Chapter 1
one
THREE MONTHS LATER
Breathing hard, I move from a sit spin into an upright spin. Only as the music stops do I stop moving. Gasping, I wait for my heart rate to slow and the nausea to pass.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I’ve been doing spins like this for years and never had trouble.
A wave of nausea comes so fiercely I know there’s no choking it back. I rush to the edge of the ice and to the trash can that waits next to the benches. After expelling everything in my stomach, I sit down.
Irina, my trainer, claps as she comes to me. “Well, that was something.”
I force myself to look up and turn toward her. “Tell me.”
“Your double axel was weak, you barely made it off the ice and into the air. When you landed, you wobbled like a newborn on skates. Not to mention it wasn’t actually a double, but more like a one-and-a-half axel,” she tells me bluntly.
I wince. “Did I do anything right?”
“You skated lovely around the rink.”
I huff out a breath, shaking my head.
Great, that’s what every skater who’s shooting for the Olympics wants to hear.
Irina steps forward, pulling my attention back to her. “I’ve known you for a long time, yes?”
“Years.”
“Then tell me what’s going on. I’ve noticed you seem different. We need to figure out what’s going on and correct it quickly.”
“I honestly don’t know what’s going on.”
“Bullshit.”
My eyebrows raise.
“You aren’t one to throw up because of spins. Tell me right now, are you struggling with eating? You know I won’t work with someone who refuses to take care of themselves,” she says harshly.
I should feel insulted that she thinks I’m forcing myself to vomit, but I’m not. Eating disorders with figure skaters run rampant. Something I’ve never had an issue with, though, thanks to discipline and good genetics.
“You know I hate vomiting.”
“Then why?” she asks as she takes a seat next to me.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know why, but it’s been happening more and more recently. I’m constantly nauseous.”
Irina frowns. “Have you been seen? By your primary, not the team doctor.”
I shake my head slowly. “No, not by either.”
“You need to. You can’t keep ignoring it. Especially now since it’s affecting your ability to perform. Go to your primary, though. We don’t need the coaches catching on that something is wrong until you are ready.”
I sigh, knowing she’s right. I just hate going to the doctor.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
Irina stands. “Go now, then tell me what they say.”
I watch as she walks away and then get up. Quickly I head into the locker room, change, and head to my car. While the air conditioner blasts in my face, I look up the closest urgent care since I don’t have a local primary doctor. When I’m done scheduling an appointment online, I take off.
During the twenty-minute drive, my mind spirals.
What if I have cancer?
Or a brain tumor?
What if I just ate something bad and it’s lingering?
“Bad food doesn’t linger for over a month,” I mutter to myself as I park my car.
Heading inside, I check in. Before I can even finish filling out the forms, though, they call me back.
“Emery?” the nurse says.
I get up and walk toward her. “Hey.”
She smiles. “How are you today?”
“I’ve been better.”
“Well then, let’s get you checked out.”
After taking down my weight and checking my vitals, she leaves me in a room to wait for the doctor. The paper crinkles under me as I sit on the bed, making me wince.
I really, really hate doctors’ offices.
The doctor doesn’t keep me waiting long, though, and comes in.
“Hi Emery, I’m Dr. Caldwell. How are you doing?” she asks as she shakes my hand.
“I’ve been better.” I echo the same response I gave the nurse.
She nods and walks to the sink. “Tell me what’s going on.”
As she washes her hands, I tell her everything. I tell her how I’m constantly nauseous, I’m having weird dreams at night and not sleeping well, and I’m constantly fatigued.
She sits down across from me and looks at me sympathetically.
“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?” she asks gently.
“No,” I say automatically.
She raises a brow. “Are you sure? No judgment, but you are in college. I remember what those nights were like.”
There is only one person I’ve slept with in the last three years, but our hookups are random and never consistent. Even then, when we hook up, he uses a condom. On top of that, my periods have always been sporadic.
There’s no way.
It’s been months since we last slept together.
I didn’t use a condom that night.
“No, I honestly don’t think there is a chance. I haven’t had my period in like six months at this point.”
“Will you humor me and let me run a test? I can test for that at the same time as checking for a UTI or kidney infection. I’ll also do a blood test and run a full panel to cover all of our bases.”
“Okay.”
Dr. Caldwell smiles. “I know you’re scared, but we will figure this out together.”
“Thank you.”
She leaves, and the nurse comes in.
“Here is this. The bathroom is across the hall. Just leave the cup in the little window under the mirror, and the lab tech will grab it. Once that’s done, walk around the corner, and they will draw your blood. When that’s finished, you can come back in here and wait for your results.”
“Thank you.”
My hands shake as I take the cup from her. All I want to do is curl up into a ball and pretend like this isn’t happening, but I make myself get up.
I go to the bathroom and pee in the cup, leaving it on the little metal shelf. After that I go around the corner. As the phlebotomist draws my blood, I stare at the ceiling. Just the idea of seeing blood makes me want to hurl.
Chalk that up as something new for me.
When she’s done, I head back into the room and wait for what feels like forever.
To pass the time and in an attempt to distract myself, I count the tiles on the ceiling. As I start to count the ones on the floor, there’s a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Blowing out a breath, I rub my clammy hands up and down my thighs.
