THREE MONTHS AFTER Katie Left Brendan in New York City

Denver, CO

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BRENDAN WAS JOLTED out of a very pleasant dream by the sound of an air raid siren. He rolled over and slapped awkwardly at his alarm clock, stuffing his head under his pillow once he’d finally managed to turn it off. He wished he could close his eyes for five more minutes without running the risk of falling asleep and being late for his first session of the day.

Get up, Reid, he told himself. He shoved off the covers and dragged himself out of bed.

He’d never been a morning person, and he’d never had Katie’s built-in alarm clock, though he had certainly benefited from it whenever they’d been on the road together. At least so far as getting woken up at the crack of dawn by the sound of Katie getting dressed counted as a benefit.

One day, I’m going to wake up and not have my very first thought be about Katie.

Today was clearly not that day.

Brendan wasn’t angry with her all the time anymore. He had been, those first hours in New York City after he’d gotten her message. He’d thought about following her to yell at her for leaving or to plead with her to stay, but he hadn’t known which airline or which airport. Besides, getting to any of New York’s airports was a nightmare. Most importantly, even if Katie was an asshole for standing him up at a series of important business meetings, she of course had the right to leave.

So he’d lied and dissembled for her, signed his own deals where he could, and watched as the entertainment machine that had wanted them crumbled before his eyes.

Brendan had slunk back to Denver, to the apartment that had been a gift from his parents when he’d first moved out there. Katie had always hated not the apartment itself, but the fact that he’d had it. As Katie’s radio silence drew on, he’d grown to hate everything about it too.

He drove to the rink without any music on. All his playlists were filled with songs they had practiced or competed to, and he didn’t have the heart to listen to any of them. Making new mixes felt a little too much like defeat, an acknowledgment that Katie really was gone from his life for good.

“You are pathetic,” he told himself aloud as he parked at the rink. Why break his newfound morning routine now?

Working at the same rink he and Katie had trained at for so many years was surreal. Everything looked familiar but felt different. And not in a good way. If he’d been smarter, he’d have gone somewhere else. But he had a community here, the town knew him, and packing up his life and moving somewhere else for the sake of something new held zero appeal.

Plus, he liked the kids he was working with. He wasn’t a fully-fledged coach yet or even close. He was working with a coaching staff for two different junior-level figure skating pairs, assisting with choreography and the artistic aspects of their programs. As much as he’d planned on coaching after his retirement from competition, he was surprised by how much he enjoyed the work. He was in love with skating and always had been. Watching his skaters strive and improve meant as much to him as if their progress had been his own.

Tomorrow, one of the pairs — Shelby and Miguel — was leaving for a competition in South Bend, and the stakes were about to get higher. If they placed high enough there, they would advance to the next round of competitions. At that point this would get a lot more serious for all of them. He really needed to get his head in the game and give his kids the best he had in him.

***

BRENDAN HADN’T EXPECTED travelling as part of a coaching staff to be so different from travelling as a skater. But here he was in Indiana with a hotel room to himself, way less luggage, and no one to freak out to.

The last part was the worst, he thought as sat at the desk with his laptop going through his notes and making sure he had absolutely everything in order for tomorrow. Not because he necessarily needed to freak out — he was nervous, sure, but his kids were as prepared as they could be. But because whenever he’d travelled for a competition, ever since he was ten, Katie had been right there with him. Even in those terrible years when they hadn’t been partners, he’d always known she was somewhere in the same city and skating on the same ice.

Before he closed his computer for the night he refreshed his inbox one last time, another ritual he’d started since he got back to Denver. There was, as usual, nothing from Katie. Brendan sighed, snapped his computer shut, folded his arms on top of it and buried his face in them. He had to assume Katie had given up skating forever — or that her knee had forced her to do so. He’d texted, emailed, and called her in the first couple of weeks after she’d fled New York, almost frantic for wanting to know if she was okay. But the more time that went by without a response from her, the more evident the answer became: Either she wasn’t okay and there was nothing Brendan could do about it, or she was fine and she wanted nothing to do with him.

Brendan shook his head and stood up to get ready for bed. He needed to not think about Katie, and he needed to sleep.

***

SHELBY AND MIGUEL NAILED their short program, as Brendan had known they would. He managed to keep thoughts of Katie mostly at bay until they were about to do their free skate the next day.

