Chapter 72

Chapter 72

“Why do you and Heath deserve to go to the Games again?”

Everyone fell silent, cameras at the ready to record my response to Ellis.

The question seemed like a blatant provocation—bait dangled to entice me into an arrogant, scorched-earth speech proclaiming that Shaw and Rocha were the best, that they’d be idiots to leave us off the team, that we were sure to wipe the floor with our competition in Sochi.

But Ellis wasn’t holding a microphone or a camera. He wasn’t trying to set me up to spark some easy clickbait. He was giving me a chance—to remind the world of our past accomplishments, to plead for understanding about our coach’s medical emergency, to make a sincere case in favor of sending us to Sochi despite everything.

The perfect opportunity to defend myself, and I couldn’t come up with a single point in my own favor. All I could think about was whether my best friend was all right.

“We don’t,” I said.

Ellis raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Heath and I don’t deserve to go. No more than the other teams competing tonight.”

The space around us exploded with shutters, flashbulbs, more shouted questions. Ellis smirked. Then he stood aside with a sweep of his arm, making me a narrow path to the exit.

—

The staff at Massachusetts General couldn’t stop staring. I wasn’t sure whether they recognized me, or were simply taken aback by my heavy makeup, which no doubt looked even tackier after my mad dash from the arena to the hotel to the hospital.

Bella had a private room. She was sitting up, and she appeared brighter and more comfortable than before, even with all the wires and tubes attached to her.

“Hey,” I said. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“I might have to kill you, though. Why the hell didn’t you skate?”

Yes, Bella was definitely feeling better. “Because Heath—”

“Heath would have stayed if you asked him to.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“He went to find something to eat that isn’t watermelon Jell-O.” She made a face. Then her expression turned serious. “Listen, I hate that you have to find out like this, but—”

“You’re pregnant.”

Bella took a breath in. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t, until tonight.”

“Then I guess you also know that Heath’s the father.”

I nodded, though my stomach sank. I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted to be wrong.

“Are you mad?” she asked.

I was feeling many things—so many I couldn’t find clear threads to label anger or heartbreak or anything else.

“I don’t have any right to be mad,” I said. “Heath and I are just skating partners now.”

“Please. You two will never be just anything.”

“Is that why you decided not to tell me?”

“I’m not due until May. I thought I had plenty of time.” Bella laid her hand on the blanket-covered swell of her stomach. “Obviously, none of this was planned.”

I attempted some mental math about when she must have conceived, how long she’d been keeping this secret. During the Team USA skating camp we’d been required to attend last August, maybe? She and Heath had disappeared several nights that week, but I figured they were just avoiding all the icebreaker activities and other mandatory fun that crowded the schedule.

“So you’re keeping the baby?” I asked.

“I wasn’t sure at first,” Bella said. “I even made an appointment for an abortion, then canceled it at the last minute. And now…”

I sank into the uncomfortable chair beside the bed. “What did the doctors say?”

“I have signs of severe preeclampsia. They want me to stay on bed rest until I deliver.”

“Shit.” For a woman like Bella Lin, used to working and striving every second of every day, bed rest might be a fate worse than death.

“Tell me about it.” She rubbed slow circles over her belly. “Heath says he’ll support me, no matter what. But I don’t know if he’s up for all this. Especially since we’re not exactly…”

“Not exactly what?”

“Together,” she said. “I mean, it’s not like I love him.”

“Bella.”

“I don’t! Not the way you do. The way you did.”

“Bullshit me all you want, but stop bullshitting yourself.”

She gave me a wry smile. “You know how much I hate being stuck in second place.”

“It isn’t a competition.” I reached for her hand. “There are lots of different kinds of love.”

Love like a steady, warming campfire that keeps you alive in the cold. Love like a raging blaze that burns down everything in its path until nothing but ash remains.

“Do you…” Bella twisted the edge of the blanket. “Do you think I’ll be a good mother?”

“Are you kidding? You’ll be a wonderful mother. The best.”

A smile teased at Bella’s chapped lips. “So you’re saying I’ll win at motherhood.”

