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chapter twenty five

i hope they can see my smile from up there

F or whatever reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about my dad this morning.

These past few weeks I’d been so busy that letting him be more than a breezeof a thought was impossible. But now that I wasn’t juggling school, work and training, I've had time to let myself think.

But the thoughts overflowing in my headthis morning weren’t a breeze; they were gale-force winds.

I thought I saw him in my dream last night.It very well could have been him. It certainlyfelt like him. And when I woke up, I swear that I could smell his cologne. Swore that I could make him out in the shadows on the wall.

Then, for the next thirty minutes, I let myselfcry.

I was still working on not feeling guiltywhen I couldn’t bring myself to cry when I thought of him. And I was getting there. But for a brief moment when the tears became too much, when I couldn’t picture myself not crying, I was scared that my spiralling had just been delayed. That my body hadn’t had the time t o catch up with reality but now that it had I was finally crumbling.

Grief was strange like that, coming back toyou in the moments where you’d convinced yourself you were moving on and reminding you, not very subtly, that it was always trailing behind. An invisible tether to what you'd lost.

I texted Daisy when I calmed down and wetalked. After losing her mom, she felt like the only person in the world who understood me at times.

Ten minutes later, I got a text from Finn.

are you feeling better?

did daisy message you?

no. we just spend so much time together that i can slip into your mind at any given moment.

so… it was daisy.

it was daisy.

i’m okay now. thank you.

how are you?

not stopped smiling since thursday

Gol die’s party. Our kiss .

me neither.

apart from this morning.

i also wanted to say good luck for today, bambi. i’ll be thinking about you.

i can’t wait to see the trophy.

i’ll be thinking of you today.

i can’t wait to see you in a knights jersey

bit ambitious of you to think they’d sign me from watching one game.

just speaking it into existence for you

rory?

yes?

ice really like you.

I really like you.

Four words I’d never imagined beingdirected at me, by Finn of all people.

Okay, sure, he said ice. But we all knewwhat he meant… right?

Regardless, those four words were what distracted me from regionals on the drive to the arena, and for that, I was more than grateful.

The anticipation that hung low over thearena was nearly electric. Cheers from the crowd applauding whatever skater was currently performing travelled as far as the dressing rooms. Part of me was thrilled that the crowd cared enough to scream that loud. And part of me wondered if I’d get the same treatment, or whether the skater they were cheering for was simply better than the rest of us.

Once I was warm and squeezed my way intothe basic dress Aspen and I had picked for this routine—a baby pink thing with a feather trimmer skirt and tiny rhinestones gathered to the side on my waist, exploding out onto the fabric like a firework—I stood at the edge of the rink, my skates laced so tightly that I could barely feel my toes. Aspen stood in front of me, her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed.

“One more time,” she said, before shecaught my sigh. “Do not sigh at me, Aurora. I know marking it sucks, but I just want to you be prepared.” She walked towards me, her hands landing on my shoulders. “I know you’re going to kill this; I just need to know that you know that too.”

She needed to define ‘kill it’. Because therewas a very real chance that I’d kill it by forgetting every single move and ending the skate with my face flat against the ice.

I forced a smile, but my hands wouldn’t stopfidgeting. “Will I, though? My axel’s been hit-or-miss all week. And what if I mess up my lutz? You know I always rush the timing.”

Aspen crouched to look me in the eyes, herexpression suddenly serious. "Stop that. You’ve been practising nonstop. I’ve literally watched you nail your lutz like twenty times in a row. And one of them was a triple—“

I lowered my voice. “ Barely a triple .”

“It was a triple, regardless.” Her green eyesroamed mine, her attention was as soothing as it could get, before she nodded. “You’ve come so far, Rory. Remember how terrified you were when you first came to see me? Look at you now!”

I took a moment to take myself back, almostfeeling the shake in my hands from when I saw her for the first time again. That girl would faint if she saw me now, waiting by the ice, ready to perform at regionals.

Regionals.

I really was here, wasn’t I?

My eyes flew around the rink and realityslapped me with every scoreboard and sign they landed on.

“You’re ready.”

My lips twitched as her voice pulled myeyes back to hers, but still, I couldn’t shakethe nerves.

May be my costume was too tight.

I felt my breaths grow heavy, as I arched myhead over my shoulder, just in time to watch the skater before me come out of her spin. “What if I’m not, though? What if this whole thing is a mistake?” My eyes were on Aspen. “What if I trip on my skates or lose my footing on my landings? What if I’m on my ass before I have a chance to show them my barely a triple ?”

Aspen sighed dramatically and grabbed my hands, stopping my fidgeting. “Okay, first of all, no one’s going to care if you fall on your ass. The judges will just want to see how you recover." She caught my eyes as they turned to slits. "Okay maybe they'll care a little, but that wont happen. Second, you’re not going to trip on your skates or mess up any part of this routine unless you get in your head. Which is exactly what you’re doing. So stop it.”

