CHAPTER THIRTEEEN

SHE SWIPED HER CHEEK AS if she could brush the damn things away. Not only was that impossible, but also pointless. He was close enough to see every imperfection. Worse, he seemed to be actively searching.

She frowned. “Just something I inherited from Fiona.”

“She is your mother?”

Tabitha nodded.

“And you call her by her given name. Is that an American custom?”

The question wasn’t particularly nosy, but it still bugged her. To share details of her messy life was something she took pains to avoid. But much as she wanted to keep Daniil at a safe distance, he didn’t want to stay there. He was wreaking havoc with her concentration, on the ice and off. She grabbed her water bottle. “A Turner custom,” she said, and took a long drink. When she was finished swigging, she smiled, cool and collected. “You did well on the cross rolls. You’re a fast learner.”

“I always have been. And you’re a good teacher. What’s next?”

“Tomorrow, we’ll work on backward cross rolls and if you do well, we’ll put it together into a dance sequence.”

“And then it will be my turn to teach you about passion on the ice.”

Before she could ask what he had in mind, the double gate at the far end of the rink opened with a clunk. A bright orange Zamboni rumbled out. Tabitha skated off; Daniil followed her into the lobby and took a seat beside her on the bench as she unlaced her skates. “Did things go well with Misha today?”

“Yep.”

“Antigone is better?”

“I’m still not in love with it.” She didn’t want to lie; she wished he hadn’t asked.

“That’s because your passion is for dance. I saw it when you skated at the rink in Chicago, and when you were teaching me today.”

“That’s because ice dance is something I do for fun, not because I have to win gold.”

“Why do you have to win gold?”

She looked up and stared. “Seriously? I can’t believe you’re even asking that.”

“I ask because I’m curious, and it’s a valid question.”

“With an obvious answer,” she huffed. “So tell me why you want to win gold.”

“My goal isn’t to win a gold medal. It’s skating in Grenoble. I want it because I love skating and want to prove there’s a place for me in the sport. Now back to you. Why is nothing short of gold good enough?”

“You’re sure full of questions. Maybe you belong in journalism instead of skating.”

He laughed. “I want to know you, and for you to know me.

She shrugged her reply.

“So tell me why nothing less than gold matters. And why you gave up ice dance.”

She avoided his gaze, and kept her attention on her boot laces, which looked frayed. Just like her nerves. She didn’t like being psychoanalyzed by someone with just as much baggage. She rubbed a chamois over the damp blade and stretched a terry cloth soaker over it. “All right, fine. I gave up ice dance because singles offered more opportunity.”

“For money, you mean?”

“Yes, for money. Before Olga became my sponsor, Fiona worked a second job at my rink to pay for my training. Skating people convinced her I had the potential to rise in the sport and because the most popular, and profitable, discipline is ladies’, it made sense to concentrate on that.”

“But if you were passionate about ice dance, shouldn’t you have stayed with it?”

Passion again. Couldn’t he drop the subject? As if there was nothing more important. Ha! Money had given him freedom to do as he pleased, as well as a soft place to land when those all-important passions went south. She’d never had that luxury.

She held up a custom skate, angry not just at him, but at the unfairness of it all. “In case you haven’t noticed, none of this is cheap! Unlike you, I don’t come from money. My family made a lot of sacrifices for my skating.”

“But you made them too. You missed out on things, like we all have. You gave up ice dance to skate in a discipline you liked less.”

“Who said I liked it less,” she snapped, even though it was true. “Anyway, it was a long time ago. What matters now, is this season. When I didn’t make the team for Oslo, and stayed in another four years, Fiona, Peter and Samara were totally on board with it. If I win the gold medal, then I can do something for them.”

“Such as?”

“Give Peter the professional recognition that’s eluded him his entire career. I’ll land endorsement money that will pay for my sister’s education, provided she hasn’t flunked out by then. And I can buy my mom some land near her family, back in Missouri. She left home when she was young, but her heart’s still there. I want her to have a place that’s her own, so she’ll always have a roof over her head. No matter what... passion... she pursues.”

“What about you? What passion do you want to pursue?”

“I have no idea. That’s something other people do. Not me.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

Where did he get off, criticizing her for being cautious and responsible? “There’s no problem! I do what needs to be done. I’m practical and careful. There’s not a damned thing wrong with that.”