“Absolutely. All the other mothers will wish they could be half as good as you.” I squeezed her fingers. “You scared the shit out of me today.”

“Yeah, yeah. I still think you should have sucked it up and skated. You might have won.”

“We might have. Or Heath might’ve been so distracted by worrying about you that he dropped me on my head, and I’d be in the hospital too.”

We both laughed, right as Heath came through the door. He looked at the two of us apprehensively, an armful of vending machine snacks clutched to his middle.

I stood up and hugged him, plastic wrappers crinkling between us. “Congratulations,” I said. Then, whispering so only he could hear, “You’ll be a great dad.”

Heath’s shoulders dropped. “Thank you,” he whispered back.

I meant it. Heath’s shortage of good parental role models would make him work all the harder to give his own child the love and stability he’d never had himself.

His child. It sounded strange. Somehow, though, it also sounded right. And it was something he would’ve had to give up if he’d stayed with me.

Heath arranged the snacks on the bed for Bella to peruse. She took a sleeve of Oreos. I helped myself to some sourdough pretzels.

“Do you know who won?” Heath asked.

“Francesca and Evan, I assume.” I snapped a pretzel in two and offered him half. “I left before they skated.”

The competition was over by now. Most likely, the committee was already behind closed doors, deciding our fate. I’d submitted the official petition paperwork on our behalf, though I knew it was a long shot. Heath and I were former national and world champions, past Olympians with more international competition experience than all the other top American teams put together. But that experience came with a lot of baggage too. We might simply have too many strikes against us.

For the time being, there was nothing any of us could do except wait. A prenatal specialist was supposed to come examine Bella as soon as possible, but every question we asked the nurses was answered with some variation on Just a little while longer, hon. We found a mindlessly soothing home renovation show on the TV set bolted in the corner and continued working our way through the snack pile.

Finally, someone came to check on us, but it wasn’t a doctor.

Ellis Dean stood in the doorway, holding a Get Well Soon balloon emblazoned with a cartoon face that could have been smiling or grimacing.

“Bella,” Ellis said. “How are you feeling?”

She scowled. “No comment.”

Ellis lifted his hands. The balloon bumped against the low ceiling. “I come in peace. And to tell you to check your goddamn phones already.”

Heath and I both retrieved our iPhones, keeping a wary eye on Ellis all the while. Mine was still in silent mode, but several new messages displayed on the screen.

“Holy shit,” I said.

“What?” Bella demanded. Heath passed his phone to her.

We were on the Olympic team, along with Gaskell and Kovalenko. The 2014 U.S. silver and bronze medalists had been bumped to the alternate spots.

We’d done it. Shaw and Rocha were going back to the Olympics.

“Don’t you dare,” Bella said.

“Of course not.” Heath sat on the bed beside her. “We would never even consider leaving you, not while—”

“Oh my god, stop. ” Bella’s heart monitor beeped faster. She flopped back on the pile of pillows and shot me a weary, exasperated look.

“Ellis, could we have a minute?” I said.

He nodded and slipped into the hall, shutting the door behind him. That damn balloon stayed behind, leering at us from above.

I turned back to Bella. “You want us to go to Sochi.”

“Obviously. So don’t you dare even think about giving up the fucking Olympic Games to stay here and play nurse. I’m a Lin, I can afford to hire real nurses. Besides, Garrett’s landing at Logan in a few hours, and he’s way more nurturing than the both of you put together.”

Fair enough. Heath and I looked at each other. I could tell he was torn—which meant that however much he cared for Bella, and for the child they were about to have together, a part of him wanted to see this through. With me.

In the past, I would have done anything to convince him, to bend him to my will. I wanted to go to the Games, of course. The desire flared in my chest—yet another kind of love, the furnace that had been powering me all my life.

But this was a decision we had to make together.

“I’m in,” I told Heath. “But only if you are.”

He took Bella’s hand. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

She smiled and held out her other hand, reaching for me.

“I’m sure,” she said. “Screw baby showers and push presents. All I want is gold.”