Chapter 20: Left

The arena held twelve thousand people, and every seat in the lower bowl was taken.

Theo and I stood in the tunnel by the boards, in our costumes, waiting for the pair before us to finish.

My hands had gone cold the way they always did.

Theo took them without a word and put them between his own, and rubbed them from the wrist to the fingertips and back.

"Rule one," I said.

"Dead."

"Good."

Out on the ice, the announcer said, "Representing the United States, Paige Lindell and Wyatt Kessler."

I had told myself I would not watch.

I watched.

They skated to center ice and took their opening pose, and Wyatt's hand rested on Paige's waist with a care that I knew.

I knew what it cost him to place it.

The music started.

Through the opening phrase they were good.

They were better than good, and I felt something go through me that was not quite grief.

Paige skated on his right, where the count had always been.

Wyatt turned his head toward her voice, and they went through the first spin together, and the crowd made its small happy noise.

"She's counting him," Theo said, very low.

"She learned."

"From you."

"From watching."

Then the music changed, and the choreography moved her to his left.

I saw Wyatt's head turn.

He turned it right, toward the empty ice, searching.

Paige was a foot from his shoulder on the left, and he did not see her.

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