“Are we there yet?”
“I swear to God I will leave you in this airport,” Nate grumbles, slapping my ass, laughing when the noise causes an elderly couple to turn around and look at us, making my cheeks blush.
We’re currently rushing to our connecting flight at Denver, and Nate is as cheerful as ever after our early morning flight from Seattle. I wasn’t expecting to be sad leaving Seattle, but I was. I still am.
The way my mom and dad reacted to me wanting to go out for dinner, not skate, and cook for them, shows me how militant I’ve been during my previous trips. Letting go of those issues, even for the two days we were there, has done more for my well-being than any therapy session. When we left this morning, I promised I’d be back soon, and I genuinely meant it.
Yesterday I spent the entire day being a tour guide, showing Nate everything the city has to offer until our noses were frozen, and we couldn’t possibly stomach any more hot chocolate.
I’ve been living in LA too long because I could feel the drop in temperature. Nathan joked I was in for a nasty shock when we reached his house, and I’d learn what cold truly feels like. He’s promised that at least 90 percent of our time can be spent in front of the fire, so I think I’ll learn to cope with that other 10 percent.
I loved playing tour guide, and we were seriously tired by the time we got home. Watching Nathan being the charming and caring man that he is, watching my parents learn that, too, has been a dream. Not to forget, watching him stuff his six-foot-four frame in a onesie has been the highlight of my year.
This trip has been a lot of Nathan watching—which is very easy because he’s so pretty.
He spent hours last night talking about hockey with my dad, telling him all about joining Vancouver in the summer when he graduates, and Dad was understandably impressed.
“I can’t wait to watch you play. Now I’m not promising to switch teams, but you win the Stanley Cup and I might consider it,” he joked.
It was a weird mix of emotions for Nathan, I think. All he’s ever wanted was for his own Dad to pay even the slightest bit of interest in his career, and yet someone who was essentially a stranger forty-eight hours earlier is so genuinely excited for him.
Hockey aside, my mom might be in love with my boyfriend, which makes me happy but also a little scared for my dad. I offered to cook biriyani for dinner to save Mom a job, but also to show off my new cooking skills a little. She sat staring at me, teary eyed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, a skeptical eyebrow raised.
“Nothing’s wrong, honey,” she murmured, seemingly holding back the tears. “I’m proud of you. You’re home, happy, and healthy. You have a wonderful boyfriend. I’m your mom, so I’m allowed to be emotional when I see my daughter thriving.”
She wanted to know everything, how we met, how we got together and I, uh, had to get creative with the truth. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to talk about me and Nate without also talking about Aaron.
“That little shit,” she fumed, aggressively chopping cilantro. “Wait until I see him.”
His accident and our argument weren’t the difficult part; she tutted and rolled her eyes at some bits, knowing exactly how Aaron can sometimes be. It was when I reached his fight with Henry that things became awkward.
“He said…” I paused, wondering if it was something I could stomach repeating out loud. Sighing, I reached over and took the kitchen knife off her. “He said nobody would ever be able to love me because my birth parents couldn’t.”
Her eyes widened, face rapidly paling as she gripped the kitchen counter.
“And if that wasn’t bad enough, he said you guys only want me to fill up the trophy cabinet.”
There was no emotion to my words as I said them; I used them all crying into Nate’s chest a week ago. But watching my mom’s face sink into horror made me want to weep.
“He didn’t,” she said, voice hardly above a whisper. I nodded, letting her tackle me with an oxygen stealing hug. Burying her face into my hair, she choked on her words. “How could anyone think that? How? Why? What? What the hell is wrong with him?”
“He hurts people when he’s hurting,” I explained with a sigh, detaching her with great difficulty. She took my head in her hands, kissing my forehead affectionately. “Don’t say it. You don’t need to.”
“I do need to. You are the best thing that ever happened to us, Anastasia. The absolute best. How talented you are adds to what makes you so special, but I loved you long before you put on a pair of ice skates.”
“I know.” It wasn’t a lie. Beneath the insecurity and the self-induced pressure, I know my parents love me. They didn’t jump through the hoops of the American public adoption system, hoping that they might get a sporty kid. They wanted to complete their family.
“What are you going to do about him?” she asked.
The impossible question I wish I had an answer to.
Understandably, Nate wants to lock me away and refuse to let Aaron even look in my direction ever again; Sabrina isn’t far behind him with that plan. But the reality of the situation is I don’t have much choice when he’s my partner.
I was expecting to hear from him after the fight, but there’s been nothing. Sabrina told me he left for Chicago and wouldn’t be back until the new year, and I know spending the holidays with his fighting parents will only put him in a worse mood.
I’m slowly making my peace with the fact that my friendship with Aaron has taken all the strain it can handle. I can no longer be a doormat for a broken man to dump his emotional baggage when he refuses to even attempt to help himself.