Chapter 44 Ivy
IVY
And now we’re here, in my home state. New York. I wouldn’t normally call myself patriotic, but there’s nothing like standing in front of a home crowd, American flags waving in the chilled air. It makes me proud to be here, representing my country.
When I climbed to the top of the track, I saw my people.
My parents were near the finish line, bundled in their coats and cheering loud enough to rival the announcer.
Dean, Max and Kayla, were fresh off their runs, their cheeks flushed and smiles wide as they laughed about something.
My four closest high school friends—Nevaeh, Amber, Rio and Ezra—had planted themselves near the halfway gate, glittered signs waving overhead.
God, I love them. And the fact that they all took time off from their busy lives to be here for me.
Now, as I stare down the glittering track calling my name, a mix of emotions swell in my chest. I’m elated, ready to carve through every turn, but there’s also a pang of sadness knowing this season ends with just one more run.
Adjusting my helmet with the GoPro strapped on top, I flex my fingers inside my gloves and roll my shoulders loose.
The cheers of the crowd far below rise like a distant tide, muffled by space and focus.
The ghost of the race in Finland lingers on the edges of my thoughts. The fall—hard and humiliating—left a bruise deeper than the ones on my body. It taught me how quickly everything can go wrong. But it also pushes me to fight harder and I refuse to let fear write my ending.
The track crew gives me a thumbs up, signaling that it’s my turn soon. Simultaneously, a voice crackles through the comms. “Competitor thirty-eight, Ivy Campbell from New York, USA. Are you ready?”
Nodding, I crouch into position, my eyes locked on the course below. I’ve done this track hundreds of times in my head and know every twist and turn. The buzzer sounds and I launch forward, my pink skates slicing into the ice with a satisfying sound.
Landing clean after the first jump, I keep going, shifting my weight into the next curve with precision. My legs burn, but it’s a good type of burn. Months of training and hours of repetition pays off in real time. I hit each step with confidence, my pulse spiking.
I streamline my form, rocketing down. The final stretch opens wide, leading me to the finish line. I grit my teeth and push harder, ignoring the fire in my quads, shooting forward with everything I have left.
The endpoint rushes toward me and when I cross it, the announcer’s voice cuts through the loud crowd: “New track record for the women’s category in Lake Placid: 33.7 seconds. Beating the old record by 0.2 seconds, Ivy Campbell takes the lead!”
I skid to a stop. My chest rises and falls in shallow gasps. My visor fogs, so I pull the helmet off, gulping down the cold air. I fucking did it! A new record and a new personal best. The best run of my life.
My knees nearly buckle. Not from exhaustion, but from the rush of emotion. For a heartbeat, all I can do is stand there, steam rising from my body, mouth parted in shock as the crowd roars.
Holy fucking shit! I’m third overall in the women’s category. The realization slams into me, and tears spill freely. Now I get to return to Teddy’s arms not just as a racer, but as a winner.
The snow falls in delicate flakes as the medal ceremony begins, dusting shoulders and the ground of the outdoor podium. Music plays low over the speakers but it’s drowned out by the buzz of the crowd lining the barriers.
The Lake Placid event medals are awarded first. I’m up on the podium with the other winners, our breaths clouding in the cold air. My sponsor jacket is unzipped halfway to reveal the red-and-white thermal beneath.
Bronze goes to Mira Rautakorpi from Finland, who lifts her arms with a beaming smile, bouncing lightly in place as the announcer calls her name. Silver is awarded to Leni Vogel of Austria. Her precision in today’s run was terrifyingly beautiful.
“Put your hands together for the Lake Placid winner and the new track record holder for women’s category: Ivy Campbell from the United States!”
The crowd erupts, my parents cheering like maniacs while Kayla’s scream of “that’s my girl!” cuts through the rest as I’m given the medal. It’s so goddamn earned around my neck. I lift the gold high for a photo, flashing a grin, the American flag raised behind me.
After group photos and lingering hugs, the crew changes the stage setup for the final circuit standings.
Soon they’ll announce the overall results, though most of us already know the math.
Still, this moment carries weight. Every skater here understands it’s the culmination of a grueling season, pulled muscles, long nights of international travel, and near misses that could’ve ended it all.
And through every second, we pushed forward, driven by love for the sport and an unwillingness to settle for less than our best.
The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers: “In third place overall for the women’s category in the Ice Cross World Circuit 2026—give it up for Ivy Campbell from New York!”
They lift a bronze medal over my head, letting it rest beside the gold and I’m on cloud nine. Dad whistles loud enough to startle the poor woman standing next to him. He pumps a fist in the air, face flushed with pride. Mom is crying, one gloved hand over her mouth, the other clutching her thermos.
Kayla’s jumping up and down next to them, holding a new sign reading CAMPBELL SIBLING DOMINATION with doodles of both me and Max in full gear. She screams, “THIRD IN THE WORLD, BABY!” Dean points at me, mouthing, “Go Bubbles.”
