Chapter 31
ISABELLA
“What the hell is up with you?”
My sister’s voice cuts in behind me. I’m doing that thing again—walking too fast, like I can outrun being stopped. Except it’s not my parents I’m trying to dodge this time. Just my own stupid, obsessive thoughts.
“I’m busy,” I throw over my shoulder, not slowing down.
“Mm,” Nina hums, falling into step beside me anyway. “That’s not what I asked you, though.”
I push through the double doors into the service corridor, the air warmer here, quieter, a brief reprieve before we hit the main rink again. It has the same smell as the entire rink, except that it feels like this is a neutral space where no one will linger unless they have to. Safe.
“I have three meetings back-to-back,” I add, like that answers anything.
“You’ve had three meetings back-to-back every day this week,” she points out. “And somehow you’ve still managed to miss half of them.”
I glance at her. She looks rougher than normal. Her eyes are puffy, as if she overslept, and her hair is wilder than usual. “What’s up with you?”
Nina stops walking. “I’m also busy, Isabella.”
“Oh, full name. Okay, what is going on?”
She crosses her arms, studying me in that way she’s perfected since I was a teenager and she was barely double digits old—half amused, half too perceptive for her own good. “You’re not even pretending.”
“Pretending what?”
“That you’re fine.”
I let out a breath through my nose, glancing down the corridor and in the direction of the rink doors.
I can already hear the shift in noise—music starting and stopping, the low hum of voices layering over each other.
There’s a little bit more urgency in the air, too, since the summer program is coming to an end soon.
“That is rich coming from you,” I say, more evenly this time. “And I am fine.”
Nina doesn’t move.
“Okay,” she says, like she’s agreeing just to move things along. “Rodrigo was looking for you.”
I pause mid-step. “For what? Where’s his coach?”
“He didn’t say,” Nina replies, arching one of her brows. “Just that it was important. He’s been camped out in your office for the last twenty minutes, sweating all over the place after his cardio session in the gym.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Great.”
“You’re welcome, Izzy,” she adds, already turning back the way we came. “Try not to scare him.”
“I don’t scare him.”
My office door is half open when I get there. Nina disappeared for a moment and is now sitting at my desk, putzing around with my computer, hopefully clearing my calendar so I can just… obsess about Cecilia in peace, hopefully.
Rodrigo is sitting in one of the chairs across from my desk, trying very hard not to touch anything. He straightens into his skater posture immediately when he sees me, as though he’s been waiting for permission to exist in the space.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I reply, stepping inside. “I didn’t mean to make you wait, I got stopped by the physio on my way here.”
“Oh, no problem.”
“Alright, gang, I’m going to step out,” Nina says, already heading for the door.
“No!”
Nina stops mid-step. “Excuse me?”
Rodrigo lifts a hand, like he’s trying to keep the moment from collapsing. “Can you stay? Please?”
“Wow.” She looks at me and raises that damn eyebrow again. “I knew I was important around here.”
“I—uh. I want your perspective, too.” He nods quickly, then stalls, searching for a way to start the conversation. “I talked to Sandra.”
That gets my attention. Nina lets out a quiet hum and props herself against the sideboard. I pull out the chair across from him and sit, turning enough to keep Nina in my line of sight. No desk between us.
“Okay.” I lean back. “What did she say?”
“And my parents, obviously,” he adds. “About… everything?”
“Everything,” I repeat.
He winces. “Yeah. That wasn’t very specific, sorry.”
Rodrigo takes a deep breath. His eyes go back and forth between Nina and me, and I don’t know if he’s searching for the least intimidating pair of eyes or if he really does not know how to articulate his thoughts.
“No, it wasn’t.”
He lets out another breath, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “You know, about next year and stuff. What to do.”
I nod once, waiting.
“So, umm. I’ve been getting calls,” he continues. “Or, like… emails. Messages. Coaches reaching out.”
“I’m not surprised, Rodrigo.”
He huffs out a small laugh, and from the corner of my eye I can see Nina smiling at him. “Me neither. It’s just… different when it’s actually happening.”
I watch him for a second. The way he’s holding himself, the light tension in his shoulders, all of it carefully contained.
“So what did they say?” I ask.
“Sandra said to take my time,” he replies. “Which is helpful, but also not helpful.”
Nina mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “that sounds like Sandra,” but the conversation moves on.
“And your parents?”
