Chapter 8
CONNOR
There are two kinds of falls in figure skating. The first is, at its base, due to gravity. There is blood and bone involved, and you’re made humble by the slick apathy of the ice. That one hurts, but you tape it and move on.
The second is more insidious, and I can’t tell if it’s better or worse, because the bruise is on the inside.
The minute Grace didn’t launch into her jump correctly, my stomach cratered.
I knew I was too far away to catch her. There was nothing to do but watch her crash down hard onto the ice in front of thousands of people.
But then she stood up so fast the whole thing almost looked planned.
Except there weren’t hip guards under her costume. And there was pain under the smile she flashed at the audience.
Now she’s rushing out of the arena to hide. Which is how I know she must be more hurt than she let on to our director.
I follow her out of the dressing room and into the various backstage corridors.
“Grace,” I call.
She stops dead, so abrupt another cast member almost slams into her. She doesn’t turn. Doesn’t have to—omegas can sense an alpha coming from fifty yards and hate it every step.
I jog to catch up. “Are you okay?”
She finally looks at me with her brown eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You hit pretty hard. Didn’t want to leave without making sure you’re—” I don’t finish, because Grace’s glare could sand paint off a car.
“Connor, you’re not my dad. Or my coach. Or my—” She catches herself, the word pack stuck in her teeth. She sucks in a breath. “If every time I take a spill, you’re gonna play alpha, we’re both in for a long summer.”
“It’s not ‘playing alpha,’ it’s being considerate.”
Grace snorts loudly. “Now you want to be considerate?”
Any remaining cast in the hallway go silent and leave us alone. Nobody wants to be caught in this crossfire. Even Charlotte didn’t follow Grace out here.
“Okay,” I say, “okay. I’m sorry. I just— That fall looked like it hurt, and I thought—” I gesture, helpless.
Grace’s jaw tightens. “I’m fine. I’ve been falling my whole life. It’s how you get good.”
“I know.”
She keeps her eyes on me, just long enough to make it hurt. “Then why are you hovering?”
I open my mouth, and for once, words don’t rush in. I want to say Because I care. Or Because this is all my fault, and if I could take the fall for you, I would. But what comes out is, “It’s not about the fall. It’s about how you looked before it.”
She flushes, color high on her cheeks. “I was off-balance. It happens.”
“No, not your body. I mean your head. You looked—” I catch myself, but it’s too late.
She narrows her eyes. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Connor. I’m not some experiment for your pack to poke at.”
That’s fair. I swallow it. “I’m still allowed to care about you. You matter, Grace.”
Grace doesn’t flinch, but she doesn’t smile, either. “If that’s true, why’d you try to get me kicked out in the spring?”
She says it so casual, it almost sounds like a joke. But the memory lands like a sucker punch: three alphas turning on the only omega who’s ever matched them stride for stride. The room swims for a second. I didn’t think she’d ever say it out loud inside Reverie’s walls.
“We were scared,” I offer miserably. “That’s not an excuse. But that’s the truth.” A weak one months too late.
Grace’s mouth twists. “Congratulations. You got what you wanted. Maybe Director Hannah kicks me out after all for falling.” She sighs heavily, then, “Are we done here?” She’s already walking away from me.
I keep pace, half a step behind. “Let me walk you to your apartment.”
She stops again. “Why? You think I’ll fall down on the sidewalk, too?”
“No, I just—I want to make sure you’re okay.”
She stares at me. “I don’t need a pack. Or an escort. I need you to stop acting like I’m your problem.”
I grit my teeth. I want to argue, but I also want to respect what she’s saying. “Fine. You’re not my problem. But you are my friend.”
Grace’s lips twitch. “Sure. We can be friends, Connor. If by ‘friends’ you mean castmates and nothing more.”
And then she’s gone, walking on back to her apartment alone. I don’t try to catch up. I’m nowhere near as resilient as her.
How are we going to get through the next three months if this is how night one of shows went? Even if Grace trusts me on the ice, she’ll never let me anywhere near her off the ice ever again. She’s made that very clear.
I didn’t exactly expect her to forgive us and for Zev, Fowler, and I to suddenly want Grace anyway. So why the hell does this hurt so much? Why is it all so confusing?
I roughly mess up my hair and then leave the arena myself. But I can’t bring myself to walk in the direction of the cast apartments just to see Grace at a distance again.
Any distance between us feels like hell.
One I deserve.