. We knew there were other people staying as well but it seemed
like everyone was opting for cozy vibes in bed instead of acting like it was a regular day. The snow had done its thing, blanketing
the region in white overnight and forcing everyone to slow down, at least for a couple of hours until the plows could come
through. But it was a temporary break, because the sun was already trying to cut through the gray skies.
We’d all be on our way soon enough, and it felt bittersweet, like we’d trauma-bonded through the ups and downs of our time
together. Plus, I was now very invested in Neil and Hailey’s top-secret affair. I’d liked Hailey from the jump, and Neil had grown on me, because any man
open to constructive criticism couldn’t be all bad.
She pushed the door to the library open and when I walked in it felt like there was a chance I’d run into a hobbit.
“Wow.”
“Right?” Hailey walked backward in front of me like a TV realtor. “It’s perfect.”
It was, from the moss-green walls, to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, to the fire glowing in the hearth. The big circular
window that looked out on the fields behind the inn certified it as the coziest room ever.
The two chairs with box lights shining down on them were a jarring centerpiece, but they were the reason we were in the space.
Neil walked through a door on the opposite side of the room carrying equipment. “Does this room work?”
“I never want to leave,” I replied.
For a second I considered how it would feel to waste a day in the window seat, reading, daydreaming, and drinking hot chocolate.
I couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like.
“Let me get you mic’d up,” Hailey said as she moved toward the setup. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”
Probably because I’d had the most restorative rest of my life, nestled in Ben’s arms until the sun came up. There was zero
awkwardness when we woke up because we’d both slept soundly enough to miss the first alarm he’d set and had to speed through
a goodbye, since we needed to get ready.
“Thank you. I have another sweater if this one doesn’t read well in the room.” I plucked at my pale-blue V-neck. “And is my
makeup okay?” I turned so the box light was shining on my face.
Neil stopped fussing with wires to lean in next to Hailey and study me.
“Hails and I agree that you’re basically the most stunning human being we’ve ever seen in real life,” he replied, like it
was a fact that he was corroborating.
“That’s his way of saying that this,” she waved her hand in front of my face, “is working. You look amazing.”
“Thank you,” I said softly.
She unwound the wires from the mic battery pack and handed it to me. “And don’t worry about the interview. You’ve probably
already picked up on it, but Ben is shockingly good at this, despite not having a background in journalism. Some people just
have a knack, you know?”
Yeah, I did, because it seemed like Ben could do anything he set his mind to. If I hadn’t learned to appreciate him it would’ve
been annoying.
I paused. “Appreciate” wasn’t the right word at all. No, now the way I felt about Ben was something much bigger, a feeling
that I couldn’t wrap my brain around to define.
“Hey, friends, good morning.”
The three of us turned in unison to see Ben standing in the doorway.
“Okay, look at you,” Hailey said with obvious admiration, pausing her mic’ing efforts. “I didn’t think it was possible for
you to level up, but somehow you managed it.”
For the first time since he’d forced his way back in my life I actually allowed my heart to jig at the sight of Ben. I welcomed
the butterflies swarming my belly. Our agreement was unchanged, even with the Blizzard Clause, but deep down I was nurturing
tiny embers of hope that once we were on the other side of Italy, both victorious in our own ways, we’d find our way back
to one another.
Ben looked . . . the only word I could come up with to describe it was more. More handsome, more professional, more smiley, more welcoming, more perfect than I ever thought he could be. It took real
effort for me not to walk over to him and force myself into his arms.
He came over and cupped my elbow, the safest body part to touch in public. “You feeling okay? Sleep good?”
I gave him a secret smile.
“I did, actually. The beds in this place are so comfortable.”
Our eyes caught, and I wondered if what we were saying without words was as obvious as it felt.
“Hey, Ben, do you want to come check out the angles?” Neil asked, pointing to the cameras. “One is pointed at Quinn’s chair
and two is on you.”
It was another small acknowledgment that Ben wasn’t just a talking head for the piece.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he replied as he headed over to Neil.
They had a conversation filled with words I didn’t understand, and before I knew it he was mic’ed up as well and we were ready
to go.
I waited for the flood of nerves to wash over me as Ben settled in the chair across from me, but all I felt was comfortable.
And shockingly happy.
I finally believed that my story was safe in Ben’s capable hands.
“Okay, people, let’s do this,” Ben said. “We all have planes to catch in a few hours.”
My heart sank as I realized that this time I’d be flying alone. “Is everything on time?”
“Yeah,” Hailey said. “We’ll be good to go by this afternoon, and you’ll be back on track without us pestering you.”
“Next stop, Milan,” Neil added as he adjusted the lights. “Okay, I’m ready if you folks are. Can you slate, Ben?”
And we were off and running.
Ben slapped the clapperboard, took a moment to find his on-camera persona, and turned the full power of his incandescence
on me.
“Quinn, tell me what you love about your sport.”
The little smile, the fixed gaze, the warmth in his tone . . . every bit of it unbalanced me, but in a good way. I now knew
that I could let go and not feel like I needed to be on guard.
I met his smile with my own because he’d started with a softball question. “What do I love about figure skating?”
