Chapter 12

 

Kelly

 

I didn’t look at anyone passing by as I got out of the Uber and ran into the dorms. I wiped all of my tears on the sleeve of my coat and sucked in a deep breath as I got off the elevator. I didn’t want to think about what my makeup or hair looked like. I just hoped that a paparazzi didn’t sneak in and make that the big story of The Games. The ice queen falls apart was all I needed to see as a stupid headline.

Becca’s game was earlier in the day so she’d be back in our room if she wasn’t with her teammates. For the first time ever I would have to tell my sister why I was crying and that it was over a boy. A boy who she probably knew would screw me over but pushed me toward him anyway even after I broke down and told her everything about Joe.

I unlocked the door of our room and turned the lights on. I thought for a brief second that maybe Becca was gone, but then I heard some whispered swearing in a male’s voice.

I put my hand over my eyes and stepped further into the room. This definitely was not what I wanted to come home too. We needed to come up with a system if this was going to happen again and this was the last thing I wanted to come home to after what I’d just been through. I groaned. “Becca, if you have a man in bed with you, can you both please cover up? Or I’ll go wait in the bathroom or something.”

“Um, yeah, just a sec,” Becca said, whispering and then I heard the guy muttering something back.

I kept my eyes on the ground with my hand shielding what was in front of me. That was when I spotted something very out of place on the ground. It was a Team USA warm-up jacket, but not just any warm-up jacket, this one had Logan’s name embroidered on the front.

“Um, Becca? Is there a reason Logan’s jacket is here?” I asked, hoping my first thought was wrong and he wasn’t in her bed. Maybe she got cold at the arena, he happened to be there at the same time for some reason, and he let her borrow it. Even though my sister never got cold and I didn’t know when they’d be at the arena together at the same time. That thought at least sounded better than the other option of my sister sleeping with my skating partner.

“We’re just getting dressed then Lo-, uh, the guy is going to leave,” Becca sheepishly said as I heard the fumbling of bodies and zippers.

I sighed and dropped my hand. “As if my day couldn’t get any worse,” I muttered and looked up to see Logan in nothing but his sweatpants with his hair tousled every which way and Becca in nothing but her bra and underwear.

I wanted to scream at both of them or be even more upset by the fact that my sister was sleeping with my skating partner, but instead, I just sat on my bed, defeated enough by the enormity of everything that happened with Blake.

“Well, that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting,” Becca said, the side of the bed creaking as she sat down next to me.

“Have you been crying?” Logan asked, walking toward me as he put on his t-shirt.

“This is a weird conversation to have right now, maybe a weird one to have ever,” I muttered.

“Do I need to put on a shirt? Will that make it better? Maybe even pants?” Becca asked, putting her hand on my shoulder.

I shrugged. “That probably couldn’t hurt.”

Before Becca could even get off the bed, I sighed, mentally and physically exhausted. I’d done seventeen-hour days training for most of my life but nothing tired and pained me more than the revelation with Blake. “I was a bet. Nothing more than a stupid bet,” I said through gritted teeth.

“What did you just say?” Logan asked, kneeling down in front of me. I almost forgot he was in the room then the wave of nausea hit me that I just walked in on my sister and skating partner in bed together.

I covered my face with my hands. “This has been the most messed up day ever,” I muttered and laid back on the bed, my head hitting the very scratchy comforter that reminded me of the flannel blanket in the back of Blake’s van. The van I thought we had incredible sex in. Sex that was meaningless. Not just meaningless, but nothing more than a wager between a bunch of Canadian buddies. And the fact that it meant something to me. That it was more than just a fling or connecting of our bodies. That I was really falling for this guy and giving my all to him was the thing I thought would bring us closer together. Not tear us apart.

I found the tears streaming from my eyes again, and Becca was at my side, pushing my hair away from my face. “Kelly, shhh, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk about if you don’t want to,” Becca murmured.

“Like hell, she doesn’t. That guy made a bet? Is that what you’re trying to tell us? Like one of those bad romance novels or some frat boy move where they take a wager on who can sleep with a girl?” Logan growled from the end of the bed.

I raised my head to see Logan’s hands clutched into tight fists at his side. People always gave male figure skaters a hard time about not being masculine enough, but they’d obviously never met a real male figure skater. Logan was tall, lean, and could lift me effortlessly and I was one-hundred and ten pounds. Then that made me think about how he was lifting my sister, and the bile rose in my throat again.

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s basically what happened. I was a bet. A bet to de-ice the ice queen,” I said, doing air quotes with my fingers.”

“I’m going to go to the mountains now and sucker punch that dreadlocked, maple-syrup chugging little prick and his little buddies. Who the hell do they think they are?” Logan snarled, heading toward the door.

Becca was off the bed in a flash, her hand to his chest as she put her body between him and the door. I saw a flicker of something almost carnal in Logan’s eyes as he looked down at her, licking his lips, but then looked back to me and he sighed.

“Logan, if you do that, you know it’s just going to get you in more trouble, and you two have to get to practice before your program,” Becca said, keeping her hand splayed on his chest.

I sat up and wiped my eyes. “You’re right, Becca. No use worrying about some guy who doesn’t care about us. We have a country to make proud.”

“That isn’t exactly what I said,” Becca said tentatively.

I stood up and walked over to the closet, grabbing my outfit for the performance. “I’m going to shower quickly and then head over to hair and makeup. I’ll meet you at the arena, Logan.”

