Page 4

I thought the Grand Prix was my worst day of the year, I didn’t realize that was just the beginning of a string of bad days, bad weeks , more like it.

And tonight was the bottom of the barrel—maybe, hopefully, because I couldn’t stomach it if things got worse than this.

“It’s really over, isn’t it?” I asked Patrick over our candle-lit table, making him grimace. The lighting made his auburn hair and scruff appear a deeper orange color.

After working together here in Montreal for two whole fucking months, Patrick finally told me that he couldn’t take it anymore.

Patrick took a slow sip of his amber-colored drink.

People around us probably thought we were a couple breaking up, not skating partners.

Honestly, we probably would’ve become a romantic couple at some point if Patrick wasn’t gay because we’d been best friends since we were nine and ten years old.

I knew him better than anyone else on this planet.

The two of us had been through everything together.

As a kid, I moved to Montreal to skate with him.

As teens, we moved to Michigan to train under better coaches.

As adults, we’d lived in five different cities together.

We traveled the country, the world, competing together.

As the only daughter of divorced hotel moguls, everything in my life was always shifting and changing.

I never had a real home like he did, but I was always welcomed in his home with his parents and his two older brothers.

Patrick was the one constant in my life, the one person I could always count on.

“It was our dream to get the gold, I don’t want to do it without you,” I said, feeling like my throat was closing up.

He reached for my hand over the table and gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

This was really it.

He was quitting on me.

Intense anger flared to life in my chest. Without even thinking, I grasped my water glass and flung the contents at him.

Patrick blinked as the water dripped down his face.

I gasped at my own actions. I couldn’t believe I just did that. It’s like an angry monster just possessed me. What the hell was wrong with me? I loved Patrick, I didn’t want him mad at me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, feeling the eyes of everyone else in the restaurant on us. “I didn’t mean to.” I shook my head.

I was scared, no, terrified, that he’d hate me and never want to speak to me again. But then, a laugh popped out of him as he unrolled his silverware for the cloth napkin. “Yeah, you did. I deserved that.”

My shoulders dropped. “This is why we’re perfect for each other,” I whined, throwing my elbows up on the table to hold my head.

“You understand me.” He understood my theatrics because he knew they were coming from a place of hurt or a place of wanting us to improve.

Still, I shouldn’t have done that. “I really am sorry,” I added sheepishly.

“I know you are.” He laughed as he dabbed his face dry. “I’m going to miss you, P.”

My chin quivered. “I don’t want to miss you, Patrick. I don’t want anything to change.”

He gave me a gentle smile. “Change is the one thing we can always count on happening, P. We can’t skate forever.”

Tears pricked the back of my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away. “Not forever, just until February, just until the Olympics. Only, like, nine more months, Patrick. I can’t do this without you. This is our dream. I don’t want to skate with anyone else. It won’t be the same.”

“It’ll be better, I’m sure of it, Piper. I’m tired, you’re not. You deserve to keep going with someone who has the drive to win. It’s just not in me anymore.”

“Did you tell Luka and Michelle?”

“Yeah, they know.” He rubbed his jaw—his nervous tell—and I instantly knew he was hiding something from me.

“What? What did they say?”

He sighed and finally met my eyes. “They think it’s best if we hang it up, after…ya know…everything. They’ll probably call you tomorrow…” he trailed off.

They were dumping me too? I sat back on the chair. “What? No.” I shook my head. Everything was slipping away from me, all at once. It couldn’t end like this. It just couldn’t. I wouldn’t let it.

“You only stayed with Luka and Michelle because I liked them. You wanted to switch coaches anyway.”

“But…but…who’s gonna take me now?” I squeaked out.

“Who’s gonna…” It really dawned on me then.

I was labeled a bad sport, a bad bet, and at 5’7, I was too tall for most guy ice dancers.

Finding a partner and a new coach in time would be…

impossible. “Oh my God, Patrick, you need to stay with me.” My eyes widened. “You can’t abandon me like this.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Piper, I’m not abandoning you.

I tried my best to keep going, I just…can’t.

I thought it was being away from home, so we came here, but now I’m realizing, it’s not that.

