Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Dean
The mixed zone erupted the second we stepped into it.
Voices crashed together from every direction while camera shutters hammered nonstop beneath the harsh white lights.
Reporters pressed forward against the barriers, producers barked into headsets, and somewhere nearby a security guard was already telling people to move back even though it was obvious nobody intended to listen.
“Dean! Dean, over here!”
“Luka! Was the kiss planned?”
“Can we get a statement from either of you?”
The noise hit hard enough that my brain struggled to catch up with it. One minute we’d been standing on Olympic ice; the next we’d been swallowed whole by cameras and microphones and hundreds of people trying to turn a single moment into a headline before someone else did.
Mark appeared beside me before the crowd could close properly around us. He moved with the same calm authority he always carried during competition, stepping subtly into the space between me and the nearest reporter without making it look aggressive.
“Give him room,” he said, his tone even. “One question at a time.”
As if that was ever going to happen.
Across the narrow aisle separating athletes from media, Mila stood beside Luka with one hand locked around his elbow, her posture protective in a way that made my chest tighten.
Luka looked pale beneath the arena lights, though whether from adrenaline or shock or the realization of what we’d just done, I couldn’t tell anymore.
Someone shoved a microphone toward my face.
“Dean, can you tell us what just happened out there?”
For a second or two I couldn’t speak.
I glanced toward Mark, who gave the smallest nod in return, a gesture of reassurance.
Then I looked at Luka.
“You just saw me with my partner.”
For a second, Luka stopped moving.
The noise seemed to hesitate around us.
His eyes widened before a smile broke through, unguarded and bright.
Partner.
He stared at me, clearly caught off guard, as if astonished that I’d spoken the word so easily, as if there had never been any reason to call us anything else.
I gave him the warmest smile I could manage.
The reaction tore through the crowd in a heartbeat.
There were gasps and even cheers, and applause broke out near the back of the press line, scattered at first before it spread outward in waves.
Athletes started it, and coaches followed, then arena staff.
People packed behind the barriers lifted phones higher while flashes burst white across the corridor.
Another reporter lunged forward. “Dean, were you concerned this could affect sponsorships or Olympic eligibility moving forward?”
Mark cut in before I could answer. “Next question.”
Across the aisle, I could see Luka confronting his own barrage.
“What does this mean for your federation?”
“Have officials spoken to you already?”
“Are you worried about repercussions when you return home?”
I saw that last one hit home. Luka’s jaw tightened while exhaustion flickered across his face before he forced it back under control. Beside him, Mila leaned closer and said something low and fierce enough that I caught the edge of fire in her expression even from here.
Whatever she said steadied him.
Luka swallowed.
“I represented my country tonight.” His voice shook a little before steadying. “I have represented my country my entire life.”
The mixed zone fell quieter.
“That has not changed.” He glanced at me. “This changes nothing about my medals.” He took a breath. “It changes nothing about who I am. The only difference is that now I’m done pretending.”
The crowd exploded into a wave of noise, sharp and immediate. I saw more phones lifted everywhere around us while people shouted questions over each other as security failed to contain the chaos spreading through the mixed zone.
Beyond the barriers, pride flags had appeared, small ones mostly, waved by spectators crushed shoulder to shoulder near the exits, faces shining with excitement, disbelief, and joy.
I looked at Luka again, and he reached across the narrow space separating us with no trace of hesitation. I caught his hand, and our fingers locked together in full view of every camera pointed at us.
No more hiding now.
Flashbulbs detonated around us while reporters shouted louder, and somewhere behind the crowd someone started chanting our names.
I barely heard any of it.
Luka’s fingers tightened around mine.
Then, somewhere beyond the wall of reporters, I heard someone shouting his name.
Not a fan, but an official.
The sound barely registered.
Luka didn’t let go.
Luka
“Mila, where are you taking us?”
She said nothing but tugged my hand, leading me through the maze of corridors, away from the mixed zone, from the noise and bustle. Dean followed behind me, and somewhere along the route we’d lost his coach.
Mila stopped in front of a door. “In here.” She pushed it open, then stepped aside for Dean and I.
It was a small room that felt even smaller after the chaos we’d just left.