At times like this, I was grateful that Aspenhad this protective older sister side to her. She was my only anchor to reality right now.

“And lastly…” She paused, her tonesoftening. “You made the right choice, Rory. None of this is a mistake. I can see it every time you step on the ice. You belong here.”

My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. And all of a sudden the reason why I was fighting back tears and trying to talk myself out of this fell from my quivering lips.“I wish they were here.”

“I know,” she sighed, her voice gentlernow. “But you know they’d be here if they could. And honestly, they’d probably just stress you out because your dad would make one of those giant banners like he used to do and your mom…” Her eyes wandered like she was recalling the memory. “Well, I think you’re mom would’ve been the calm that you needed, to be honest.”

I looked to Apsen. “You’re doing a prettygood job at being my calm right now. I think Mom taught you a lot more than just skating.”

Aspen nodded, her cherry-red smileblooming. “Maybe.” She let out a little laugh, the airy sound mingling with the echo of the announcer over the tannoy. “But seriously, you’ve worked so hard for this. You’ve earned it. So go out there and show everyone what you can do. And if you fall—”

“Make sure the camera gets the good side ofmy ass?”

I’ve been spending way too much time withFinn. His sarcasm is contagious, I swear.

Aspen's laugh was every bit light, butexactly what we needed. “Smile and get right back up before you can get in your head again.”

Right as she took her warm hands in mine,shaking them as if passing over all the confidence she had in me, the announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers again. “Our final skater is Aurora Greene, from New York City.”

Her hands slid up to my shoulders, squeezing enough to distract me from the way my stomach dropped to my toes. “You belong here. Remember?”

That calm voice barely registered as I nodded.“I remember.”

The hum of the arena buzzed faintly in thebackground, but it was distant, muffled, like I was underwater. My hands trembled slightly as I unwrapped the fleece blanket from my shoulders, warmth clinging to me for one last moment. I passed it over to Aspen without a word, her reassuring smile meeting my nervous one before I watched her head to the coach's den.

I could practically feel the eyes on me as Ireached the gate, but I squared my shoulders, letting my dress shimmer. The hem brushed my thighs as I walked, and the tiny gems scattered across the fabric twinkled under the lights like a galaxy. My sleeves stretched down over my knuckles, hiding my hands—and hopefully, my nerves.

The cold bit at my cheeks, making me blink,and for a split second, I wanted to run back to Aspen, wrap myself up, and beg her to let me disappear. But then my skates brushed the edge of the ice, and something in me shifted. As we became one, everything else—everydoubt, every noise, every what-if—just faded away. My skates glided over the smooth surface, grounding me, anchoring me to the place where I wasn’t pretending to be anyone but myself.

What on earth were you nervous about,Aurora? You know you belong here.

The thought made my smile tug higher, justin time for the music to start and the judges to set their eyes on me.

I’ve got this.

The first few notes curled around me like an embrace, and I let out a breath that felt as though it had been trapped since stepping foot into the building. My hands found their place, my bod y steadying itself as I waited for my cue. The subtle shift from basic piano notes to pretty violin chords made the opening twirl bleed into the first set of crossovers, each one measured, careful.

After lapping half the rink, Iprepped every part of me for the double loop. My knees bent. I held my breath. My back leg swung out. I launched into the jump, my body twisting in the air before landing with a satisfying scrape of my blade against the ice. A quiet “yes!” slipped out under my breath, too soft for anyone else to hear, but it made my lips quirk into a grin.

Whilst applause ebbed from the stands,carrying me into the next sequence.

They like me.

The music swelled in my ears, mingling withmy heartbeat, as it pulled me into the routine’s heart. Aspen had built the short program like a love letter to my strengths, and I could feel her guidance in every beat, every push. The delicate footwork sequence danced beneath me, the glide of my blades flowing effortlessly with the rhythm, and the pretty arm gestures all added up to showcase what I was capable of. What I thrived at.

But then came the jump combination, theone part of the program that always gave me pause. It wasn’t the most difficult on paper, but there was a timing to it that felt like threading a needle in mid-air. I circled the setup, my heart skittering in my chest as I found the right angle.

You’ve got this. Breathe.

I p ushed off hard, the first jump spinningcleanly beneath me, my body snapping back into alignment as I hit the ice. There was no time to celebrate—the second jump loomed. My muscles coiled, and I soared into the air again. This time, my landing wobbled, my free leg swinging for balance as my clean lines turned wavey. The routine was lost on me for a beat or two, and before I could sink into the quiet tension that flowed from every single person in here, I gathered my breaths and caught myself before it could turn into a full stumble.

“ Close one, ” I whispered, a nervous laughbubbling in my throat.

