Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Luka
For two days I’d been expecting another knock on the door.
Sokolov’s silence had become worse than the meeting itself.
And speaking of Sokolov…
Mila followed my gaze to the main doors of the rink. “He isn’t coming.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, I don’t.” She pushed away from the boards. “But I do know you’re driving yourself insane, waiting for the ax to fall. Maybe he truly meant it when he said he was leaving the gala skate in our hands, that it was our story to tell.”
I stared at her for a second before letting out a snort. “You didn’t believe that any more than I did.”
Mila huffed. “Of course not.” She skated a slow circle around me. “You realize we can’t skate that exhibition program. Not the way we planned it.”
I squared my shoulders. “No, we can’t.”
“Good.” She came to a stop beside me. “If we skate that program now, we’re finishing their story.”
I looked down at the ice. A jagged scrape marked the surface near my blades. “It was never ours.” When there was no response, I jerked my head up.
Mila flashed me a cool smile. “Exactly.”
For a moment neither of us spoke. Then she tapped my arm. “What do you want to do?”
The Japanese pairs team swept past us, close enough that the rush of air tugged at my jacket. I watched them complete their lift, set down cleanly, and continue across the rink.
Mila waited. She knew me too well to fill the silence.
At the far end, a coach shouted instructions. Someone restarted their music. The rink carried on around us.
“What do you want to do?”
I knew she was repeating it because she wasn’t going to let me escape behind a non-answer.
I laughed. “You always were relentless.”
“It’s an occupational hazard.”
For years every major decision in my life had arrived already made. There had been discussions, certainly. Meetings, expectations dressed up as opportunities…
This was different.
Mila said nothing.
I took a deep breath. “I don’t care what we do, but we’re not doing that.”
She laughed, a bright sound of pure relief. “Good.” She pushed away a few feet, then turned back. “We’ll need help. Advice.”
“I know.”
“Then stop behaving as though this decision belongs entirely to you.”
I rubbed a hand across my jaw. “Okay.”
Mila stared at me, then narrowed her gaze. “That was too easy.”
“I’m tired.”
That earned me a laugh. “Who isn’t?” She skated closer again and tugged my jacket collar straight, a tiny gesture, eight years of partnership distilled into two seconds. She locked gazes with me. “If you’re going to do this, don’t make it small.”
I laughed. “Mila, I kissed him in front of the entire Olympics.”
“Good. Keep that energy.” She pushed off first. Halfway to the boards she called over her shoulder, “Tell him he owes me.”
I blinked. “For what?”
She looked back, her eyebrows raised. “For making me look subtle all these years.”
I laughed, and the sound followed her off the ice.
Then I realized I couldn’t stay there.
I had someone to see.
Finding Mark turned out to be surprisingly easy.
He was exactly where I should have expected him to be, in a temporary office beneath the arena, surrounded by accreditation forms, the sort of administrative paperwork that seemed to multiply whenever the Olympics were involved.
Mark looked up as I knocked on the open door.
“Luka.” The surprise on his face lasted only a second. “Everything okay?”
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
That alone seemed to put Mark on alert. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’ve been around athletes for more than twenty years. When somebody starts a conversation with ‘nothing,’ it usually means the opposite.”
I almost smiled. “Nothing is wrong.”
“Good. There’s been enough drama at these Games.” He gestured toward the empty chair opposite him. “Sit down and tell me why you look like you’re about to ask for diplomatic immunity.” He froze. “You’re not, are you?”
I chuckled. “No, nothing like that.” As soon as I sat down, the words I’d rehearsed repeatedly deserted me. I swallowed. “I want to change the exhibition program.”
His brow furrowed for a moment. Then he nodded. “Okay. Not sure why you’re telling me, but okay.”
His response caught me off guard. “That’s it?”
“It’s an exhibition, not a medal performance,” Mark said with a shrug. “Skaters change things all the time.”
“Not like this. And as for why I am here, I need your advice—your help—to do it.”
Mark straightened and folded his arms. “All right. Start again.”
I took a breath, then another. By the time I had finished, neither of us spoke for several seconds.
He rocked back on his chair and stared up at the ceiling. “Well.”
I waited.
He dropped back to the floor. “That’s certainly made my morning more interesting.” My lips twitched, and he pointed at me immediately. “Don’t do that.”
I stilled. “Do what?”
“Look relieved. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
I settled into my chair. “Fair enough.”
Mark rubbed both hands over his face before meeting my eyes again. “Does Mila know?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
I smiled. “Who do you think told me I needed help?”
“Smart woman.”
