Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Dean
The music cut off sharply, but adrenaline roared through me.
I stayed exactly where I was at center ice, my chest heaving, the lights blazing down hard enough to make the whole arena shimmer around the edges. Then the crowd hit me all at once, the sound crashing through the space in a wave so loud it felt physical.
I laughed before I could stop myself, a noise of pure relief and exhilaration.
It wasn’t perfect. It didn’t need to be.
I’d left everything on the ice and knew it.
I turned toward the Team USA section as applause thundered around the arena, my heart pounding when I saw the joy on my teammates’ faces, then I skated hard toward the exit, my pulse still rapid.
The second I came through the gate, Mark grabbed my shoulder.
“I told you not to think about beating someone else,” he said roughly over the noise. “I told you to go out there and skate the best you could.”
I was still trying to catch my breath.
Mark’s grip tightened. “And dammit, Dean—you delivered.”
My chest swelled hard enough to hurt. “Yeah?” I managed.
A grin finally cracked through his composure. “Yeah.” Then he grabbed me in a huge hug.
I laughed again, breathless now, adrenaline still flooding every inch of me.
Ethan was already sitting there waiting for me when I reached the Kiss and Cry, jacket zipped halfway up, one leg bouncing with leftover adrenaline.
“I think that was better than my 87.54,” he quipped as I dropped into the seat beside him.
“Hey, don’t do that.” I nudged his shoulder. “You skated great.” I was still buzzing.
“I beat Iliev.” Ethan looked pleased with himself. “Not by much, but I beat him.” Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice theatrically. “Which will not delight your boyfriend’s delegation.”
I choked. “He is not my—”
“Dude, please,” Ethan cut in, rolling his eyes so hard I thought he might actually injure himself. “‘Boyfriend’ sounded classier than several alternatives I considered.”
I stared at him in horror.
His grin widened. “Relax. I’m not announcing it over arena speakers.”
“That is an alarmingly low standard for reassurance.”
“Noah already thinks you’ve unlocked some kind of secret Olympic sex-fueled performance boost anyway.”
“Oh my God.”
Ethan shrugged. “Personally, I’m offended you hid this from me. I thought we had honesty.”
“We absolutely do not have that level of honesty.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “Cruel.”
Despite everything, laughter broke loose again, still tangled with leftover adrenaline from the skate.
Ethan’s expression softened. “Seriously, though,” he said, lowering his voice. “You doing okay?”
I opened my mouth to give the usual answer—and stopped.
Luka was standing beside the boards watching me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.
“He was watching your every move.” Ethan’s voice barely carried.
I snorted. “So you were watching him instead of me?”
He looked deeply offended. “Please. I multitask beautifully.”
“Sure you do.”
“I knew you’d bring it home. He was the interesting one. Davorin looked about three seconds away from either applauding wildly or having a complete nervous breakdown.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I am absolutely not exaggerating.” Ethan’s grin widened. “Honestly, if the skating thing doesn’t work out, the guy could have a future in intensely repressed staring.”
I barked out a laugh just as the screens showed me on the ice, my quad in slow motion.
There had been a few quads. There were more to come.
Mark folded his arms beside us, his gaze fixed on the monitor. “Come on,” he muttered.
My pulse kicked up again. I hated this part, always had. You skated, you finished, and then your entire life got reduced to waiting for strangers to attach numbers to it.
Beside me, Ethan nudged my shoulder. “Relax.”
Easy for him to say.
Then my scores appeared.
107.96
For a second, I genuinely stopped breathing.
The arena exploded.
Mark slapped the back of my neck hard enough to jolt me forward while Ethan shouted something completely incoherent beside me.
And then the standings flashed up.
Results – Men’s Short Program
USA (10 pts)
Velkarya (5 pts)
Then the updated overall standings flashed up:
Team Standings After Men’s SP
Canada – 20
USA – 18
Velkarya – 14
The pressure inside the building shifted instantly.
USA was back in striking distance.
“Looks like Velkarya are still in the running for their first ever team medal in this event.” Mark glanced at me.
I barely had time to process that before my phone buzzed in my jacket pocket.
I already knew who it would be.
Luka: Congratulations. Unfortunately this means your country is becoming difficult again.
Warmth spread through me, and I typed back before I could think too hard about it.
Funny. We were just saying the exact same thing about Velkarya.
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Good. Rivalry should remain healthy.
Three dots appeared again.
But for the record… you were beautiful out there.
My thumb stopped over the screen.
Beside me, Ethan glanced sideways. “Uh-oh.”
