And I need to be by her side, not attacking her from a different spot on the field.
“I owe you an apology,” I blurt out, definitely not in the smooth, calm way I was hoping for. “I haven’t been fair and I’m sorry, Anastasia. I really am.”
She slides her hand across the table and links it with mine. “It’s okay. Thank you for apologizing.”
“You’re the most important thing in my life. I’m not sure if you know that or not, but you are, and I’ve been selfish. I’ve put you in a difficult situation, making you feel like you need to choose between us or something. You don’t and I want you to know I support your goals.” She nods along, letting me trip over my words and ramble quickly, telling her how I feel. She doesn’t interrupt or say anything; she gives me the space I need to try to get how I’m feeling out in the open. “Iamlistening now. I promise you I am, I hear you and I get that I need to let you get on with it and handle Aaron the way you see fit.”
When she senses that I’m done, she brings our linked hands to her mouth, and pecks a kiss on my knuckles. The look of relief on her face right now is overwhelming, which to be honest makes me feel worse, because she must have been struggling with this more than I realized.
I feel relieved, too, it’s funny because she can be the most hotheaded and stubborn person, but when it comes to talking things out, she has the patience of a saint. And I needed that patience to fix this.
“Nobody is replacing you, Nathan. Every minute I spend skating with him, I’m thinking about how much I wish you’d taken up figure skating when you were a kid, not hockey. Therapy changed me for the better, it might with him, it might not. What happens outside of that arena isn’t my concern anymore.”
“I’m sorry for how I’ve spoken to you recently.”
She doesn’t acknowledge it; she squeezes my hand. “Do you want to hear something funny?”
“Right now? Yes, absolutely.” Anything to get the topic on something other than me being a bad boyfriend.
“I made Aaron storm off during practice today.” She giggles, bringing her wine glass to her lips. “In the middle of practice he got in his car and drove home. I had to get an Uber, but it was worth it.”
“What happened?”
“He kept huffing and puffing every time he had to lift or catch me, so I asked him if he needed to work harder in the gym. Told him I know he lifts heavier than me, so what was his problem. He, uh, did not like that one bit.” Her nose crinkles as she shrugs, clearly not giving one fuck about Aaron.
“I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?” I say, talking more to myself than her.
“Not even a little bit, I have it all under control. You helped me be strong enough to deal with it.” Her eyes look past me, and she smiles so fucking brightly that I think someone famous walked in, but no, she starts excited fidgeting in her seat. “Oh! I think our food is coming!”
* * *
I’mreluctant to let her out of the car when I pull up at Maple Tower, but I have to.
“I’ll be back Saturday night,” she mumbles. “We can spend the whole of Sunday together, I promise.”
Stassie is going to San Diego in the morning for nationals, and we decided the most responsible thing to do was to sleep in our own beds. Neither of us wants to, but she needs to concentrate on relaxing tonight, and that isn’t going to be possible at my house. If I were to stay here, she’d spend the entire night anxious about me and Aaron being in the same space.
This is the right choice, even if it makes us both temporarily unhappy.
She climbs across the center console to straddle my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her forehead against me. “I love you,” she whispers, pressing her mouth to mine. “I need to get out or I’m going to end up letting you fuck me in a parking garage.”
She opens my door and climbs off me, giving me one last kiss before heading toward the elevator. I watch to make sure she gets in safely, then put the car in drive, hoping that this boner will be gone by the time I get home.
FORTY-SEVEN | ANASTASIA
There’s beena weird ache in my chest since I arrived home and it won’t go away.
It might be pre-competition nerves. I don’t think anyone would blame me, considering tomorrow is the biggest thing I’ve ever faced. The Olympics aren’t for another two years, but there are so many other international competitions I can compete at. It’s how I show Team USA what I’m capable of, what I can offer, whatweoffer.
All the heartache it took to be ready for this weekend needs to mean something.
Ithasto be worth it.
Sabrina knows to leave me alone when I’m like this, there is nothing she can say or do that’s going to make me feel better, and I’d rather be alone with my thoughts, anyway. I’ve ticked off everything on my iPad, showered, settled down in bed with my favorite Titans T-shirt on, and that should be enough, but it just…isn’t.
The T-shirt is fresh out of the machine, so it smells strongly of detergent. It’s a smell I’ve always loved; the smell of clean washing means I’ve done my laundry, which means I’ve ticked something as complete in my planner. But for some reason, the smell is adding to the ache.
It doesn’t smell like Nathan anymore.