Page 17

VICTORIA

M y fingers tremble as I scroll through another hateful comment on the Fletcher Dance Academy’s Instagram page, the hotel room’s air conditioning suddenly feeling ice-cold against my skin.

‘ Of course the fat dance teacher would throw herself at a hockey player. Desperate much? #He’sTheBeautyAndShe’sTheBeast #PoorDeclan’

I swipe to the next notification, each one worse than the last.

‘ Just saw your ‘teacher’ embarrassing herself on national TV. Is this who’s teaching our children? No thanks!’

‘ Always knew there was something off about her. Now we know she was just using her position to hook up with athletes.’

Tears blur my vision as I click on my studio’s business page. The review section, which had been filled with mostly five-star ratings from happy parents and students, now has a flood of one-star reviews from accounts I’ve never seen before.

‘ Unprofessional owner. AVOID!’

Olivia’s hand settles on my shoulder, startling me. I’d almost forgotten she was here in the hotel room with me.

“Victoria, please stop looking at those,” she says gently, trying to take the phone from my hands. “They’re just trolls. They don’t know you.”

“They don’t have to know me to destroy everything I’ve built,” I whisper, my voice cracking. I show her a text from my assistant instructor back in Peach Springs.

2IC: Call me ASAP. Parents are calling with questions about what they’re seeing online. Three families already canceled lessons for next week. What’s going on?

“It’s happening again,” I say, more to myself than to Olivia. “It’s all happening again, just like with Anton, except worse, because now it’s not just about me. It’s about my studio, my students, everything I’ve worked for.”

Olivia squeezes my shoulder, her face full of concern. “I’m so sorry, Victoria.”

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with a direct message on Instagram. It’s from a hockey fan account with thousands of followers, asking for the exclusive to my side of the story about my relationship with Declan O’Rielly. As if my life is suddenly the latest episode of a reality show no one bothered to tell me I’d auditioned for.

“I need to go home,” I say suddenly, standing up from the edge of the bed where we’ve been sitting. “I need to get back to Peach Springs and fix this before I lose everything.”

“Victoria, you can’t just run?—”

“Watch me,” I interrupt, yanking open the closet where I’ve carefully hung my clothes. I begin pulling them down and shoving them haphazardly into my suitcase. “I knew this would happen. I knew it, and I let myself forget because...”

Because I was falling in love with him.

The thought hits me with stunning clarity, stopping me mid-motion, a sweater clutched in my hands like a lifeline.

“Because you care about him,” Olivia finishes for me, her voice soft with understanding.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak as a fresh wave of tears threatens.

“Then talk to him before you decide anything,” she pleads. “He’ll be back soon. The team bus is already on its way.”

“What’s there to talk about?” I ask, resuming my packing with renewed determination. “This isn’t his fault. I don’t blame him. But I have a responsibility to my studio, to my students. Some of them are already dealing with body image issues, with bullying. How can I help them if I’m a punchline on the internet? If their parents are pulling them from classes because their teacher is trending for all the wrong reasons?”

Olivia watches me with sad eyes as I zip up my suitcase. “At least wait until he gets back. You owe him that much.”

She’s right, and I know it. As much as every instinct is screaming at me to flee, to retreat to the safety of Peach Springs and damage control, I can’t just disappear. Not after everything Declan and I have shared.

“You’re right,” I agree, setting my packed suitcase by the door. “I’ll wait for him. But then I’m going home.”

Olivia nods, seemingly relieved that I’m not bolting immediately. “Do you want me to stay with you until he gets here?”

I shake my head. “I need some time alone. To think about what I’m going to say.”

After Olivia leaves, promising to check in later, I sit on the edge of the bed, phone in hand. I can’t stop myself from refreshing my notifications, watching in real time as the situation worsens. My private messages are filling with a mix of invasive questions, crude propositions, and outright mockery.

A text from Shelby appears:

Shelby: Just saw what’s happening online. Don’t listen to those jerks. Call me ASAP. Love you.

I should call—Shelby’s been my rock through every crisis since kindergarten—but I can’t talk about this yet, not even with her. Instead, I type:

Me: I’m OK. Coming home tonight. Will call when I’m there.

I set down my phone and walk to the window, gazing out at the San Francisco skyline without really seeing it. How did everything fall apart so quickly? Just hours ago, I was standing in that arena, bursting with pride as I watched Declan execute the perfect spin move we’d practiced so many times. I was happy. We were happy.

One impulsive kiss. That’s all it took to bring it all crashing down, to expose me to exactly the kind of public scrutiny I’d spent years trying to hide from.

The sound of a key card in the door pulls me from my thoughts. I take a deep breath and steel myself for what comes next.

Declan enters the room, his face etched with worry that deepens when he sees my suitcase by the door. He looks exhausted, his hair still damp from the post-game shower, his eyes haunted with regret.

“Victoria,” he says, his voice rough. “I am so, so fucking sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I reply automatically, my arms wrapped protectively around myself. “You were excited about the goal. You weren’t thinking.”

“That’s no excuse,” he insists, stepping toward me but stopping when I unconsciously step back. The hurt that flashes across his face makes my chest ache. “I promised to protect you from exactly this, and I failed.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. What matters is what’s happening now.” I pick up my phone and hand it to him. “This is what I was afraid of, Declan. This is why I didn’t want us to go public.”

He takes the phone, his expression darkening as he scrolls through the hateful comments and messages. His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

“These people,” he growls, a dangerous edge to his voice I’ve never heard before. “I’ll make this right, Victoria. I’ll issue a statement, talk to PR, get these comments taken down?—”

“You can’t fix this,” I interrupt, taking my phone back from him. “The damage is already done. I’m already losing students. Parents are pulling their kids from my classes because they don’t want their children caught up in this mess.”