Before their names were called, Brendan leaned his elbows on the boards to give them one last pep talk. They had an actual coach who was more than capable of doing this for them, but in the last few months they had gravitated towards Brendan. He wasn’t sure what made them trust him so much, or from where he drew the words to calm their nerves and build their confidence, but he was glad of it, whatever it was. Glad, and also humbled. Brendan had been in their shoes once and knew how much faith they were placing in him. He couldn’t let them down.

Shelby’s eyes were huge. Miguel looked grimly determined. They reminded Brendan so very much of himself and Katie at that age. The nerves would never go away, but with luck, support, and the right resources they’d become part of the process instead of a barrier.

“Hey,” he told them both. Shelby reached for the box of tissues and blew her nose, still looking like a deer in the headlights. “You like skating, yeah?”

The two looked at Brendan, looked at each other, and looked back at him in perfect unison. Their faces said plainly that they thought he’d lost his mind.

When they didn’t answer, though, he lifted his eyebrows and repeated the question. Learning how to communicate their needs as athletes meant learning how to actually communicate. Out loud. He wasn’t going to let them fall into same bad habits as him and Katie.

“Yes,” they said together.

“Then don’t worry about what comes after. Go enjoy the shit out of the next three and a half minutes.”

That got a smile out of them. Their names were announced, and he gave them each a last hug over the boards before they pushed off, hand in hand, for their starting positions.

Brendan knew someone’s camera in the audience would find him either because they were curious as to how he was handling his transition to coaching or because it was an excuse for the internet to wonder what had happened to Katie. He folded his arms and told himself very sternly not to bite his thumbnail. He had every bit of confidence in his kids; they were a moment away from becoming extraordinary.

He didn’t breathe until the song was done and Shelby and Miguel struck their final position. Neither they nor Brendan needed the judges to tell them they had absolutely nailed that program. Stunned, relieved smiles broke out over their faces, and they threw their arms around each other.

Fuck. Brendan missed Katie. The old, familiar sensation of her absence was suddenly painfully sharp. He found it hard to breathe as it lingered, staying with him as Shelby and Miguel got their winning scores, through the congratulatory hugs, and during the medal ceremony. So many memories were tied up in the rituals of the day. Without Katie at his side he felt like he was missing half of his body.

In the arena parking lot he waved goodbye to Shelby and Miguel and their parents, then leaned against his rental car as he watched them go. They were headed for a celebratory dinner, almost effervescent with their delight in their victory. Brendan was going back to his hotel room. He needed to review the tape of today’s performance and make notes for the kids and for his own work. He needed to reply to the emails he’d gotten today from his other team, still at home in Denver. But he also needed to make a plan.

Time and therapy alone were not cutting it. He needed to solve things with Katie once and for all. Even if, after that, they never spoke again.

***

HE WAITED TO CALL KATIE until he arrived back home the next day. He dropped his mail on the kitchen counter and looked around at the rest of his apartment. He was hardly ever here; his life was spent mostly at the rink or the gym. Without Katie crashing here on weekends and the odd weeknight, it looked more empty and bare than ever. A couple of dishes were sitting somewhat sadly on the draining board. Aside from his medals and a few framed photographs on the wall, the place looked more like a hostel than a place where anyone actually lived.

This was not a home he could share with anyone, his previous invitation to Katie to move in with him notwithstanding. She’d been right to refuse that offer for so many reasons. His place wasn’t — and had never been — the home of a person who was ready to have someone in their life.

What the hell am I doing here?

Such a mood was, perhaps, not the best one in which to reach out to his ex-skating partner ... his ex-everything, really. But he needed to do this. Brendan scrolled to her number in his phone and hit call.

He stared at his phone as it rang. His heart pounded. He told himself sternly that the worst that could happen was that Katie would hang up on him. If the last three months hadn’t killed him, that certainly wasn’t going to finish him off now.

He let it ring until it clicked over to voicemail, but he was unprepared to leave a message, so he hung up. He’d write something out that made some sort of sense and call her back later. That way, if her voicemail picked up again, at least he’d be prepared.

The second he set his phone down on the counter, it rang.

Katie.

Calling him back.

Suddenly, he hated her all over again. By which he meant that he was totally in love with her all over again and in a total panic.