It seemed to be some temporary space thrown together for athletes, nothing but white walls, folding chairs, and a plastic table crowded with abandoned water bottles and towels.
The door shut behind us with a muted click, and the noise of the arena vanished so abruptly my ears rang in the silence that followed.
Dean dropped back against the wall and slid down onto the floor as though his legs had finally given out on him. Then he laughed under his breath, the sound rough and unsteady with disbelief.
“Holy shit.”
I stayed where I was near the center of the room, my medal hanging against my chest while adrenaline still tore through my bloodstream hard enough to make my hands shake. Years of training had taught me how to survive mixed zones.
None of those skills seemed particularly useful tonight.
Mila set my bag down beside one of the chairs before turning toward us. She looked at Dean first, then at me.
“You did it,” she murmured, as if she still couldn’t quite believe it herself. “Bo?e, Luka. You actually did it.”
My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. “I think I might be in shock.”
Dean scrambled to his feet and crossed the room, stopping close enough to me that the whole night suddenly became real again.
“Hey,” he said, his voice whisper soft. “Are you okay?”
I nodded automatically before panic surged hard enough to stop the motion halfway through. “No.” My voice cracked. “Stay.”
Dean closed the gap between us, and I rested my head against his shoulder. He didn’t utter a word, but simply stood there, offering contact and warmth, the solid reassurance of his arms around me.
I grabbed the front of his jacket before I could stop myself, fear flooding back now that the adrenaline had started thinning out.
“What if—” The words died unfinished.
Dean slid his hand down my back, the touch grounding me before I could spiral any further.
“I know,” he murmured against my hair. “We’ll deal with it later, but not tonight.”
Across the room Mila cleared her throat, already heading toward the door.
“I’m giving you five minutes,” she announced. “After that I come back and start threatening anyone who gets too close to you. And especially anyone with a microphone.”
Despite everything, I let out a burst of laughter. “You’re terrifying.”
“And I’m so glad you’re on our side,” Dean added with a chuckle.
She grinned, then slipped out before either of us could say another word, and the door clicked shut behind her once more.
Dean leaned back enough to stare at me, his eyes still dazed, bright with leftover adrenaline and emotion and no doubt the impossible reality of what we’d done out there.
“You okay?” he repeated.
I almost lied from habit.
I thought about the crowd outside. The applause, the pride flags lifting above people’s heads near the barriers. The strangers cheering for us as if they truly understood how much it had cost to stand there openly for even thirty seconds.
And yet the world has kept on turning.
“I don’t know what happens next,” I admitted. “But I know I don’t regret it.”
Dean’s face was a picture of relief tangled with affection so open it sent a rush of warmth barreling through me.
“Me neither.” He brushed his fingers against the edge of my silver medal, his knuckles grazing my throat beneath the ribbon while his gaze stayed fixed on mine.
“You were incredible tonight.” His voice was a little raw. “Before all the chaos.”
I smiled despite myself, and his expression warmed instantly in response. “So were you.” I gazed into his eyes. “What you said to the reporters…”
His lips twitched. “What part, exactly?” But before I could repeat his statement, he smiled. “Ah. The bit about you being my partner?”
I nodded, swallowing again.
Dean pressed his lips to my forehead. “Well, you are—aren’t you?” He pulled back, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Unless you’re already thinking of trading me in. I hear Ethan’s available right now. Is he more your type?”
I laughed, loving how he’d resorted to humor at exactly the right moment.
I slid my arms around him. “Definitely not. He’s too loud. I prefer someone quieter, more thoughtful.”
“Hmm, let me think if I know anyone like that.” Then he tilted his head. “Will I do?”
I gave him the only answer I could. I kissed him, taking my time, taking advantage of Mila’s brief absence.
We stood like that for a long time afterward, holding onto each other in a room where nobody was watching, while the adrenaline slowly drained from our bodies. I could hear Dean’s heartbeat beneath my ear when I rested my head against his chest, exhaustion creeping into my limbs all at once.
I let out a sigh. “I always thought that if I stopped holding myself together so tightly, everything would collapse.”
Dean’s arms tightened around me, and he pressed another gentle kiss into my hair. “Looks to me like you stayed on your feet.”
I let out a shaky laugh. Maybe I had.