Chapter 26 Evan #3
“I’m the worst?” He sounds almost hysterical. “Me? I’m not the one who almost kills innocent bystanders.”
“No, just the one who tries to sabotage other skaters, publicly outs them, and then reports it when they - very justifiably - punch you over it.” Normally, I wouldn’t have added the last, because I don’t think violence solves anything, but right now?
Right now, I’m about a heartbeat away from beating the shit out of him myself.
His face crumples a bit, surprising me. All the rage that was fueling both of us into practically screaming seems to drain out of him. “Yeah, the picture thing was shitty of me. I know. It wasn’t just to take him down, though. I really didn’t want you to get hurt.”
This is the second time he’s said something along those lines. “Why would I get hurt?”
Alexandre explodes, anger lighting him up again. “Don’t be an idiot, Evan. His first reaction is to punch someone. How long before you’re the one on the receiving end?”
Well, hell. Was part of Alexandre trying to help me? Was he worried about me? It's like I've just realized the sky is green and the grass is blue. The whole world is upside down.
"Alexandre—" What? What do I follow that up with? I don't forgive him. I can't forgive him. But everything is starting to make a little more sense.
"Forget it," he says, turning away again, stomping further into the building.
To my own astonishment, I run after him. "Alexandre, wait. Why didn't you just talk to me?"
After a few steps, he stops and turns around again. "I tried."
"Not very hard. You could have just told me what you were worried about. You didn’t have to destroy his life in the process."
Alexandre shakes his head, then points to his jaw. "He punched me again, Evan. He hasn't changed. He's not a safe person to be around. He deserves to be behind bars, not getting gold medals."
My head is shaking, matching his. "No, Alexandre, he has changed. I promise you, he is not the man he used to be. I don't think he was that man even then. He just—the pressure was too much. And after what happened at the Olympics…"
"Evan, can you even hear yourself?" He takes my arms, shaking me lightly. "You're making excuses for him. You're acting exactly like..." He trails off, but the unspoken words ring between us. Someone suffering from domestic violence.
Except that's not what's happening. Not what will happen.
Everything I said is the absolute truth, but how do you prove a negative?
No matter what I say, Alexandre will still believe it just hasn't happened yet.
That even if I haven't been in danger so far, it doesn't mean I won't be.
Technically, he'd be right; there's no way to be absolutely certain who somebody is, not really.
I would trust Stefan with my life, though, and everything in me is sure I'm correct in my assessment.
I'm opening my mouth, trying to come up with whatever I'm going to say next, when running footsteps skid to a halt near us. "Evan!" This time it is the league coach for Skate Canada, and he looks pissed off. "What the hell are you doing? You're supposed to be in there."
Oh crap. I was already running late, and we've been standing here arguing for who knows how long. "Has my warm-up started yet?" Do I forfeit if I miss it, or just my call to compete?
The coach shakes his head. "No, you have about five minutes. Where the hell have you been? We’re counting on you, and you’re out here…" He’s practically seething at me, waving his arm in some kind of area-encompassing gesture.
Alexandre looks at me, and his eyes are as wide as I'm sure mine are. "Come on. We've got to get you ready." He sprints back to my bag, scooping it up, and both of us race the rest of the way to the warm-up room, where he helps me lace up my boots in record time.
Thank God no laces snap, even with both of us yanking on them like it’s the end of the world.
I make it into line seconds before my name is announced.
I've never been this rushed before a competition, and I never want to be again.
On the ice, everything feels off. The audience is loud, appreciative, but a thin murmur over the rushing of my heart.
I haven't warmed up properly, mentally prepared myself, visualized my routine at all in the past half hour.
My first attempt at a jump goes so awry I end up crashing into the boards.
Afterward, I stop trying to warm up the way I usually do and go back to the basics.
I just need to get my feet under me again.
A few trips around for my feet to realign with my skates, to the ice underneath them.
It should be second nature for me, my skates an extension of my body, almost more like my feet than the real ones.
Right now, though, they're like lumps of lead sliding without direction.
I move into an easy step sequence, not even a level one, just enough to get my body moving, halfway stumbling over my crossovers. By the time I'm done with that, they're calling us back in.
I am so screwed.