Chapter Thirty-Seven

brYAN

S omething's going on.

I mean it. Katya’s been acting kind of funny, and the fact that she’s here at the rink by herself when I get here, looking like she’s been here for a while, is only serving to make me more worried.

It’s been a few days since we got back to Lake Placid, and she’s barely spoken five words to me. I’m sure she's in her head, freaking out that we won’t be ready in time for Helsinki. And it's making me freak out.

I just want her to be okay. Not just because we skate better when she’s okay, but because—I mean, she’s my partner. I care. A lot.

It’s fine. We’ve all been stressed out lately. The pressure’s on, with the Prix Final coming up, and Nationals right after that, and then the Olympics right after that. Who wouldn’t be stressed? It’s totally fine. Besides, all of us are going out tonight; so we can all let loose a little. We just have to get through this weirdness, and everything will go back to normal.

So here I am, standing out in front of Lian's, itching in my dress shirt and tie from a combination of tight collar and impatience. We were supposed to leave for the banquet fifteen minutes ago—the AFSC always does an event for the national team right before we head out for the tail end of the season, although it’s been years since I’ve actually been invited. I’m about to go inside and drag Katya out myself when, on cue, I hear her voice come from behind me.

“Did you get the car yet?”

I turn around, opening my mouth to tell her that, yes, I did order it, and to stop bossing me around when she’s the one that’s been taking forever, but nothing comes out.

It’s grey.

That’s all I can process for a second, because holy…wow. Once my initial, uh, shock wears off, I can wrap my head around the details. It’s pretty simple—it’s some satiny material the color of storm clouds, the color of her eyes, with a long skirt. Her hair’s piled up at the back, the messiest I’ve ever seen it, strands of light red curling softly around her face.

My god. This girl really is going to kill me.

Katya pauses halfway down the stairs and looks me up and down, a familiar glint in her eye. “You look good.”

I pick my jaw up from the floor, clearing my throat and recovering just in time for me to smirk at her, holding my hand out for her to take. “You don’t clean up half bad yourself.”

She takes it, walking down the last few steps until she’s at my level. Which is exactly how I know she’s wearing heels—for once, I don’t have to look down to see her face. That might be a problem, considering she looks absolutely gorgeous, and there’s no way she hasn’t noticed that I’ve noticed.

She raises a single eyebrow. “Like what you see, Young?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Andreyeva,” I say, bowing dramatically like we’re at the end of a performance, offering my arm. “Shall we?”

Katya dips into a curtsy, pretending not to be amused even though I can fully see the smile she’s valiantly trying to fight off. “Mudak.”

She takes my arm anyway.

“I can’t believe you’re not wearing a jacket,” my partner grumbles.

“Oops?” I say innocently, but she and I both know I purposefully left it behind. A collared shirt and tie are enough to send me crazy, and the last time I wore a suit—my high school graduation—I got so overstimulated I made myself bleed from all the scratching.

Katya huffs, lifting her skirt so she doesn’t trip. “I look ridiculously overdressed now. Juliet said to dress nice, this is the only nice thing I own.”

“Sorry, sunshine. I promise I’ll bring the penguin suit next time.”

It doesn’t make her laugh. Suddenly she looks almost anxious.

I tilt my head at her. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“What?” she asks, a little too quickly. “What are you talking about? Of course you can wear it next time.”

“Katya, come on. Just spit it out.”

She flicks her gaze over at me, then starts walking to the door. “I can’t.”

“Come on, I won’t make fun of you. It can’t possibly be worse than any of the dumb shit I’ve done.”

“Which time?”

“ Exactly .”

Katya gives me a look, and I grin. “Come on, you know it’s true.”

She worries her lip, then exhales heavily. “I just—forget it. I’m sorry. About these last few days. It’s just…” She trails off in the way that lets me know she doesn’t really know how to handle this either, and it’s weirdly comforting.

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for apologizing. The car’s two minutes away.” I pause, taking her hand and lacing our fingers together. “You look nice.” More than nice.

She smiles. A real smile, not the half-smirks and brush-offs she’s been hitting me with these last few days. “You too.”

“Even without the suit?” I joke, and she rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling.

Tonight is going to be different. I think we might be moving forward again.

W e have the time of our lives, forgetting we’re world class athletes for just one night.

One night of dancing and food and having fun, like we’re not carrying the weight of our whole careers, our whole lives, all the pressure from our families and federations on our shoulders. For one night, we’re not Andreyeva and Young, Team USA. We’re just Katya and Bryan. We’re just us.

“The girls want me to go with them to stalk some guy they think is Nina’s soulmate,” Katya tells me as I spin her around, and I smirk.

“Oh, god, you’re never going to get away from them now. Not if you join the delusion squad.”

“I heard that!” Nina yells from halfway across the ballroom, and I laugh.

“Then you know it’s true!”

Juliet boos me. “Don’t listen to him! We’re more fun, anyway!”

I pout, and Katya giggles, starting to walk away. “I’ll be right back.”

“No, don’t abandon me,” I groan, still holding onto her hand.

“I’m not going anywhere, Yasha.”

“Promise?”

“I’ll be right back!”

I let go, and she bounds across the room to Nina and Juliet, who shriek and hug her before dragging her out of the room with them.

“Bry?” Ollie says, voice uncertain, and I turn around to see an oddly pale version of my best friend.

I crease my eyebrows. “You good? You need to sit or something?”

“No, it’s fine. Listen, I need to talk to you.”

“What, now?”

“Yeah, like, right now. It’s urgent.”

“Urgent like the time you needed me to choose between two identical shirts for your date with Ski Guy? Or the time you needed me to come pick you up from CVS? Or the time you interrupted my Do Not Disturb While Driving to send me a TikTok you’d literally shown me four times already?”

My best friend shakes his head. “Bryan, I’m being serious.”

I pause. He does look weirdly tense. “What’s up?”

“It’s a long story, but I had to sneak into the coatroom to get the La Mer from Nins’ bag—”

“Do I really want to hear the rest of this story?”

“Just listen to me, alright? Turns out I was looking in the wrong bag, since I guess Katya's is identical, and—”

Okay, I definitely do not want to hear the rest of this story. I plug my ears. “Lalalalala—“

“She’s leaving, Bryan!”

What?

I take my hands off my ears. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s going back to Russia. She’s going back to her old team.”

What ? I scoff. “Of course she isn’t. We just got back."

“I guess something must have changed.”

Katya leaving? The idea is so bizarre I can’t even picture it. Maybe before, but not now. No way. “Ollie, come on. They don’t want her anyway, remember?”

“I’m not joking around. I swear. Look.” He pulls out his phone, then pulls up a picture from his camera roll, handing it to me.

It’s a plane ticket, from JFK to Moscow.

With her name on it.

“I…” Any other time, I’d be more worried about the fact that my best friend is now apparently a stalker, but my brain is busy running a million miles a minute, trying to think of an explanation. “It’s probably just her ticket from when we went.” It makes sense. You should see all the shit in her bag. For such a neat freak, she’s terrible at throwing things away.

“Look at the date. It’s tomorrow , Bryan. She didn’t say anything about this? Even about visiting her family again or something?”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “Seriously, man. Is this a prank or something? Did you and Nina print this out?”

Ollie winces. “Bry…”

My stomach plummets through the floor.

I slowly turn around, hearing the door swing open, and I see Katya there, walking back in with the girls, a laugh on her lips. She sees me, and her eyes brighten for a split second before she processes the look on my face.

And the look on her own tells me all I need to know.