Chapter Fifteen

KATYA

I ’ve been pacing in the waiting room of the urgent care center for what feels like an eternity.

Bryan’s been in with the doctor for ages. I’m trying not to think.

I’m trying not to think about him on the ice, terrified, howling in pain. The way it took me a moment to unfreeze, because the unmistakable sound of crying and injury, him splayed out on the ice like that, catapulted me back in time to Irina’s accident, the one that ended her career.

I’m trying not to think about him asking if we could triple. That I told him no.

The look on his face . I drag my hand across my eyes, trying to shake it off. The absolute idiot was more worried about ruining our press than the fact that his ankle was completely inwards.

Pozhaluysta. Please let this be minor. Please let him be okay.

The door swings open, and my head snaps up. “What did they say?”

Lian walks towards me, heaving a sigh. “It’s a sprain.”

Relief washes over me, knocking out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “A sprain.”

“But he won’t be able to skate for several weeks. And that’s not counting however long it takes to get back to regular schedule.”

The relief sours, my stomach sinking. Stupid . I was so busy worrying about a silly little injury that I’d completely forgotten about the big picture. If he can’t skate, then it doesn’t even matter.

Still, I pause, biting my lip. “Can I see him?”

Lian nods, gesturing behind her to the room.

I knock once before entering. “Hi.”

He glances up at me from the cot, blue eyes so sad it makes my stomach twist. “Hi,” he mumbles, averting his gaze.

“Are you…” I don’t say anything else. Both of us know there isn’t any point.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I ask, but not too angrily. I spot the boot encasing his ankle, and I’m about to ask how it feels when Bryan looks away.

“Katya, I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s not your fault.” It’s mine ! I want to scream, the sickening feeling building in my chest again.

“You’re kidding, right? If I could land these damn jumps without second-guessing myself every time, we’d be preparing for the competition, not sitting here.”

He’s still not looking at me. Something about how upset he looks makes me narrow my eyes.

If he’s going to be moping, I’m going to have to control myself. We can’t both be freaking out about this, otherwise we’ll never get back on track.

“Get it together, Young. This isn’t going to make it better.” I take a deep breath. “We deal with this. We come back better than before. We destroy everyone who tries to stand in our way.”

I’m half-expecting him to laugh or call me dramatic, but instead, determination slides across his face. “Sounds good to me.”

“ A are you gonna get the door, or are you just gonna let whoever it is knock forever?”

“Get it yourself!”

“Um, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I can’t exactly move!”

“I’m not about to be your personal chef, your nurse, and your doorman.”

“Come on, you know I’m very appreciative. And you know what would make me even more appreciative? Answering the damn door!”

“They clearly aren’t going anywhere if they’ve been waiting this long,” I reply, dumping the sliced banana off the cutting board into the cereal bowl.

As if on cue, more knocking ensues.

“Come on, please?”

I can hear him groaning from upstairs, and I huff. “Add this to the long list of things you owe me for.”

“Thank you, sunshine!”

Malenkoye dermo. “Work on your mobility exercises, quit playing video games.” The knocking continues more insistently, and I groan, putting the bowl of granola down and marching to the entryway.

I swing the door open. “What?”

Alexandra is standing there, headphones dangling out of one ear and a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry. I left my keys.”

I let out a laugh despite myself. “Get inside.”

“So? How’s our favorite invalid doing?” the strawberry blonde girl asks, stepping over the threshold and putting her backpack down.

As if on cue, another prolonged groan sounds from upstairs. I give her a look, and she bursts into giggles.

“Sometimes I wish he actually lived at his place.” She starts upstairs, then pauses. “Wanna come up? My Taylor vinyl finally shipped; we can listen if you want.”

I think she likes me .

“ I s your brother always this whiny when he's ill?” I nod in the direction of the door, once we’re safely locked away in Alexandra’s room.

It’s a perfect representation of her personality—twinkle lights everywhere, vinyls of everything from One Direction to The Ramones shelved by a record player, a Fearless poster, a bookshelf overflowing with pastel-colored paperbacks. “Because if so, I may quit now.”

Alexandra sits down after setting the player up, “Fortnight” playing softly in the background, then laughs. “Oh, yeah. When I was seven, I got him sick with chicken pox, and he was so mad at me for it he called me Pinky Pie for a year. You know, since we were both covered in pink spots?” She lets out another giggle. “He might be technically an adult, but I doubt he’s done much maturing since then.”

