I know you ate pizza yesterday. Do you even care about winning???

I shut off my phone and shoved it in my bag. She probably had the workers at every restaurant in the Village on her spy payroll. So I’d had one piece of pizza! I’d eaten seared salmon and a big salad for lunch. I’d exercised for hours later, and the pizza had smelled amazing.

At least Dad and my sisters were coming next week for my event. Until then, Mom would be here on her own, and I could only avoid her so much. She was up in the stands now to watch practice with her pals from the federation.

It was our turn, and my heart leapt as I filed into line to take the ice. Henry was bent at the gate, putting on his guards, his hair falling over his forehead. I hadn’t seen him in person since the airport, and I drank in the lean lines of his legs and narrow hips.

I remembered the secure pressure of his hand over my mouth in the stall, his cock inside me as he gave me what I needed…

The tension in my shoulders eased, and I wished we could escape together for a few minutes. A minute wouldn’t hurt, would it? We could just check in. It made me grin just to look at him again. I’d gotten so used to being near him. I was antsy and scattered without his calm. I’d never missed another person this much.

But when Henry walked past me with the other skaters, his eyes didn’t even flick to me for a second. Which was fine! This was the deal. He was focusing. I couldn’t be mad about that. Now it was my turn.

Too bad I wasn’t doing a good job of it after half the practice time. I was searching for my landings, and I popped my quad toe, which was fucking ridiculous.

I circled the rink, dodging out of Wang Zhan’s way as he finished a killer quad Sal-Euler-triple toe combo. I launched into another quad toe, too impatient again but at least landing it this time and squeaking a decent enough triple on the end. I returned to Manon and Bill by the boards to gulp water.

“That was better,” I said, taking a tissue and blowing my nose.

“Mmm.” Manon didn’t seem impressed.

Bill said, “Don’t be satisfied.”

That had been one of Mr. Webber’s favorite motivational instructions, and a swell of emotion throat punched me. I could barely swallow my sip of water.

“That’s what he told me,” Bill added, giving my shoulder a squeeze-shake. “I didn’t always listen, though.”

“Me either.” I managed a smile. “But I can pull it off when it counts.” Since I was kid, I usually had.

Manon nodded. “Your turn for music. Full run-through.”

Wang Zhan’s short program music finished, and I took my spot. We each had a chance to do a run-through to our music, and some skaters only did bits and pieces of their programs. Kuznetzov never did the whole thing, but I dutifully skated through my program as Sinatra sang “Fly Me to the Moon.”