Chapter 19: The Last Quiet Night

The draw for the short program was held at four o'clock, in a room with a long table and a bowl of numbered balls.

Theo's coach pulled ours.

We would skate last of the pairs, the final slot of the night.

Kessler and Lindell would skate immediately before us.

"Good," Theo said, flat. "Then we can watch."

By eleven that night I was lying awake in the dark, with his arm across my waist.

The city outside the hotel window glowed orange.

I got up quietly and stood at the glass.

I had been on a plane that morning with a shoebox on my lap.

Theo's coach had handed it to me at the gate without a word.

I had carried two tiny skates all the way here, because she said somebody would want them.

It sat on the dresser now with its lid shut.

I heard the bed shift behind me.

"You're not sleeping," Theo said.

"No."

"You're allowed not to."

He came up behind me and put his arms around my waist, and his chin came down on my shoulder.

He was warm and bare.

I leaned back against him.

"There's something I haven't told you," I said.

"Rule three."

"Rule three is dead. You killed it in a stadium."

I felt him smile against my neck.

"Go on."

"I never wanted gold," I said.

He was quiet.

"I wanted it because Wyatt did. I wanted to be what he needed on the day."

"For eighteen years I said we want this. I never once said I want this."

"And now?"

"Now I want it."

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