“They think I should go somewhere with a strong program, but at the same time, they can’t afford for me to go to college in the US, so it also has to be a very competitive offer,” he blurts out. “Which—also not super helpful.”
There’s a pause. He shifts in his seat, then looks up at me more directly.
“I think I know where I want to go,” he says.
I don’t react immediately, instead letting him lead this conversation. “Okay.”
“Michigan,” he adds, like saying it out loud makes it more real.
I nod slowly. “Not Wisconsin at Madison?”
Rodrigo makes a face, shaking his head at the mention of the other university that showed a lot of interest in him during exhibition week. Their scouts have asked about him on multiple occasions, and even went as far as trying to get me to schedule time with Cecilia to discuss his options.
Nina straightens like she’s been personally summoned. “Wow. Disrespectful.”
Rodrigo glances between us. “What?”
“Wisconsin has one of the best curling programs in the country,” she points out. “Just something to think about.”
“Nina.”
“I’m literally not thinking about that,” he says carefully.
“Anyway,” I continue, cutting her a look. “Michigan has a really strong program and great coaching. You’d get what you need there.”
He exhales, something in his posture loosening just slightly. “But, um…”
“Rodrigo.”
“Well,” he says. “Um… If I go there, then Ceci won’t have a skater, and then… What is she going to do? I’m worried about her.”
I keep my eyes on him for a second and wait for him to continue with his train of thought. I know exactly where this is going, but I allow him the space to lead the conversation about his future.
“I just—” He stops, searching for the right words. “I wanted to make sure it made sense for everyone.”
“You don’t need to make decisions for everyone. You need to focus on what’s best for your career, Rodrigo.”
“I know,” he says quickly. “I’m not. I just… wanted to check with you.”
“Check what?”
He hesitates again, then shakes his head like he’s already decided he’s said enough.
“Look,” I say, and Nina clears her throat at the same time.
I don’t turn to look at her, but I feel it—my sister trying to stop me before I say something I can’t take back.
I ignore it, obviously, because Rodrigo came to me for guidance.
“I can’t tell you exactly what to do, because I’ve never been in your position.
My path was… very clear from the beginning.
I had the resources, the infrastructure, and teams of people making sure I could focus on skating and nothing else.
I didn’t have to think about funding or placement or whether there was space for me somewhere. You do.”
He’s watching me carefully now, holding on to every word I say and memorizing it exactly as I say it.
“And the reality is,” I continue, a little more evenly, “there are only so many ways to grow in this sport, especially when you don’t have consistent support behind you. Talent isn’t enough. It never has been.”
Nina shifts slightly against the sideboard but stays quiet.
“What we’re doing here—what Nina and I are trying to build—it’s meant to help with that.
To give skaters like you a starting point that isn’t entirely dependent on luck or the right person noticing at the right time.
It’s not the finish line. It’s… a step. A way to get you where you need to go next. ”
Rodrigo nods slowly. I know he understands this part—because otherwise he and Cecilia wouldn’t be here.
“But it’s not everything,” I add. “And it’s not something I can sustain indefinitely for every athlete who comes through here. That’s not how this works.”
His jaw tightens just slightly.
“So if you have an opportunity to go somewhere like Michigan,”—my voice gentler now—“with a strong program, with support, with structure already in place, you take it. You don’t stay here or in Argentina because you’re worried about what happens to someone else.”
There’s a pause.
“And Cecilia?” he asks quietly. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so young, not since I first saw him at Worlds almost six months ago.
“Cecilia is very good at what she does,” I reply, circling around his question. “She’s not going to disappear just because you move on.”
Nina exhales softly, almost like she’s been holding that breath for a while.
“She’ll figure it out. That I can promise,” I add. “That’s what good coaches do.”
It’s not the whole truth, but it’s not a lie, either.
Rodrigo studies me for another moment, something shifting behind his eyes as he processes it.
“Okay,” he says eventually.
For a second, the room goes quiet.
Then Nina pushes off the cabinet.
“Great,” she says lightly. “Love a life-altering decision before lunch.”
Rodrigo lets out a small laugh, the tension easing just enough.
“And for the record,” she says, looking at me and pumping her eyebrows a few times, “Wisconsin is still an option if you want to pivot into curling.”
“Jesus, Nina.”
“Not happening,” Rodrigo says at the same time.
“Your loss,” she replies, and drags Rodrigo out of my office with a grin on her face.