Chapter Twenty-Three

KATYA

OCTOBER

AMERICAN PRIX—COLUMBUS, OHIO

“ O kay, um, I might just have blocked it out, but I definitely don’t remember there being this many people the last time I was at an international competition,” Bryan says nervously.

Lian raises a brow, lips quirking. “That’s because you’ve never been to a senior level one. Welcome to the big leagues, kid.”

I may have spent five seasons in the big leagues by now, but even I’m starting to feel it. Even I’m starting to get a bit itchy at the thought of all the people here watching us today. And whenever I look at my partner, I remember the silence after his outburst back home.

Once he’d finally gotten it out of his system, it was like all the air had gone out of him, like when you fill up a balloon and let it go, the air rushing out and propelling it across the room until it falls splat to the ground in a wrinkly latex husk. I’ve never seen him like that before. Sure, after rough skates, he’ll be grumpy, he’ll be tired, but never like that. Never so…wrung out.

I don’t want him to look like that. I’m the one that’s supposed to be in a terrible mood all the time. And if we want to do well for the rest of this season, we both need to be on top of our game. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but for both our sakes, we need to get our act together. So if it takes me giving him a break sometimes, I’ll do it. I’ll listen more. I’ll be a little more understanding. It can’t be that hard, right?

But I can’t even think about that, either, because ever since yesterday it’s like I’ve been walking underwater. Because it doesn’t even matter that this event is being broadcasted back home. They’re all here.

Half my old teammates have somehow managed to get on one or both of the same Prix assignments as us—every top-level skater gets two, aside from the Final if they end up getting enough points to get invited. Meaning Vanya, Anna, and Polina are all in the building right now, accompanied by Mikhail and Tatyana.

It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise when I saw them in the hotel lobby after dinner last night. Honestly, it was so stupid. Of course they’re here; it’s not as if everyone else’s world changed when mine did. But my stomach still dropped to the floor. I was frozen. All I could do was stare blankly at all of them laughing and talking away in their Team Russia jackets, as if I’d never even been there at all.

But it doesn’t matter. Really. I’m not going up against them, so maybe things can be different. I need to stop being so damn sensitive. After all, in the end, what they did to me was just business, it wasn’t personal. Otherwise Tatyana would have let me stay. Sure, only Misha, Anna and Vanya have answered my texts in the last six months, and only sporadically, but maybe if I can just talk to them—

“Katya!”

I snap my head up. “Sorry?”

Lian is squinting at me. “Where have you been? You didn’t hear any of that, did you?”

I can feel my face burning . Get it together, Ekaterina. “No. I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

“Well, good, get it out of your system, because from this moment on, there is zero room for anything in your head other than your program. There’s one more team left after this one before you two go on, so prepare yourselves.”

I can feel Bryan glance over at me oddly, clearly suspicious of my zoning out but not saying anything. Not yet, at least.

He always notices everything. He always looks out for everyone else’s moods; it’s one of the things I’ve always found bizarre about him. I guess I’m not a good enough person to understand how someone can be constantly undervalued and overlooked and still continue to care about everyone else’s feelings, even if those people haven’t given a shit about his.

Including me. I’m self-aware enough to know that, at least.

There’s times when you wonder if anything you do ever really matters in the long run. Even though half of my brain is still running overdrive plotting how we’re going to win this thing, I’m still dizzy with that indescribable homesick feeling, that longing for back when you still felt you had a place in this world. A purpose. A reason to keep on going. It doesn’t even really matter, but I just wish it didn’t make me question so much about my life, everything I’ve done. About myself. Because, really, once you take away the titles and the medals—what else is there?

Just a girl. A girl with no home. Nothing more.

I like to tell myself I’m used to it.

“Are you ready for this?” Bryan asks me, and I clear my throat.

“We have to be.”

“ Yes! Yes, oh my god!” Bryan yells, crushing me with a hug that cuts off my air supply for a second until he frees me and does the same to our coaches.

“That’s a new personal best,” I say, feeling a smile start to spread, and Lian nods, raising an eyebrow.

“And it’s going to keep getting better.”

“I can’t believe this, we just won a Prix title,” Bryan says, eyes wide. “We did it. We actually did it!”

“Okay, breathe, it’s only bronze,” I say, but even I can’t resist his smile. “We still have much work to do.”

“Oh, shut up, Andreyeva,” Bryan says, leaning in and kissing my cheek. “You are such a freaking buzzkill.”

“I am practical.” I’m also trying not to be idiotically giddy at the fact that he doesn’t seem to be angry with me anymore, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“And I am going to sleep,” Lian announces, and we all laugh, filing out of the waiting room towards the exit.

“Enjoy your nap,” Juliet says, before turning to us with a mischievous look. “As for the rest of us, I think it’s time to celebrate.”

“You got booze?” Bryan says hopefully, and Juliet laughs.

“It’s called room service, honey. Come on, let’s go.”

My partner turns to me. “I love having adult friends.”

“You’re almost twenty-one,” I point out, and he blanches.

“I forgot about that.” He lifts a shoulder, sliding me his signature sunshine smile. “Oops? Whatever. Let’s go.”

“ A nd then she says, Jules, you have the emotional acuity of a plastic spoon,” our assistant coach is telling us, gasping through fits of laughter. “And I said, why the hell are you quoting Harry Potter to me right now?”

“God, why are we like this?” Bryan says, grinning ear to ear. “What is it with competitive figure skaters and being absolutely fucked in the head?”

“What a shame. Hell, I’ll toast to that, though.” Juliet raises her glass. “I love you, but I am so glad it’s you competing and not me. I went crazy under all those lights.” She seems almost sad for a second, but then she looks back at us, and she’s smiling again. “To Andreyeva and Young.”

We raise our glasses, and I glance at Bryan. “May everything we touch turn to gold.”

A fter a while, I can feel the alcohol and the adrenaline rushing to my brain.

Bryan is face-down on the floor, face smushed against the carpet and the tiniest of snores escaping him. Juliet is curled up in the armchair, eyes lidded and heavy with sleep.

I stretch slowly, limbs feeling twice their usual weight. I crack my neck, feeling like my body’s moving through quicksand. God . This is why I don’t get drunk during the season. I wince as the thudding in my head seems to become more and more insistent behind my eyes.

Then I’m wide awake.

No, no, no. I raise a hand to my head, as if it’ll do any good, and the other to my mouth as I stumble along the room, feeling against the wall, looking for the first dark enclave I can find. I finally fumble at the bathroom handle and let myself in, practically collapsing onto the floor, drawing myself up and burying my head between my knees. A debilitating wave of nausea sweeps over me, and I gag, pressing my hands tighter to my temples, feeling the wetness leak out of my eyes and down my arms. Why ? Why now? Why tonight? I haven’t had one since—Sanjiv promised me this wouldn’t happen—

I sit there for who knows how long, waiting for the relief that doesn’t seem to come, trying to hold on and just get through it instead of attempting in vain to fight what’s already happening.

And then, as if things couldn’t possibly get worse, I hear the sound of a knock at the door.

“Katya? You in there?”