“Then we’ll fight it together,” he insists, reaching for my hands. This time I let him take them, his warm fingers closing around mine. I almost allow myself to fall into his arms, to let him hold me and kiss all of this hurt away. But that’s not what I need right now. It’s not what my students need. “Don’t run away, Victoria. Not from this. Not from us.”

The desperation in his eyes nearly breaks my resolve. For a brief, tempting moment, I imagine staying, letting Declan shield me from the storm, believing that somehow we could weather this together.

But then I remember Anton Petrov’s mocking laughter, and his cold and dismissive tone as he denied our relationship to the entire ballet company. It all rises back to the surface.

“This has happened before,” I say quietly, pulling my hands from his grasp. “Not the social media part, but the public humiliation.”

Declan looks at me, confusion in his expression. “What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath and finally tell him about my time with the Granite City Ballet and Anton Petrov, about secret rehearsals and stolen moments, about promises whispered when we were alone. How he’d insisted we keep our relationship private, only for me to discover he was ashamed to be seen with the ‘fat girl’…

As I speak, Declan’s expression shifts from confusion to horror to cold fury.

“If I ever meet this guy,” he says when I finish, his voice deadly quiet, “I’ll break every bone in his body.”

Despite everything, a small smile tugs at my lips. “That’s sweet, in a concerning potential-felony kind of way.”

“I’m serious, Victoria.” He steps closer, and I don’t even think about shying away. “I am nothing like that asshole. I would never be ashamed of you, of us.”

“I know that,” I assure him, and I mean it. “This isn’t about you, Declan. I trust you. But I don’t trust the world not to be cruel, and I’m not strong enough to go through this again.”

“You’re the strongest person I know,” he argues, his hands coming up to frame my face. “And you wouldn’t be facing it alone this time.”

I lean into his touch despite myself, memorizing the feeling of his skin against mine. “It’s not just about me. My studio, my students—they’re my responsibility. I can’t let them become collateral damage in this... this circus.”

His thumbs brush away tears I hadn’t realized were falling. “Tell me what to do, Victoria. Anything. I’ll do anything to make this right.”

Looking into his eyes, so full of sincerity and pain, I almost waver. But then my phone buzzes with another notification, and I know I can’t back down.

“I have to go home.” The words catch in my throat. “Talk to parents, manage the fallout, protect what I’ve built. I have to fix this— myself. ”

“Let me come with you,” he pleads. “The team has three days off after tonight. I could help?—”

“No,” I cut him off, gentle but firm. “That would only make things worse right now. You showing up in Peach Springs would turn this into an even bigger story.”

Declan’s hands drop from my face, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “So that’s it? You’re just leaving?”

“I don’t know what else to do,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I wish things were different. I wish we’d met in some other life, where who we are and what we look like didn’t matter to anyone but us.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. Your size, your shape—none of that has ever mattered to me. From the moment I saw you walk into that rink, I fell in love with every part of you.”

His words pierce through me, sweet and agonizing all at once. The first ‘I love you’ between us, and it’s happening as we’re falling apart.

“I know,” I say, tears flowing freely now. “I fell in love with you, too. And that’s what makes this so hard.”

I move past him to grab my suitcase, knowing if I stay any longer, my resolve will crumble completely. Declan watches me, his eyes bright with unshed tears of his own.

“This isn’t goodbye,” he says suddenly, conviction hardening his voice. “I’m not giving up on us, Victoria. Take the time you need. Go home, handle what you need to handle. But I’m not letting you go. Not like this.”

I pause at the door, my heart splitting in two. “Declan?—”

“No,” he interrupts, crossing the room to stand before me. ““I love you too much to let this be the end. I know you’re scared. I know you’re hurting. But what we have is worth fighting for. We belong together, twinkle toes.”

Despite myself, a shaky laugh escapes. “Only you would call me that right now.”

He brushes a piece of hair off my forehead, gentle and tender. “I’ll call you anything you want, say anything I need to, so long as it gets you to understand who you belong to. Who I belong to.”

He leans down and kisses me, soft and lingering. It’s a goodbye and a promise all at once, and I can’t help but kiss him back with everything I have. I memorize the pressure of his lips, the taste of him, the slight stubble on his jaw beneath my fingertips—storing these sensations like treasures I might never find again.

“Call me when you get home.”

“I will,” I promise, the words insufficient for the emotions churning inside me. I don’t know if I’ll have anything to say when I do. But I want to hear his voice again. I want that future to still exist.

“No matter what time, OK?”

With a nod, I take one last look at his face—the face I’ve woken up beside every morning for the past couple of weeks, the face I’ve come to cherish more than I ever thought possible—and turn to walk out the door, my vision blurred with tears.

In the elevator, I finally let the sobs come, my body shaking with the force of them. My phone buzzes in my pocket, a constant reminder of the storm I’m heading into. But beneath the fear and the pain, there’s a small, stubborn flame of something I didn’t expect to feel.

Hope.

Because unlike with Anton, unlike with every other time I’ve retreated from potential hurt, there’s a part of me that desperately wants to believe Declan is right—that what we have is bigger than all of this.

But first, I have a studio to save, students to protect, and a life in Peach Springs to reclaim. And I need to do it alone, before I can even think about whether there’s room in that life for a blue- eyed hockey player who somehow saw past every defense I had and performed a slapshot right into my heart.

The elevator doors open to the lobby, and I straighten my shoulders, wiping away my tears. Whatever comes next, I’ll face it on my feet. The way I’ve faced every challenge. Only this time, the hardest part isn’t fighting the world.

It’s walking away from the only man who’s ever looked at me and seen my worth—even when I couldn’t.