Fuck.

He answered the phone. And said nothing.

Katie mirrored his silence, although he could hear her breathing. He wondered if they would hang up without speaking a word.

Finally she spoke. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

She took a deep breath that sounded like all the ones before the music started. “I know you didn’t call just to say hi.”

“No.” God, I missed your voice, Brendan thought. There was so much he wanted to say, but now that Katie was there on the line, he didn’t know how.

Isn’t that always the problem with us, though? The chance that they would be able to fix things between them suddenly seemed remote.

Katie sighed impatiently. He’d missed that sound, too.

“I’m not hanging up on you,” she said sharply, “but I’m also not playing twenty questions. What do you want, Brendan? It’s almost my bedtime.”

“It’s eight-thirty.” Where did she get off being angry about him calling, when she had been the one who left him in New York and had never even answered an email?

“Do you know what time cows get up?”

After all the years they had spent together, Brendan suspected he should. But if she had told him before — and she probably had — he had forgotten. Ugh. “What time do cows get up, Katie?” he asked snidely. Then he kicked himself. Whatever his case was, he wasn’t helping it.

“Four.”

“That’s really fucking early.” As early as skaters get up.

“Yeah, I’m not making small talk with you about cows.”

“They won,” he blurted.

“What?”

“One of the junior pairs I’ve been working with. They won. Today.”

“Congratulations,” she said tartly.

Brendan wondered if she resented his bringing up skating. But what else was he supposed to do? Like she had said, making small talk about cows was definitely not an option.

“Is this a nostalgia call?” she asked.

“No. It’s not.” What does she want me to say? What do I want to say? “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Katie said. She sounded like she meant it.

“Really? Because —”

She cut him off with an exasperated noise. “Why is that so hard to understand?”

“Because you weren’t okay when you left. Because I’m not now. Because my kids won yesterday and all I wanted to do was get in a car and get to you.”

He could hear Katie’s sharp inhale. “But you decided that would be a creepy, shitty, stalkerish thing to do?”

“Yeah. Of course. Christ. I’m not trying to make your life harder.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Now that I’ve stopped being pissed at you all the time —”

“I’m sorry about New York,” she cut in.

Brendan could hear the nervous edge in her voice, could imagine how she worried her fingers together. She always did that when she was afraid she had disappointed him. He didn’t want to ignore that, but right now, he had to. Put your own oxygen mask on first, he told himself sternly.

“Now that I’ve stopped being pissed at you all the time,” he repeated, needing to work up the courage to say the next, horrible, necessary words, “I want this shit between us to be over. Once and for all. Officially.”

A pause. A breath. “You’re going to break up with me over the phone?” she asked incredulously.

He stammered. How could Katie give him so much hope and be so utterly dire about their future all at the same time. “I ... uh ... what?!”

“You can’t break up with me; we’re not together,” she said in a rush.

That wasn’t any clearer. Brendan imagined her tossing her ponytail as if she didn’t care. But he knew she did. There was no way she couldn’t. Even if a permanent, official end to all that they had shared was what they both wanted. Because if she hadn’t cared on some messy, complicated level, she wouldn’t have run three months ago.

“Okay, but we seriously need to talk. Preferably in person, I guess.”

“You can’t drive to Wisconsin to break up with me.”

“Would you stop saying ‘break up?’ You’re freaking me out and making this more complicated. Also, seriously, would I do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Brendan exhaled. “Look, can I come see you or not?”

“I’m not letting you drive fifteen hours so we can have an awkward coffee while gossipy strangers stare at us.”

That didn’t appeal to Brendan, either. “I’ll come to the farm, and when we’re sick of each other — whether that takes an hour or a day or ... whatever — I’m sure my parents will be glad to see me.”

“Really?”

“They do like me, yes.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She sounded incredulous. That was fair. The farm, whenever he’d been there had unnerved him. He’d been boorish and had acted like Katie should hate it too. Of course, she never had. She had every right to set this as a test.

“Yes, I’ll come to the farm,” he said clearly.

Katie hummed like she was considering it. But Brendan could tell that was a performance. Whatever her answer, he was nearly sure he would be getting in his car. And soon.

“All right,” she said. “Pack a bag, get ready to work, and be excited for cow time.”