I locked my phone immediately. “What?”
“That face.” He sounded smug. “That is not a Team USA face.”
I shoved his shoulder while he laughed out loud. Then I was surrounded once more by my elated teammates, patting me on the back, hugging me, all talking at once.
Underneath the noise and the cameras and the Olympic chaos, one thought kept resurfacing.
Luka had been watching.
“Press time,” Mark announced. “Quick, before you all squeeze the life out of Dean.”
Everyone laughed as we headed for the corridor. My phone started vibrating before I’d even made it halfway. I ignored it.
If it’s Luka, it can wait. I had no intention of letting him leave my room tonight.
Ethan had an arm slung around my shoulders, Nathan loudly informed anyone who would listen that Team USA had finally remembered how to be “appropriately theatrical,” and two of the women from the hockey team nearly flattened me as they barreled past in celebration.
The whole hallway buzzed with noise and movement, athletes and coaches flooding out of the arena while volunteers tried unsuccessfully to keep traffic flowing. My pulse was still running hot from the skate, the last remnants of adrenaline enough that everything felt sharper, brighter.
Then my phone buzzed again. And again.
I finally dragged it out of my pocket, grinning when I saw the screen.
Mom.
I answered without thinking. “Hey, Mom. What time is it there, about one o’clock? Did you see me?”
There was a pause on the other end that lasted way too long.
“Dean.”
Something about the way she said my name made every muscle in my body tighten at once. The noise around me seemed to dull, as though someone had turned the volume down on the corridor.
“I don’t want you to worry.”
I stopped walking.
Ethan glanced back at me, his grin fading the second he saw my face. “What happened?”
I waited for Mom to say more, and suddenly I could hear it. Hospital sounds. Muted voices. A distant announcement overhead.
“It’s your dad,” Mom said quickly. “He’s okay. They think it was just—just a scare. They’re running tests.”
The corridor tilted around me, and I reached for the railing beside the wall without realizing I was doing it, fingers locking hard around cold metal.
“A scare how?” I heard myself ask, the words coming too sharp, too fast.
“He complained of chest pain, shortness of breath.” Her voice wavered before she steadied it again. “They kept him overnight, but he’s already arguing with the nurses and complaining about the coffee, so honestly that’s probably a good sign.”
I shut my eyes hard.
Jesus Christ.
“He told me not to call you until after your skate,” she rushed on. “He was very firm about that.”
My heartbeat slammed violently against my ribs, competition adrenaline twisted into something sick and panicked.
“Why are you calling me now?”
“Because I know you. And because you’d be furious if everyone kept this from you.”
Across the corridor, Ethan had gone still. Nathan’s voice had faded somewhere into the background. I could feel the team watching me without hearing any of them.
“I should be there,” I said.
“No.” The firmness in her voice caught me off guard. “Absolutely not. Your father would lose his mind if you even suggested it.” I heard her take a breath. “Dean, this is your Olympics.”
All I could picture was Dad collapsed somewhere while I’d been out on Olympic ice with thousands of people cheering my name.
My stomach clenched.
“I can’t…” My voice broke rough halfway through. I swallowed hard and tried again. “I can’t think about this right now.”
“I know,” Mom said quietly. “That’s why I’m telling you everything is under control here. You focus on what you need to do. We’ll handle everything else.”
Focus.
The word felt meaningless suddenly, thin and unreal.
My chest hurt, thick with fear that stripped everything else away in seconds.
“I love you.” Mom’s voice cracked. “And we’re so proud of you.”
I shut my eyes again. “Yeah,” I managed. “I love you too.”
Then the call ended.
For a second I stayed exactly where I was, forehead against the wall, breathing too hard.
Five minutes earlier I’d been staring at a scoreboard.
Now I couldn’t remember the number.
“Dean?” Mark’s voice cut through the noise around me.
I straightened too fast, dragging a hand down my face as I pushed away from the wall, but it was pointless. One look at me and his entire expression changed.
“What is it?” He stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”
“My dad.” I swallowed hard. “He’s in the hospital.”
“What happened?” Mark asked in a low, urgent voice.
“Chest pains. Trouble breathing.” Saying it out loud made it worse somehow, more real. “It sounds like it’s a cardiac event, but he’s stable. They’re running tests.”
Mark exhaled, tension easing from his face. “Okay. Okay. Stable is good.”
I nodded. “He told her not to tell me until after I skated.”
That almost undid me.
Dad would rather scare the hell out of himself than risk distracting me before competition.