My usual sound bite was right there, but I pivoted, because I wanted to give Ben my real feelings, not the same tired lines about the beauty of the sport
that I’d been spitting out for years.
“I love the power of it,” I replied. “People view us like these delicate little dolls, but we’re hardcore athletes who are
just as strong as we are graceful. We’ve got the endurance of a long-distance runner, and the strength of a weight lifter.
Think about it—we defy gravity and fling our bodies through the air over and over, then land on a sliver of metal. On ice. It requires endurance and coordination unlike any other sport.”
“Agreed,” Ben said. “I’ve been skating my entire life but you’ve seen my sorry attempts at jumps.”
Had that moment with Nate just been a few days ago? It felt like we’d been one another’s shadow for way longer, in the best
possible way.
“That’s what I’m talking about. It’s an art, but it’s also a literal science. Rotational speed, friction, gravity, force of
impact . . . there’s a lot of math that goes into those pretty spins.”
“Which you’ve mastered,” Ben said with a nod. “You’re basically Michael Jordan on ice.”
I laughed at the unexpected comparison. “You think so? That’s a first.”
“I mean it,” he insisted, shifting closer in his seat. “When you jump, you hover before landing. Gravity doesn’t apply to you while you’re spinning. It’s like you’ve co-opted Jordan’s hang time. I haven’t seen any other skaters do it quite like you. It’s beautiful.”
Warmth spread in my chest. “Thank you. That might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”
“How do you make that happen? What are the mechanics of flying the way you do?” Ben asked.
“Falling a ton at first,” I laughed as I admitted it. “I like to call it ‘falling to learn.’”
Ben tipped his head. “What does that mean?”
“Every time I fell as I tried to master a new move, I learned something. You know, like, maybe my arms weren’t pulled in tightly
enough. Or maybe my takeoff was wonky. Each fall was an opportunity to dissect my mistakes, and then try it again without
making them. Mel is great at zeroing in on what went wrong, and helping me figure out how to make it right.”
“That’s your coach, Melanie Kolakowski. Let’s talk about your partnership.”
“Mel,” I shook my head, smiling. “She’s the absolute best. We’ve accomplished so much since we started working together. It
sounds cheesy, but I never thought a coach–athlete relationship could be like this. I, uh, wasn’t always lucky enough to have
the kind of support I get from Mel.”
I knew exactly what I was opening myself up to by alluding to Carol. I’d never wanted to go there in prior interviews, but
I felt safe with Ben. And I wanted to shine a light on what many young skaters often go through by sharing some of my story.
“What do you mean by that?” Ben probed gently, giving me the space to reverse if necessary.
I looked down at my clasped hands. “I was subjected to a fairly traditional training regime, starting at a very young age. There’s a precedent for rigorous training that borders on abuse because it works.
The podium has seen plenty of broken little girls who were taught to skate through their pain. To practice every day on
an empty stomach, with just a sip of water to sustain them. It was all I knew for the longest time, so it was normalized for
me. And hey, most of my friends were going through the same thing, so suck it up and skate, right? Pain fades eventually,
but gold is forever.”
“Ouch,” Ben said softly.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “And what kills me is that the oversight just isn’t there, you know?” I started to say more but shut
my mouth. As much as I wanted to throw a match at the governing organizations that looked the other way when athletes were
hurting, now wasn’t the time.
Ben picked up on my abrupt stop. “Is it safe to say that working with Coach Mel helped you rediscover your love of skating?”
Another flirtation with my past, without coming out and addressing my crash and burn.
“Oh, I never stopped loving it. Even during the tough times,” I allowed. “I belong on the ice, but I definitely needed to
find another way to feel at home there. Things got really bleak, as I’m sure you know. As everyone knows.” I huffed out a hollow laugh.
His face went tight as he nodded. “But your focus is on the future. On Italy. How are you feeling about your chances?”
I wanted to jump out of my chair and kiss him on the mouth. He’d allowed me to hint at my difficulties without probing for
more.
“I feel stronger than ever,” I said, sitting up straighter. “I adore my programs.”
“And how are you feeling about your competition? Ayumi? Beatrix?”
“Oh, they’re amazing skaters. I love both of them. I respect their talent. But I don’t focus on what everyone else is doing, you know? I’m all
about bringing my best to the ice. Obsessing about other people shifts my focus.”
I saw something flicker across his face. It’s what we’d both been insisting since the first morning at Eagle Diner.
“Speaking of focus, there’s been plenty of attention on your skates. Those black skates and blades. Women have skated in white skates basically forever and men in black, so why are you bucking
tradition?”
“Who decided that men get to wear black and women have to wear white?” I demanded. “White skates are easier to scuff up, so
why would I opt for them over black, which stay looking good basically forever? It’s a silly tradition that means absolutely
nothing and I’m not going to be forced to adhere to it without a good reason. I like the way black looks, and I don’t think
that wearing white solely because ‘that’s the way it’s always been’ is enough of a reason to do so.”
“Bold stance,” Ben said with an approving nod. “But I guess that’s how you roll these days, right?”
“I’m glad you noticed,” I laughed.
“Oh trust me, it’s hard to miss.”
We shared a moment that all the world would see, but somehow it felt like it was just for the two of us.