“Lucky me,” I mutter, and she snorts.

“Just so you know, he’s been less obnoxious than usual since you came around. I’m glad you’re whipping him into shape.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh, god, this is what he’s like when he’s less obnoxious?”

Alexandra grimaces. “Tell me about it. And, well, you know things haven’t been so hot the last few years. Lots of stuff going on. Parents. Skating. That whole Taylor Davis incident. You know ? ‘He’s done?’”

I’d heard about that one. Just one more reason to strangle that svolach commentator with his ugly neon ties if I ever get my hands on him.

Alexandra hesitates. “Listen…I know he can be a pain, but that’s the thing about Bry. He likes to play everything off as a joke, but he’s got a bad tendency of loving people who wouldn’t give a crap about him if it killed them.” There’s a dark look on her face. “It’s horrible. He’s too good for that. He just doesn’t see it.”

To say I think I’m missing something would be an understatement.

But then she clears her throat and smiles, attempting to ease the sudden tension. “But does he listen to me? Of course not. I’m just his baby sister, who he has to protect at all costs and won’t let me do the same for him. Typical.”

It really is. “A thought occurs to me. “Do you mind if I call you Sasha? It comes more naturally to me than Alex does. But only if it’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, sure,” she says with a surprised grin. “No one’s ever called me that.”

“It’s better than Pinky Pie.”

She shudders. “ Anything is better than Pinky Pie.”

A lexandra has to finish her schoolwork, so I figure I can go back into Bryan’s room.

To check on him and make sure he hasn’t found a way to die in the last fifteen minutes. Of course. What other reason would there be?

However, he’s being delusional, assuming that the reason I didn’t want him to have any visitors is because I want him to myself. Of course it wouldn’t have anything to do with both the doctor and Lian stressing that he should not be excited in any way.

“Young, if you ask me if I’m jealous one more time…”

He laughs, sitting up and pulling his t-shirt over his head. I don’t remember to look away in time, and feel my face flush.

“You are so definitely jealous,” he teases, reaching over the side to grab a clean shirt and yanking it on.

I force myself to stop staring. “You wish.”

“Look at you! You’re blushing!” He’s laughing at me. He’s enjoying this.

“I’m blushing because you’re making my blood pressure skyrocket, mudak ,” I shoot back, willing my face to go back to normal color. And also because you look disgustingly good for someone who’s spent a week rotting in bed, but you don’t need to know that.

Bryan just grins at me. “Uh huh. Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, partner.”

I look at him with disdain. He is absolutely ridiculous, and the worst part is that he revels in it. “You know you sound like a cowboy when you say ‘partner’ like that, right?”

“And you sound like Ivan Drago whenever you say anything, so I think we’re even.”

“You’re so funny. I would laugh, but I am a bit busy trying to win the Olympics.”

“You need to relax for, like, thirty seconds. It might do you some good.”

“Relaxing is for losers.”

He groans. “Oh, god!”

“It’s true!”

“It is not. You know what, the second I get out of this boot and I can walk around without medical intervention, we’re going out. I’m going to show you how to actually have a good time.”

“I know how to have a good time,” I protest, and Bryan wags a finger.

“You wouldn’t know a good time if it walked up to you and kissed you on the mouth. So? We agree?”

“Debatable,” I grumble, and he grins.

“That’s…not a no.”

I glare at him, but his stupid, smug smile just gets bigger.

“Oh my god. You’re really saying yes.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I interject.

“But you didn’t say no!”

He has me there, and he knows it. “Shut up.”

“Great comeback, sunshine.” He winces, stretching out his bad foot slightly.

I notice. “How’s it feeling?’

“Not the greatest. Better, though. I’ll probably be able to get back to work next week if I’m lucky.” He rolls his eyes. “A man can dream.”

“Let’s hope so. We fly out for our competition in—”

“Don’t remind me,” Bryan mumbles, burying his face in the pillow, and I pull it off of him, or try to, because he just holds on tighter like a toddler with a security blanket. I yank a little harder, and it finally gives.

“Come on!”

“You are seriously a child.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway. Speaking of which, thanks for being here. I forgot to say it earlier. I appreciate you caring about me.”

