Chapter 35
EMMIE
“You’ve been moping for almost a week now.” Erin stood at the end of my bed, arms crossed, face stern. This was her fifth attempt to get me up, and judging from the look on her face, she’d accomplish it whether I liked it or not.
“So?” I mumbled under my covers. I didn’t want to leave this bed and face the outside world. I didn't want to face the fact I ruined something so amazing.
“Em, it's been five days. You need to shower and eat something more acceptable than cookie dough.”
I huffed. “Cookie dough is very nutritious.”
Marcy would kill me if she knew all I’d done was lie in bed or on the couch while eating junk food. Granted, I had over a month until worlds but still.
“I can agree with you on that. But babe, lying here and sulking isn’t helping anything,” Erin reasoned.
I popped my head out from under the covers, my hair sticking up in every direction. My voice came out small. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.” She didn’t even try to beat around the bush. “Trust me, you’ll feel a lot better after you shower. Plus, you reek.”
I gasped. “No, I do not!”
“Yes, you do. Get your ass out of bed.” Erin reached down and smacked my leg over the covers. She gave me one more firm look and left my bedroom.
I lifted my arm to smell myself and cringed. She was right; I needed a shower. I threw back my covers, heaving my tired body out of bed. Five days after the competition, and I still ached. Although, it had more to do with the onslaught of emotions than the physical demands of skating.
Padding into the bathroom, I winced at my reflection. My hair was a bird's nest, the roots greasy, my face pale with bags under my eyes. I looked horrible. Just like how I felt. I turned the water on to warm, shedding my clothes before I stepped under the spray.
I stood there and squeezed my eyes shut as flashes of Mateo’s face appeared, the hurt and desperation on it. My knees buckled at the image, at the look I put there. I ducked my head under the water, willing it to wash them from my head.
I spent a long time in the shower, washing my hair and body multiple times until I finally felt clean. Steam billowed around me when I stepped out and wrapped a towel around myself. This time, I ignored my reflection as I made my way back to my room to get dressed.
I left my phone on my nightstand where it was turned off. I already went down the rabbit hole of looking at all the posts about me not doing well in the competition. The only saving grace was no one knew about Mateo and me.
By the time I made my way to the kitchen, I was clad in a new pair of sweats and the sweatshirt I stole from Mateo. I buried my nose in it for five minutes, the ache in my chest growing by the second. But Erin was right, I did feel better.
“I made you some toast with Nutella and coffee.” Erin held up the plate and mug.
“Thank you,” I murmured, taking them from her, heading for the couch, and curling my feet under me.
Erin sat beside me, giving me space until I took a few bites of toast. She hadn’t asked about the last five days, not yet, but I could tell she wanted answers.
“You’ve barely slept, and you won’t look at your phone.” Erin’s voice softened. “Whatever happened, Em… Can you just tell me?”
“I…” I wasn’t even sure where to start.
“Did something happen before you went on the ice?”
“Yes? No? I was fine until the final four skaters and then everything just shifted. I always get nervous, but this was something else. It was like I couldn’t get out of my own head. And then Keira,” I said.
At the mention of Keira, Erin sat up, eyes narrowed. “What did that bitch do?”
“The usual. She tried to get into my head…and she did.” I shook my head as I stared at the toast in my lap.
“What did she say?”
“She asked if Mateo was watching. Said she hoped I wouldn’t disappoint him when I didn’t do well.” Erin hissed under her breath. “And then she said I only do well until it counts. I knew better than to listen, but I did, and it got in my head. After that, the rest of the competition was shot.”
“Em, you know she only did that because you’re her biggest competition. She knows you can out skate her every single time.”
“I know that I do. I just…” All the feelings of not being good enough, of failing, came forward. They threatened to drown me. “What if I do make it back to the Olympics and fail?”
The words tumbled from my mouth. “What if everyone believes I should have retired and the last year spent training was all for nothing? I’ll be that washed up athlete that tried to make it one last time and falls on her ass in front of millions.” My voice cracked.
“Oh, Emmie.” Erin scooted closer, throwing her arm over my shoulders to pull me into her side.
Tears pricked my eyes, but I held them back. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
“Who would you disappoint?”
“You, Marcy, my dad, Mateo,” I listed off.
