Epilogue
One Year Later
“Feels like old times,” Neil crowed as he worked on the camera setup.
Hailey was a few feet behind him with her arms crossed, staring at a monitor. “Um, I think we need a little more negative
space to the right of Quinn. Can you come check the blocking, Ben?”
He was already in position in a chair across for me, looking at pages of notes. “I trust you guys. You know what you’re doing,
fight it out like the old married couple you are.”
“Engaged,” she corrected, holding up her left hand. “And we don’t fight, we disagree loudly.”
I laughed. Nothing had changed but everything had.
We’d set up the master interview in the front room of our Brooklyn brownstone, but we’d already shot plenty of footage for
the show. They’d captured me giving a speech in front of a five-hundred-person audience, and we’d shot some walk-and-talk
footage on the street, as well as a brief segment on the ice, because you simply cannot have two Olympic skating athletes
and not film them performing their sport.
Or at least that’s what Ben had insisted. It was his show, so we did things his way.
And now that he’d landed a program on CineBinge’s primary competitor StreamPlay, it meant that he had a budget to hire more
people, which was why Hailey could boss Neil around while two other employees worried about the lights and sound.
“Okay, so just to give you a heads-up, I’m going to go into how you got the idea for the youth foundation, some of the pushback
you’ve gotten from the skating committees, how you vet the mental health professionals you work with, and who’s involved in
your mentor program.”
“And the camp?” I asked.
He nodded. “Of course. You think I’m going to miss the chance to mention my role in your foundation? Come on. I guarantee I’m going to be everyone’s favorite counselor.”
Stereotypical Ben still reared his head every so often.
The idea for the foundation had come to me in a dream shortly before I’d left Colorado. The endorsement deals that paid bank
but did nothing for my soul kick-started the formation of the group, and thanks to a team of like-minded former skaters and
coaches who wanted to be a part of it, the whole thing had taken off super quickly. We were united under one goal: giving
young athletes the tools to navigate their sport without losing themselves to it, or to the coaches still clinging to outdated
methods, who valued winning over health.
We were already starting to make an impact.
The first episode of Ben’s show had set the tone for everything he wanted to do with the series.
In stark black and white, he’d faced down the camera and talked about his struggles with depression for the first time, and then cut to athlete after athlete who’d dealt with their own versions of Gold Medal Syndrome in the hope that their openness about their struggles could help others.
It was a vulnerable and powerful episode that was destined to win some sort of award.
But of course, winning was no longer the sole goal.
The Comeback had been on the air for three months, but it was the first time he was interviewing me since our time before the Games. He
was different now. Still observant and insightful, but clearly the bossman who was worried about so much beyond what happened
on-screen.
I’d done plenty of interviews since ours for The Score. No one came close to how Ben had made me feel when I was his subject.
Okay, maybe the whole secretly being in love with each other stuff played a part in my feelings, but it was more than that.
I watched Ben study the papers clutched in his hand and felt my heart flooding with love for him. Of all the gifts he’d given
me, the one I treasured above everything was the understanding that he would always, always look out for me. He’d proved it in so many ways, and after a lifetime of feeling like it was me against the world, Ben had
shown me that I wasn’t alone.
But it was a two-way street. He knew that he had a fighter in his corner who could see through the mask he wore when he was
hurting. If his black dog ever returned it would have to get through his guard dog first.
“What?” Ben asked when he looked up from his papers, his lips twitching into a smile. “You’re staring.”
“Just thinking,” I smiled back.
“Nervous?” He pointed at the cameras and equipment around us.
“Please.” I laughed in his face. Being interviewed by him felt like going home and he knew it.
He stood up, cupped my chin, and gave me a quick kiss.
“Good, because we’ve got this, Albright.”
We.
It was such a little word, but it signified so much.
We.
A promise that he’d always be my teammate.
We.
A reminder that our new agreement, the one that actually counted, meant forever.