This is it. This is when she tells me I’m dying.
Dr. Caldwell sits down across from me and smiles. “I know what’s wrong with you.”
“What is it?” I choke out.
“You’re pregnant.”
Standing to the side, I stare off into the distance, not giving a fuck about what’s happening on the ice as practice happens around me. Instead of itching to put on skates and get out on the ice with them, my mind is on her.
Emery.
I caught a glimpse of her earlier on the main rink. She was spinning in circles, likely finishing her routine. She was beautiful. Watching Emery on ice changes you. She’s like poetry in motion. Not only does she move beautifully, but she’s beautiful in her own right.
Her black hair is up in a tight bun on the top of her head. Even from this distance I can tell that her typically fair skin is flushed from the cold. I don’t need to see her blue eyes up close to know that they are filled with happiness.
She had me hooked around her finger before I even introduced myself.
Then when we actually met, I fell deeper.
Only she made it abundantly clear she had no interest in a relationship.
That never stopped us from falling into bed with each other, though.
I made it known freshman year that if she wanted orgasms, I was her guy, and she took me up on it.
At first when we started hooking up, I slept around, but during sophomore year, I stopped. She was the only one I wanted. That, and I hated the thought of maybe giving her a transmissible disease because of my transgressions.
Ever since, it’s been her and her alone. Random hookups whenever she calls or I cave and call her. Not that she knows that. She still thinks I’m my playboy self. I don’t want the status quo to change, so I let her believe it.
“You need to get out there sooner rather than later,” Coach says as he comes up next to me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“I’m not sure I’m ready.”
Coach sighs deeply. “You are, son, you’re just scared.”
“I’m not scared,” I lie.
I am scared. I’m fucking terrified.
“You are, and we both know it.”
“My leg doesn’t feel quite right yet.”
He shakes his head. “Brett, you were cleared by not only our doctors and staff but yours as well. The team physical therapists and the ones you hired have said you are ready. You’re scared, and that’s okay, but you need to overcome it. Otherwise, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I thought you liked my help,” I grit out, feeling trapped.
“You know I like your help. You’re good with the boys, and you know what you’re talking about, but you are even better on the ice.
You are one hell of a player, Brett. I don’t want to see you go out like this.
The ice is a cruel mistress. Sometimes you trip or get hurt, but sometimes you glide, and you just need to keep moving forward.
You fell, but this is when you get up and come back stronger than ever. ”
I get what he’s saying, I really do, but I don’t want to hear this motivational shit.
I’m not scared of getting on the ice. Not really, but when I’m here I can’t help but think about how much things have changed since I got hurt.
Not only did I lose out on a season, but I lost out on time with my boys.
Yeah, I lived with and got to hang out with Beckett and Clay, but we never got to play our senior year together.
They are gone now, drafted. Something we had planned on doing together but never got the chance. A small part of me feels robbed.
Even though Kellan and Wyatt are here, it’s not the same. They came after we did. They haven’t been here since the start.
Maybe a small part of me doesn’t want to get on the ice because I don’t want to play with a new team. Yeah, new guys come every year, but I’ve always had the guys from my year. It’s ridiculous, I know, but I can’t help it.
Coach slaps my shoulder. “Just think about it, please.”
“I will.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him walk away as he blows his whistle.
Looking back at the ice, I watch Kellan and Wyatt move toward us. They have smiles on their faces as they bump into each other. I can’t help but wonder what they are talking about. What inside joke I’m missing out on.
I know if I asked, they would gladly include me, but I can’t find it in me to care. Not really.
Just another thing that’s changed.
I’m a fucking mess.
Once Coach is done giving his motivational speech to the team, Wyatt and Kellan head toward me.
“You let two get by you,” I say to Wyatt, who is the team goalie.
He scoffs. “You need to get your eyes checked, nothing got past me.”
“Touchy touchy,” Kellan teases, making Wyatt roll his eyes.
“Why am I friends with you guys?” Wyatt mumbles.
“Because we’re fucking awesome,” Kellan tells him before looking at me. “You want to skate around?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m not ready yet.”
The guys share a look. I brace myself for their judgment, only it never comes.
Both of them nod.
“Then how about we go get some lunch? I’m fucking hungry,” Kellan says.
“I’m game,” Wyatt says.
They both look at me. The last thing I want to do is get lunch, but I know if I don’t, it will only raise their concern more.
“Fine, count me in, but no pizza.”
“Fine,” Kellan mutters.
“We will be out in fifteen,” Wyatt says as they brush past me to go shower and change.
While I wait for them, I stare at the ice.
I’ve missed it. The cool air hitting my cheeks as I skate around, the way fresh ice feels under my feet as I move. The adrenaline rush that hits when you slam someone into the boards.
All of it.
I miss all of it.
I’m just not ready to get back out there. Not yet.
“Does your leg feel okay?” Kellan asks as they join me.
I shake my head, not realizing I had been zoned out long enough for them to shower and change.
“Yeah, why?”
He looks down, and I follow his line of sight.
Shit, I’ve been absentmindedly rubbing my knee. It doesn’t even hurt, and yet I’m rubbing it.
“I’m fine. Let’s go before I change my mind,” I say as I stand.
Once again, they share a look, but I ignore it. Just like I always do.