Erin leaned forward, turning her head to look right at me.
“You could never disappoint me, Emmie. Ever. I’m not friends with you because you’re an amazing skater.
I’m friends with you because you’re you.
” Her brown eyes turned glossy with tears.
“You’re the girl who helped me off the ice when I fell on my ass.
The girl who never once made fun of me for writing stories.
Hell, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have this career.
I wouldn’t be in an amazing relationship. ”
I lost the battle of holding back my tears. A sob broke free as I leaned into Erin. She didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms tight around me, pulling me in like she wasn’t going to let me fall apart on my own.
We clung to each other, both of us crying, the kind that came from deep in your chest and didn’t stop no matter how hard you tried.
“I messed everything up,” I choked into her shoulder.
Erin pulled back enough to look at me, hands gripping my arms. “Hey, no. You didn’t mess anything up.” Her voice was soft, gentle. “And Mateo?”
I shook my head, more tears slipping free. “I ruined that.”
Erin huffed softly, like she didn’t believe me for a second. “Emmie…that man is so in love with you.” She brushed her thumb under my eye, wiping away a tear. “You haven’t ruined anything.”
I wanted to believe her. God, I did. But the image of Mateo walking out the door wouldn’t leave my head.
My chin wobbled. “You didn’t see the look on his face.”
Erin’s grip on me tightened. “Then we’ll fix it. But you don’t get to give up on him just because you’re hurting.”
I swallowed hard, her words settling somewhere deep inside of me.
I stared up at my childhood home. The dark gray wooden panels slightly faded.
The white trim around the windows and doors had chips from over the years.
What was once a small baby oak tree was now giant, towering over the tile roof.
The front yard was still meticulously cared for.
The lawn was green and freshly mowed, bushes and flowers lining both sides of the fence.
It was a modest two-story home despite how much my dad made as the Titans’ coach. It had four rooms, but since it was only just my dad and me, the other two were converted into a home office and gym.
A cold breeze got my feet moving toward the door. I needed to get out of the apartment, and there was really only one other place I wanted to be right now. Clad in a different pair of sweats and the same sweatshirt of Mateo’s I refused to take off, I walked up the steps and knocked on the door.
I barely gave my dad a heads-up, shooting him a text on the drive here. When he opened the door, the sight of him made fresh tears spring to my eyes.
“Emmie.” He barely got the words out before I dove into his chest, arms banding around his middle.
“Hey, Dad,” I mumbled against him as his own arms wrapped around me. I closed my eyes and just squeezed, needing his calming presence.
As if sensing I needed a moment, he rested his chin on my head and didn’t say a word. We stood like that in the doorway for a few minutes before I finally pulled away. He ushered me inside, closing the door with a click. I slipped off my shoes by the door, a house rule since I was little.
I was here only two weeks ago for dinner with Mateo, yet as soon as I stepped in, it was like I was transported to being fifteen again, helping dad unpack boxes to make this home our own.
He still had the same photos hanging on the wall in the hallway that led toward the kitchen at the back of the house.
Still had the same brown leather couches in the living room, some spots a lighter shade from being sat on so much.
My fingers trailed along the banister leading upstairs until I couldn’t reach any farther. I knew every creak in the floorboards. I used to carefully avoid them whenever I snuck out with Erin in high school.
Even after all these years, this place still felt like home.
“Want something to drink?” Dad asked over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.
“Do you have something stronger than water?” I blurted, then immediately winced. “I mean…water’s fine,” I backtracked. I might be a grown adult, but asking my dad for alcohol felt weird.
He paused in the arched doorway between the living room and kitchen, glancing back at me with a knowing look. “Em, I know you drink. You and Erin used to sneak wine bottles upstairs like I wasn’t going to notice.”
“You knew this whole time?” I asked, following behind him. He went straight for a cabinet and grabbed two glasses.
“You’re a horrible liar, always have been. Not that you did it often, thank god for that, but yes I knew.”
I leaned my hip against the island counter, watching him grab a bottle of whiskey and pour two finger lengths in each cup. When he handed me a glass, he gestured toward the couch.
The coffee table in front of the couch was littered with paper. A quick glance showed a bunch of plays and routes for the football game tomorrow afternoon.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
Dad waved me off. “I was just finishing up.”