She tossed the skate in her bag, with a little less care than usual, in a hurry to leave the rink. But Daniil gently put his hand on her arm, stopping her. “I didn’t say there was,” he said, then rose, and hoisted his own bag over his shoulder. “Come on, we worked hard today. Time for a little indulgence.”

“No. I’ve indulged enough. I have things to do. I need to get back, and—”

“There will be plenty of time for whatever you think you must do. But right now, is something else you must do.”

She sighed. “Fifteen minutes. Then I’m heading back to the hotel.”

He took her hand, and they walked into the park beside the rink. Warm afternoon sun bathed the footpath with dappled golden light. She hoped he wouldn’t try to talk her into jogging. She hated jogging. Instead, he stopped at the playground and dropped his skate bag beside the swing set.

“I thought you were joking about the swings!”

“No joke.” He took a seat in a swing and held out his hand inviting her to take the one beside it. “Nothing against the law. No calories and you can’t get hurt. Not badly, anyway.”

“I feel ridiculous,” she said, but trudged over, and sat down in the rubber sling seat.

“But you’re doing it anyway. That’s progress.”

He pushed off from the ground, pumping his legs backward and forward. She stayed closer to the ground, so he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of thinking she enjoyed this. But as he gained height, her natural competitiveness kicked in. She propelled herself higher and higher until she was neck and neck with him. As they approached the top of the forward arc, he looked over and grinned. “Now jump!”

“Are you insane?”

He laughed, and stretched out his legs, no longer pumping but enjoying the ride as his swing slowed. “Not insane. You’re right; we don’t want to risk injury because of a bad landing. But it was fun, even if you feel ridiculous. And you aren’t mad anymore.”

She slowed down too, letting her feet brush the woodchip covered ground. He went to their skate bags and returned with their water bottles. She opened hers and took a drink. “I wasn’t mad. I just don’t like being criticized because I was never free to chase every shiny new thing that comes along. Someone had to be the grown-up.”

“Because your mom and sister had all those bad experiences?”

“That’s part of it. In my life, there’s been no shortage of drama. Only a shortage of money. I handled it the best I could, but I wasn’t always successful.”

“It’s hard to think of you not being successful at something.”

She shrugged and glanced down at her left hand. The red polish had chipped away on her index finger. “Well, I wasn’t.”

“Tell me what happened. I can keep a secret.”

She thought of his neglected social media pages and realized that it was true. He wasn’t the type to gossip or over share. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “It’s not a secret. Peter thinks it shows how driven and committed I was to skating. But I don’t like to talk about it. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

“Because you didn’t have money? That’s no reason to feel ashamed.”

“Says the son of the billionaire and the supermodel.”

“Do you think I’d look down on you? I’m the last person who should judge anyone. Tell me what happened, Tabitha.”

She stared at the ground and kicked up woodchips. If nothing else, it would prove she wasn’t still pining over ice dance and that skating had mattered to her. It still did. He’d promised not to judge her. This would prove if she could trust him. If he laughed or belittled her, she’d know the person he really was. And if he didn’t?

That was trouble of a different sort.

The shouts of kids running and playing took Tabitha back to that awful day. She could recall every detail, from what she’d worn to school, to the gross cafeteria pizza she’d eaten for lunch. Even twelve years later, the Ice Queen had never vanquished the Scholarship Girl.

“Because of money, my early training started and stopped a lot. But when I was eleven Fiona worked part time at the rink to cover the cost. For the first time, I was making real progress. I had all my double jumps and my coach thought I was ready to compete. Then one morning, Fiona told me she’d lost her rink job. I knew it was because she’d flirted with the rink owner’s husband, and that once again, I’d have to quit skating.”

“By lunchtime, I was practically sick. I sat in the school cafeteria, eating the lunch I got for free because we were poor, furious that Fiona’s screw-up meant the end of my skating. I realized that no one would save skating but me. I walked out in the middle of the school day and caught a bus to the rink.”

“Just like that?” He sounded impressed.

“Yep. I marched up to Diane, the rink owner, and told her I had to keep skating. I said I would take over Fiona’s job in the snack bar, and stay after the rink closed and clean every night until midnight if that was what it took. Diane shook her head and said no.”

“That was when I lost it. I threw myself down on the floor at her feet, and screamed and cried, and even threatened to jump in front of a bus. People were staring, and Diane was this close to calling the police. Then Sheila, an instructor who liked me, calmed me down. She said she would find a way for me to keep skating.”