What else was I supposed to do? Let my partner rot in his house while I sat around waiting for his ankle to heal so we could get back on the ice—especially when it’s my fault he’s even here? He wouldn’t be injured if I hadn’t forced him to do the quad.

Anyway, it has less to do with him and more to do with the fact that I am probably the least patient person on the planet. It doesn’t have anything to do with him. This is what we— I —have to do to win. Right. “What makes you think I care about you?”

A flicker of hurt passes across his face—he tries to cover it up, but I don’t miss it. And, bizarrely enough, I feel a rush of guilt. These things jump out of my mouth before I can stop them.

I didn’t mean it like that! The words are dangerously close to jumping out of my mouth.

But you did, a voice in my head reminds me. It doesn’t matter anyway. Stop getting distracted.

Before I can make up my mind, Bryan shakes his head. “I still can’t believe that reporter called elements tricks . What are we, circus animals?”

d . “Well, if you ask Lian, yes.” I smile despite myself. We’re having a normal conversation, but something about his endless energy is contagious—like being around a walking, talking sugar rush. “Although you are a little bit like a dog, you have to admit.” Hyper, affectionate and protective.

“Excuse me? I don’t smell.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Your gym bag begs to differ.”

“Shut up!” He grabs my arms and pulls me forward onto the bed over him, digging his fingers into my ribs, and I scream, flailing and scrambling to get out of reach.

“Let go!”

Of course, he just starts tickling me even more viciously, and I shriek at the top of my lungs, kicking furiously without any consideration of my surroundings.

“Ow! Crap, my ankle, ow—” He clutches at his boot, and I widen my eyes, whirling around to look at him under me. Oh, no.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you—”

He starts grinning. I stop short, my mouth falling open.

“You should see your face right now,” Bryan says, absolutely giddy, and I grab the tissue box from the nightstand and smack him in the face with it.

“Ow!” he protests, and I glare down at him.

“You are unbelievable.”

“You were so worried,” he teases, practically giggling, and I shove him in the chest, grabbing a pillow and raising it.

“I will smother you with this.”

“You were scared!”

“You are the one who should be scared right now.” My face is probably three-alarm red right now. I shove him harder.

“Okay, okay! Stop hitting me!”

“Apologize,” I demand, picking up the tissue box again and holding it above his head threateningly, and Bryan takes my elbows, lowering them and keeping his hands there as he keeps them gently pinned to my waist.

“I’m very sorry,” he says, not even a trace of sarcasm in his voice, blue eyes solemn and brows slightly furrowed the way they get whenever he’s being genuine. He rubs my elbows, tilting his head to the side as he looks up through his (stupidly long!) lashes at me, just…watching me, in a way that isn’t creepy but still manages to freak me out. Which is exactly when I realize that I’m basically sitting on top of him.

My mind goes blank. Thankfully I recover quickly, and I clear my throat, shifting and rolling off of him, sitting up straight at the edge of the bed. “I have to go. I said I would get the groceries for Lian this week.”

His lips curl into a smile. “Good idea. Believe me, you do not want to be late on chores in the Chen household.”

I snort, turning my head to look back at him, completely lazy and reclined, body stretched out across his bed with the boot sticking out from the edge of the sheets. “Exactly.” But what he says, along with all the strangeness of Alexandra’s comments, reminds me of something I’d completely forgotten about until right now. “Why were you there, anyway? I don’t think you ever said.”

He flicks his gaze back to me, no longer relaxed. He clears his throat, sitting up slightly. “What?”

I shrug. It isn’t out of the norm for skaters to move in with their coaches. It’s more convenient in intensive programs like mine, or when it’s too far to make the drive every day. “Why did you live with her? It isn’t like her place is any closer than this.” Actually, it might be even closer than Lian’s townhouse. So it doesn’t make any sense.

Neither does the look on Bryan’s face—like he’s scared. “I don’t know.”

I almost laugh. “What?”

“I mean—” Bryan cuts himself off with a sigh, running an aggressive hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”

“Everything’s complicated with you,” I say, and I mean it teasingly, but it doesn’t come out that way.

The corner of his mouth turns up. “True.” He might be smiling, but it doesn’t come out that way, either. “Guess I get it from my mom and dad.”

“You don’t talk about them much,” I say before I can stop myself.

Blin .