Chapter 46
~The Canadian Championships~
~Hudson~
No matter how many times I compete, something about stepping onto the ice at the national championships always feels special.
Worlds are amazing too, but no one expects me to medal, so the pressure isn’t as intense.
Hopefully next year, I’ll find out what the Olympics are like.
But for now, Canadians are my make-or-break moment for the year, the competition that determines my place in the deep pool of talent that makes up the men’s figure skating field in this country.
The competition is broadcast on national TV and streamed live online. Across the country and around the world, people are watching and waiting to see who’s going to come out on top.
Last year, I came second by the narrowest of margins, earning myself a spot at Worlds.
This year, I want to prove to the judges and everyone else that I’m closer to Keaton’s level than I am to the skaters below me and that I deserve to be challenging for the title.
I’ve been working damn hard all year for this moment, but then again, so has everyone else on the ice with me. All I can do now is skate my best.
“Are you ready for this?” Ryder asks as he joins me on the practice ice. He’s part of the 4-man team from Riverbend competing in the senior men’s field. Besides the two of us, there’s Dylan, a newer skater at the club who just moved up to senior level, and Keaton.
“Is anyone ever ready?” I throw back at him, and he gives me a rueful smile.
“Glad to know it’s not just me.”
He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and heads out to start his warm-up while I skate over to my coach at the boards.
“We need to get that quad under you on this ice, early and often,” Rick reminds me. It’s going to be the difference between battling Keaton for the gold medal or fighting for a place on the podium. “Let’s try it out whenever you’re ready.”
I give him a nod and start to circle the ice, bending deep into my knees to get a feel for the ice at the competition arena.
It’s a little harder than the ice at Riverbend, but not enough that it should throw me off too much.
A group of die-hard fans cheer as I skate by and I give them a wave, much to their delight.
“I love you, Hudson!”
“You’re going to win this year!”
The shouts make me smile, mostly because I know they probably wouldn’t be saying that if Keaton had the same practice time as me.
My family flies in tomorrow, in time for the short program, so they’re not here today, and even though I know Riley’s still back in Edmonton, I find myself scanning the seats for a glimpse of her anyway.
With her own national championships coming up next weekend, she could only get one day off, so she’ll only be here for the free skate, the final performance of the competition.
That just means I need to get myself into a competitive position after the short program so when she comes to watch, she’ll have something to cheer for.
I’m about to bring my attention back to the ice when a figure in the stands catches my eye: a woman sitting by herself in an empty section, wearing a pale pink coat with long, blonde hair draped in two braids over her shoulders.
The distance between us makes it impossible for me to see her face, but her appearance startles me so much that I lose track of where I am.
“Watch out!”
Wind blows past me as one of the other skaters swerves to the side to avoid a collision. He throws a well-deserved glare at me over his shoulder as he passes.
“Shit. Sorry.” I call out the apology to his back as he skates away, and nearly run into the boards when I turn back, having completely lost my position on the ice.
Get it together, Hudson. It can’t be her. You know that’s impossible.
Holding onto the boards, I close my eyes and take two deep breaths, in and out, before daring to look back up into the stands where the lone woman sits.
The area is completely empty.
What the fuck?
“Hudson? Are you okay? What’s going on?”
Rick jogs up to where I’m standing, obviously having watched my loss of focus in real time.
“Nothing. Nothing’s going on. I’m fine.” I do my best to sound reassuring but honestly, I’m rattled. That was weird, and not knowing whether I imagined the whole thing freaks me out more than anything.
“Is the quad playing with your head?” he presses, and I shake my head fervently in response.
“It’s not the jump, I promise. I just got distracted. Give me a minute and I’ll get it back.”
He takes me at my word, stepping back while I take a couple more cleansing breaths, just like my therapist has trained me to do.
When I feel steadier, I start my warm-up again, ignoring the crowd this time.
Spotting an opening, I set up for my jump, putting all my determination into it, and manage to squeak out a shaky quad Salchow; far from perfect, but fully rotated.
“Good,” Rick confirms when I skate by. “Let’s do it again.”
I land the second one, fall on the third, and step out of the fourth. My body gets tenser with each pass and no matter how much I try to stop them, my eyes keep drifting up to the spot where I saw the blonde woman. Her seat remains empty.
“Your music is up next,” Rick tells me.
Each of the skaters gets a chance to run through their short program, and frustratingly, I triple the quad during mine. The rest of the jumps are solid, but I know that without the quad, it’s going to be a minimum of ten points behind Keaton’s program.
“It doesn’t count,” Rick reminds me, banging his hands on the board in encouragement. “It’ll be better tomorrow.”
I hope so, but when the practice session comes to an end and I glance back up into the crowd one more time, I see her again. She’s back in the same seat, still with the same pink coat and braids, her head bowed as she looks down at something.
As fast as humanly possible, I change out of my skates into my sneakers and jog up into the stands.
By the time I get there, she’s gone again and I run a frustrated hand through my sweaty hair.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call, and when I see Riley’s name on the screen, a little of the tightness in my chest eases.
“Hey! Perfect timing, I just got off the ice.”
“I know. I checked your schedule.” Her warm, teasing tone helps to loosen the tension in my shoulders even more. “How did it go? You sound a little stressed. Are you stressed?”
I glance up at the empty seat once more, wishing I could tell her what’s bothering me. But since Riley doesn’t know the first thing about Sophie, how can I explain that I thought I saw her watching me today?