I’m thirty-two-years-old, I can’t keep barfing from nerves.

I’m ready to coach now. I need to start the next part of my life.

I’m happy with our career. I mean, we’re Olympians, how many people can say that? ”

“But we’re not Olympic gold medalists!” I laid my forehead down on the table with a smack. “I can’t believe this.”

“We still got to the Olympics, Piper. That’s a huge feat. You should be proud of that. Maybe we could coach together,” he said in a hopeful tone. “We’re a great team. And Piper, your legs, you shouldn’t be—”

“No.” I picked up my head to glare at him. “I am not quitting.”

His shoulders fell. “Okay, I’m sorry.” He blew out a sigh. “It’ll be okay, Piper, it will. I’ll spread the word that you’re looking for a partner. I’m sure there will be some shake ups after the summer. ”

“ After the summer? ” I shrieked. His eyes darted around us. He was clearly uncomfortable that I was causing a scene in this fancy ass restaurant, but I couldn’t hold in my emotions. “Patrick, I need someone now! This fall is the start of the Olympic cycle!”

His throat bobbed with a swallow. “I know.”

I slammed my hand on the table, almost knocking over our wine glasses. “And you’re still quitting?”

“Piper…” His eyes rounded with apology.

“There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?” I asked, desperation seeping into my voice.

He slowly shook his head. “No. I’m really sorry.

I don’t want this to wreck our relationship.

We had a great run, and we accomplished so much together.

You’re one of my best friends, Piper. I care about you, I really do, but when I think of going to the Olympics again, I don’t feel excited, I just feel nauseous.

” The words caught in his throat, and he choked up for a second. “I’m really sorry.”

My heart pretty much shriveled up. “Okay.” I reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “I care about you too, Patrick.”

He stood and pulled me into a hug. People were staring at us, but I didn’t care, I needed that hug.

“I’ll do anything I can to help you, all right?” he whispered. “You know I will.”

Just not skate , I mentally quipped. But I swallowed down the pain and nodded against him.

“Do you need a ride to the airport in the morning?”

“No, I’ll just order an uber,” I told him with a weak smile. I didn’t trust myself to be in the car with him for a whole half hour. I’d end up screaming at him in desperation, which really would wreck our relationship.

We spent the rest of the night avoiding talk of skating. We chatted about his family, my family, our friends in Chicago, literally anything and everything except for figure skating. But in the back of my mind, that’s all I could think about.

After finishing dinner, he gave me another hug.

It wouldn’t be the same. I’d spent years holding his hand, leaning on him, him leaning on me, working together toward the same dreams. I could practically read his mind. His body sometimes felt like an extension of my own on the ice. We were partners. And now we weren’t. Just like that.

I’d never felt quite so alone in my entire life.

________

After checking out of my hotel the next morning, I stood out on the curb in the drizzly cold rain, waiting for my uber.

But as soon as my designated car pulled up, two teenage guys ran past me, laughing and shoving my shoulder in the process.

They ran right in front of me, right into my car, and slammed the door shut behind them.

I ran forward, trying to flag the driver, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He took off quickly, probably thinking I was a crazy person. His tires spun and the dirty water splashed up way higher than I expected, absolutely drenching me.

I stood stock still, completely shocked as the dirty water seeped down my face, into my clothes, into every crack and crevice in my body.

Feeling a mixture of frustration and disgust, I screamed up at the stormy sky, “I hate this fucking city!” And I was never returning to this city, maybe even this country , ever again.

People on the busy sidewalk gave me dirty looks, but I didn’t care.

I flung my stupid suitcase away from me before plopping my ass on the curb.

All I wanted to do was break down and cry—and shower—but I already checked out of my hotel, so there was no going back inside. Besides, even if I could take a shower, I didn’t have enough time before my flight.

Pulling out my phone to order another uber, my phone dinged with an incoming text from Patrick, making my heart rate spike. A small part of me still hoped he’d have a come-to-Jesus moment and change his mind.

But my heart fell as soon as I read the text: Have a safe flight, let me know if you need anything. Tossing my phone in my purse, my heart went right back to its place at the bottom of my fucking stomach.