Another silence followed. He studied me, his gaze thoughtful.
Finally Mark asked, “Have you actually thought this through?”
I bit my lip. “Not completely.”
A heavy sigh rolled out of him. “You have a remarkable ability to make my life complicated.”
I blinked. “You’re a coach. You work with elite skaters. Isn’t this what you do?”
“Apparently I made the wrong career choice in my youth.” He laughed. “God help me.” Then his expression sobered. “Does Dean know?”
I hesitated. “Not yet.”
He arched his eyebrows. “Are you planning to surprise him?”
“No.” Not even a heartbeat’s hesitation that time.
Mark appeared relieved. “Good. Because if your plan involves springing this on somebody five minutes beforehand, my answer becomes no.”
“That was never my intention.”
His eyebrows went skyward again. “I’ve met you. I like to verify these things.” He paused. “How much time do you need?”
“As much as possible.”
Mark winced. “That’s never the answer anyone wants to hear, especially when the event in question is only three days away.”
“I am aware of that.” Which only added to my panic.
“And you’re certain you can do it?”
I thought about Dean and Mila. Then I nodded, my chin high. “Yes.”
“You understand what people are going to say about this?”
“Yes.”
“And you still want to do it?”
“More than anything.”
Mark studied me for another moment. Then he pushed his chair back with a sigh and stood. “All right.”
I blinked. “Really?”
He narrowed his gaze. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
I couldn’t hold back my smile.
Mark pointed toward the door. “Come on.”
I stilled. “Where are we going?”
He stared at me as though the answer should have been obvious.
“To find ice.”
Dean
Noah sat sideways on one of the couches with his legs stretched out in front of him, methodically destroying the label on a sports drink bottle while muted Olympic highlights flickered across the television overhead.
Every so often footage from the medal ceremony appeared on the screen.
Neither of us paid it much attention.
The athlete’s lounge was surprisingly empty. I guessed a lot of people were out either competing or else sightseeing, enjoying Milan before everything came to an end in less than a week’s time.
Which brought my attention back to Noah. I knew why I was scrolling—my boyfriend was busy with his partner.
Boyfriend. It was still new enough to send a trickle of pleasure through me.
Noah had missed out on a medal by about four places. He’d been content, though, expecting to do better in Nice in four years’ time. But his Olympics were over.
So what is on his mind?
He jerked his head up. “Where’s Luka?”
“He and Mila are working on their gala program.”
Noah nodded, his teeth worrying his bottom lip, the same way his fingers worried that damn label.
It lost another strip.
I cleared my throat. “You can ask.”
His head bobbed up again in a heartbeat. “Was I that obvious?”
I smirked. “You’ve been attacking that bottle for ten minutes.”
A reluctant grin appeared and vanished again. He peered at the mess in his hands before meeting my gaze. “What if what I want to ask you is something potentially invasive?”
Okay, that got my attention. “Depends how invasive.”
That earned me a brief laugh before he sobered fast.
“Did you know before Luka?”
I leaned back in my chair. The question wasn’t difficult, and I had a feeling I knew what he was actually asking.
“No.”
Noah frowned. “No?”
“As in, no, I never spent years wondering if I liked men. I dated girls. I wanted to date girls. My life wasn’t missing anything.”
“And then?”
I laughed. “And then Luka happened.”
Noah snorted. “That’s not an explanation.”
I shrugged. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
He looked unconvinced, not that I could really blame him.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “For a while I thought I just found him interesting.”
Noah blinked. “Interesting. Sure you did.”
“Shut up.”
He grinned into his drink.
“I tried being normal about it.”
“How’d that go?”
“Terribly. He barely acknowledged my existence for weeks.”
That got a real laugh. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Half the time I wasn’t sure he knew I was in the room. Then I realized he kept turning up in my head whether I wanted him there or not.”
“And that didn’t freak you out?”
I thought about it. “A little.” He raised an eyebrow, and I let out a wry chuckle. “Okay, maybe a lot.”
He dimpled. “Thank you.” The bottle label had been reduced to scraps by now. He stared at them for a few seconds, then sighed. “I don’t know why this conversation is getting under my skin.”
I looked at the pile of shredded paper in his hands. “Sure you don’t.”
Luka
I loved the times when we were naked in his bed, both of us long past the use of words, nothing but moans, sighs, whimpers…
I loved these times just as much, when we cuddled fully clothed, scrolling, watching stupid videos, Dean playing with my hair, twisting strands around his fingers, pressing soft kisses there while he stared at his phone.
I meant to enjoy every opportunity.