The rest routine pulled me forward, into aspread eagle that sent me gliding effortlessly across the rink. I spun into the next movement, pouring every ounce of emotion begging to slip out into the strain of my legs as I committed to the lutz.

The triple.

I was back on two skates before I couldregister that I’d landed it. My heart was in my throat. My lungs burnt. And anyone would think by the reaction of the crowd that there was a fire somewhere.

The music softened, and so did mymovements, and my breaths. My arms rosegracefully as I slowed into a spiral sequence. The pink fabric of my dress fluttered as I leaned into the stretch, my body folding into a perfect arch. The audience’s hush wrapped around me, and I almost felt them holding their breath with me.

As the music built to its finale, so did I. Mylegs tensed as I powered through the last few seconds, gathering every ounce of ene rgy for the final spin. My body dropped low, then rose high into a blur of motion, my arms pulling tight as the spin gained speed. The crowd’s applause swelled just as the music stopped, and I froze in my final pose, chest heaving, arms extended.

For a moment, I just stood there, my skatesrooted to the ice with such a stance that it was hard to tell where I started and the ice ended.

Reality came rushing back in awave—cheers, claps, and the tidal waves of emotion coursing through me. My cheeks burned red, and my breath came fast, but the weight in my chest lifted.

Right now I truly didn’t care about what anyone else thought. How I’d be scored. If, at the end of today, I’d realised this whole thing had been a waste.

Because I’d done it. For myself.

“Do you see it?” I asked Aspen, my headburied into my hands as we sat in the common room, my knees tucked to my chest.

Turns out that maybe a small part of mecared about the outcome. And that small part was starting to devour me whole.

“Not yet,” She muttered, which only mademy stomach twist into knots.

My long programme went just as well as theshort, with only another wobble during my axel landing that could have thrown me. But that wasn’t why I was worried. I was worried because I’d made the rookie error of watching everyone else's skates.

These girls were good.

Really good.

The kind of good that only came fromeating, sleeping and breathing skating from the second they could walk.I was in my head. I knew I was. But it felt like a safer place to be than in the moment.I’d placed fifth after the short so my chancesof going to sectionals weren’t great, but not so bad that I couldn’t pull it back in the long. But what if that wobble was the deciding factor of this entire thing being a waste of time?

“She’s here,” Aspen said, but I kept myhands firmly pressed against my face.

Not knowing whether this whole thing wasstupid would be better. I could live with not knowing, actually. If I never knew then I’d never have to come clean to the others about failing. In fact, I should just walk out—

“You need to see this.” It was Aspen’s voice,but I refused to open my eyes, even as she gripped my arm and pulled me from my chair, walking me over to where I assumed the score sheet was posted.

I turned to Aspen as we came to a stop,keeping my eyes clamped shut. “What if my name isn’t even up there? What if I’m dead last? Oh God, I’m dead last aren’t I?”

“Rory, you are not dead last,” Aspen saidfirmly, though her voice had an edge of impatience. “Will you just look?”

I h esitated, every nerve in my body tellingme to look away, then forced myself to scan the list. Names I’d never seen before blurred together until my eyes landed on mine.

Aurora Greene—Fourth Place.

“I…” My voice caught. “Aspen. I’m fourth.”

Aspen let out a piercing shriek that turned afew heads. “Rory, you’re going to sectionals!”

I stood frozen, staring at my name. The weight of it hit me all at once—this wasn’t just a good performance. This was validation.

I was on the right path. My path.

“Are you crying?” Aspen asked, her tonesoftening as she noticed the tears brimming in my eyes.

I laughed, wiping at my face. “Maybe. Idon’t know. It’s just… I wish they could’ve seen this. They would’ve been so proud.”

Aspen pulled me into a tight hug, her armswarm and grounding. “They are proud, Rory. Wherever they are, they’re so proud of you.” She tugged me tighter, but I had a feeling squishing my ears against her was just to keep me from hearing the cracks in her voice. “And so am I.”

I hugged her back, the noise from the bottle neck of skaters crowding the sheet fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

When we'd both stopped crying and Aspen got caught up with the othercoaches, I found myself wandering over to the judge' s table. “Could I get my copy of the leaderboard?” I asked, my fingers locked.

An auburn-haired woman smiled up at me.“Sure thing, honey.” She chirped, before handing me the sheet.

“Thank you,” I muttered, before taking thesheet and bolting out of the arena. I ran until I saw the exit doors, not thinking twice before pushing them open and running out into the fall air. My smile ached as I lifted my hands and held up the paper to the sky.

And for a moment I let myself pretend thatthey could see it. I let myself imagine Mom and Dad celebrating somewhere in the clouds.

It was what had me smiling instead of breaking down. Making this a moment to remember everything I had to live for, and noteverything I’d lost.