“Are you sure about this? Maybe you want to talk some more?” Becca asked, following me to the bathroom door.

“There’s nothing more to say. I made a stupid mistake with a stupid boy, and now I need to go back to focusing on the reason we’re here,” I said, nodding to myself and shutting the door before Becca could say anything else.

Logan and she had a whispered conversation outside of the door, so I turned on the shower. That way they couldn’t hear my tears that were going to be the last ones I ever cried for Blake Tremblay.

 

***

 

I sat in the chair, staring at the girl in the mirror while the man with bright blue hair and striking eyebrows secured my hair into an intricate updo.

I’d been getting my makeup airbrushed and my hair professionally done for competition since I was in the fourth grade. I’d gotten used to the poking and prodding, even found some of it therapeutic. The less I could feel physically when the blue haired man stuck pins in my head then the less I had to worry about feeling emotionally. This is why I was the ice queen, as Liam so eloquently called me.

I didn’t need to worry about my emotions. Those were for silly girls who fell for boys and thought they liked them. Girls who weren’t me. These games were about one thing and one thing only: bringing home the gold.

“All right, Ms. Johnson. Any other touch ups?” the blue haired man asked in a high-pitched tone.

I put on the plastic smile that I always did for competition and looked at the bright blue eye shadow that matched the sparkly blue leotard with the wispy skirt. Blake had said I had a fake smile for competition and the real smile I had was with him. He might have been right at the time, but that was before I knew our relationship was a lie. Now I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to have a real smile again. “Yes, thank you.”

“Yes, a vision of a loveliness,” Coach said, his reflection coming into view as he stepped in the dressing room.

“Thank you.” The blue haired man nodded then skittered out of the dressing room as Coach took long strides until he was at the back of my chair, his large hands gripping onto the faux leather.

“Thanks, Coach,” I muttered, turning toward him as he stepped back and let go of the chair. I kept my head down as I grabbed my skates, sliding them on.

“So, I’ve been told of some rumblings about a social media hashtag and that maybe a certain Canadian snowboarder has been breaking your concentration?” Coach asked, his voice gruff.

I froze, my hands still on the laces. Swallowing hard, I shook my head, pulling up the leather tongue. “You don’t need to worry about that, Coach. It’s a thing of the past.”

“Is that past why I had to watch my two-time-Olympic gold medalist skater fall on her ass twice in qualifications?” he asked, his voice even firmer.

I tried to focus on lacing my skates and not the shaking of my hands. “It won’t happen again, Coach. I can assure you. No boys. No friends. Only the ice. If you want to be a champion that’s all you need,” I said, trying to repeat the mantra I’d had since I was just a scared little girl coming to train with the great Coach Donahue.

Coach’s hand was under my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “Do you need me to take care of him?”

I pulled my head back and raised an eyebrow. “What? Take care of him?”

Coach moved his hands to his pockets and shrugged. “You know, talk to his coaches or the committee and make sure he doesn’t show up at the arena and break your concentration?”

I stood up, holding my head high. I was a damn multi-gold medalist. I wasn’t going to let some Canadian boy stand in my way. “No, Coach. I’m a big girl. I can handle this.”

 

***

 

 

Logan and I stood in waiting for our turn to be called to take the ice. Another waltz. Another program where I wore all blue and smiled for the crowd as their American ice princess.

It was all I had ever thought about all my life, and now that I’d experienced something more than just skating, I was starting to question it. Which was definitely not the time in the middle of the Olympic games.

I didn’t have any lifelong friends that I could chat with for hours about nothing, and if I did, I’d have nothing to talk with them about except skating. No ex-boyfriends. No nothing. My life had always been the ice and training for The Games. Blake was right about one thing; I did need new hobbies. I just didn’t think that one of my hobbies would turn into falling for him and then losing him just as quickly. But I guess you couldn’t lose something you never really had.

Alexis and Jacob just got off the ice, and I tried not to glare at the put-together-brunette. I normally wouldn’t have even spoken to her, but she stared right at me and did a small little wave as she walked to her seat to wait for the results. What the hell was that about?

“So, are we going to talk about what happened?” Logan asked quietly, his head down and his overly gelled and slicked back hair gleaming against the bright lights.

“About Blake using me as a bet or you sleeping with my sister?” I hiss-whispered.

Logan sighed. “Both.”

I shook my head. “Not now.”

“Then when?”

“Possibly never. We just get out on the ice, we ace this performance and hopefully get in medal position then prepare for the free skate, get gold, and go home,” I said all in one breath.

“And the ice queen is back,” Logan muttered.

I snapped my head in his direction, glaring. “What was that? Did you really just use that name on me?”

Logan looked around. All eyes were on us since we were next to take the ice. He leaned in his lips practically on my ear. “Look, Kelly, you know I love you as a partner and a friend, but we both know that you push everyone away that you deem as a distraction. And maybe, just maybe this Blake guy became more than a distraction. He may have fucked up with starting to talk to you because of a bet, but when I talked to him, I could tell he really did like you and you’d be stupid to throw it away because he made one mistake. Would you want the judges to only focus on our mess ups in the qualification round and not let us compete in finals because of your mistakes?”

I glared at him, and before I could say anything, the announcer called our names to hit the ice.

“It’s show time,” I whispered, my voice cracking.