“And that was Olga Zelanskaya?”

“First it was scholarships, but with money to train, I gave it my all. Since I was almost in my teens, I had a lot of catching up to do. But I started to win. Sheila worked to place me with a coach who could take me to the next level.”

“But everyone passed.”

“Everyone except Peter Flanagan. Once he offered me a place in his training group, he brought me to Olga, who had helped other skaters. At sixteen, I won junior nationals; at seventeen, I made the jump to senior level. Except for blowing my shot at the Oslo Games, it’s been a good run.”

“I’ll say it has,” Daniil said, shaking his head. “There’s not a thing in that story to feel bad about.”

“I made an enormous fool of myself. People at the rink talked about it for weeks.”

“You were a kid about to lose something you loved, through no fault of your own. Once you had the chance to skate, you worked hard and never looked back. That’s reason to be proud, not hide behind fake perfection.”

“Perfect people don’t have public meltdowns. But, perfection is exhausting. Peter has concocted this public image for me that’s so far from my reality, it’s almost funny. Not to mention impossible to live up to. The Antigone program is an extension of my pre-med at Harvard alter-ego.”

“That explains why you don’t like it very much. But you don’t need to be perfect with me. I’d rather know the real Tabitha, with freckles, curly hair and a crazy life.”

“Even if the real Tabitha is a scared mess who feels like she’s barely keeping it together?”

His smile was genuine and reassuring. “Join the club. Even with so many advantages, I screwed up my life trying to get the attention of people who didn’t give a damn, anyway. I wasted years being angry with a mother who left me with a father who never even wanted a son. While I was fighting against something, you were fighting for something.”

She let the words turn over slowly in her mind. Not only had he not ridiculed her, or looked down on her humble background, he saw her struggle in terms of her victory. She had been fighting for something, and against daunting odds, she’d triumphed. The realization warmed her down to her soul. She sat a little straighter.

It also made her see him a bit differently. Wealth hadn’t erased the hurt of being unloved and unwanted. “It hasn’t been easy for you, has it?”

“It’s getting better. I’m more committed to my skating than I ever have been. Ilya inspires me because he’s overcome struggles even worse than mine. I look at Anton and Carrie, and see it is possible to love someone in the right way, and for children to grow up knowing they’re loved too. That’s the sort of life I want someday.” He smiled self-consciously. “With the right person.”

Startled, she blinked. He couldn’t mean her. They hardly knew each other. Then again, weren’t they trying to change that? What she’d seen so far, she liked a lot. She wanted to know him more.

Her gaze fell on the colorful images inked on his skin. Waves and water covered his left arm. On the right forearm, a 1940’s car drove on a moonlit road. On the side of his hand, just below his thumb, was a simple outline of a figure skating blade.

“I like that one,” she said, brushing her finger-tip across it. “The artist even got the toe pick right.”

“Of course she did. She’s Russian,” he said with a measure of pride. “People there know about figure skating.”

Bolder, she took his hands in hers and turned them over to study the words inked in English on his knuckles. LOVE on the right. HATE on the left. “I’ll bet you didn’t get these done in Russia.”

“London, five years ago, when I went to watch my mother marry the duke she just divorced.”

“Did you get them to make her mad?” The idea brought a subversive little thrill.

His laugh was deep and rich. “I did it because of the character in the Blues Brothers. It’s one of my favorite movies. The fact it made her mad was just a bonus.”

Letting her guard down, she laughed too. “Well, at least your mom had the sense to marry a duke. The best my mom can do are a bunch of clowns.”

“I thought you were a rock star’s daughter.”

“That’s Samara. And Jason was no prize, believe me.”

“You’re lucky though, even if you don’t see it. You have a close family who is always in your corner. They love you, and you love them. I envy that.”

She never thought of her life as worthy of envy, especially from someone who’d grown up with everything. She gazed into his eyes, wanting to kiss him. But she held back. That was something Fiona would do. Or Samara. This was too new, too fragile. And she’d already set the ground rules. She couldn’t very well turn around and break them after one day. It was better to take things slow. Be careful, just like she’d promised Olga.

In the meantime though, there was no reason not to enjoy being with him. She lifted her water bottle in a toast. “To crazy families.”

He smiled. “Something else we have in common.”