My friends are right beside them. Ezra has his phone out and Nevaeh has tears in her eyes, mouthing “I knew it” over and over. She looks proud enough to burst. Rio has one arm slung casually around both her and Amber’s shoulders. The latter is waving a tiny American flag and shouting my name.
Laughing, I fight the sting of my own tears.
They’re all here. Every last one of them.
I hold my medals tightly to my chest. This is for them.
For every text, pep talk and dumb meme at two in the morning that made me laugh when I wanted to cry.
For believing in me, especially when I couldn’t.
I may be standing on the podium without them, but I didn’t get here by myself.
I only wish he was here, too. Maybe he’ll be one day.
Shaking the thought away, I watch as Coralie Marchand is announced second overall and Leni Vogel as the winner.
No surprise there. Next comes the men's series.
Dean is standing with the others near the stage, cheeks red from the cold.
He grins and shrugs when they call his name; fifth overall, not bad for his second season.
Then there’s my other brother. Max Campbell, first overall in the men’s ICWC standings.
He doesn’t even try to look cool when they announce his name.
My brother whoops so loud, throwing a triumphant fist in the air.
The crowd loves it. Kayla is screaming. Mom is crying harder.
Dad is shouting something like “Campbells rule the ice!”
The national anthem plays for Max. I close my eyes, breathing it all in. The snow, the music, the weight of achievement that’s somehow both grounding and dizzying. I’m so proud of us.
I turn to hug my parents after the ceremony and freeze in place.
Past the edge of the crowd, near the VIP section, stands someone I swear I’ve conjured up.
I blink hard to make sure I’m not imagining it, but he doesn’t disappear.
Teddy’s leaning slightly on his white cane and wearing sunglasses.
His hair is longer than I remember and he’s bundled in a heavy coat.
Beside him is an older man who must be Jake.
Teddy is here.
My heart skids, then takes off like it’s racing downhill at full speed.
My breath catches with it. He’s still recovering and healing.
He shouldn’t be here. And yet, he came. His presence means more than the promises we made before our goodbyes—it means I matter enough for him to fight his way to me.
I stride toward him, my body answering a call it’s been waiting for all season. The closer I get to him, the more I hear the whispers about him.
“Is that Teddy Seaborn?”
“Oh my god, it is.”
“What is he doing here? I thought he was seriously injured!”
“Do you think he could sign my phone case?”
When I’m close enough, I whisper his name carefully, “Teddy?”
That same crooked smile I’ve missed more than I let myself admit fills his face. I still can’t believe he showed up today!
“You were stellar out there,” he shouts over the racket around us. “I’m so proud of you. Third place overall and a new Lake Placid record holder.”
My eyes sting. The kind of burn that comes when everything you’ve held back suddenly breaks open. It’s relief, joy and love all colliding at once. “What are you doing here?”
“No way was I going to miss your final race. Jake drove us here this morning.”
My throat is too tight for words, so I reach out for his hand. The familiar feel of his palm against mine steadies me in a way nothing else can. “You came all this way for me.”
“I had no other choice.”
“Why not?”
“Because you added color to my life when all I could see was the darkness. You’re so deeply ingrained in my soul that I don’t see a future without you in it.”
I gasp, my free hand flying to my mouth. His grip tightens on mine. “I love you, Ivy. A part of me has been in love with you since that first week. I didn’t know it then, but I do now. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
The words knock the breath from me. I’ve only ever heard them from family or close friends, and never in the romantic way.
I’m stunned by how much I’ve longed to hear those three not-so-little words from him, and how terrifying and beautiful they are all at once.
Especially coming from the man who has shown me the meaning of being in love.
“I—” The words are so enormous and important to say. “I love you, too. So much it scares me.”
He laughs, the sound breathless and a little choked. “I know the feeling.”
As if pulled by the same unseen thread, we lean in at once.
Our kiss starts soft and slow like we’re both afraid the moment might vanish if we move too fast. But it doesn’t.
It only deepens. His hand rises to cradle my cheek, fingers cool but gentle, and I melt into the touch.
The world around us fades into a blur of snow and noise.
The connection quickly turns more urgent, weeks of emotion spilling into the seam between us.
His lips are familiar and new all at once.
Paired with his signature scent, they feel like coming home after a long time and realizing everything is exactly as you remembered.
The warmth of him bleeds through layers of fabric, through the weeks of distance and longing.
He kisses me like he’s been starving for this exact moment.
In return, I kiss him as though I’ve found oxygen after suffocating for weeks.
Someone shouts our names, but the rest of it doesn’t register. Because at this moment, there is only him. The man who made me trust in myself when I thought I had nothing left to give. The guy who held my hand through change. The person who truly sees me and never looks away.
When I finally lean back, just enough to see his face again, I’m breathless and blinking fast. He looks undone in the best way. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, his lips puffy from kissing me.
“That’s one way to let the world know you’re mine,” I rasp, voice rough with emotion.
He presses our foreheads together, nose brushing mine. “Let’s give them more to talk about.”
In his embrace, the final remnants of my protective layer slip away. I don’t feel the need to hide or shield the tender parts of myself any longer. With Teddy, there’s only acceptance.