She may never have hit him—to my knowledge, at least—but she was abusive. This was the biggest competition of Theo’s life. She should only be supporting him.

And I wasn’t supposed to care, but I marched to the door—and sure enough, Patricia Sullivan almost pitched inside when I opened it. The only thing missing was a stethoscope she could press to the wood to better eavesdrop.

She stumbled, catching herself and giving me a wide, insincere smile. “Oh hello, Henry. How are you after that nasty collision?”

“I’m calling security.” I pushed the door shut.

Her foot shot out to stop it as she tried to peer around me. “Theo! I know you’re in there. What do you think you’re playing at? Enough of this nonsense. Do you even want to win?”

At my side, Theo snarled, “You know what, Mom? Screw you. What I do is none of your business. You have no right being here!”

Her gaze narrowed on me. “I thought you’d be a good influence on my son. But you’ve manipulated him, I know it.”

Though my feet were planted in the doorway, Theo squirmed in front of me. “Don’t you talk about Henry. Don’t you dare! It’s none of your business. God, just get out.”

“How can you speak to your own mother like this?” Her voice wavered, tears filling her eyes on cue.

“How?” He practically shouted. “You want to know how? Fine. Buckle up.”

Chapter Eighteen

Theo

I stormed out of Henry’s room. There were other athletes down the hall looking at us, but whatever. I was done. I was so fucking done.

“I’m twenty-five. I know being homeschooled and growing up in the skating world means I’m more like nineteen, but I’m an adult. You don’t get a say in my life or my training. Obviously that hasn’t stopped you from giving your opinions every single chance you get. But you’re not in control. I am.”

“I know that,” she huffed with the nerve to act offended.

My fingers twitched at my sides, and my whole head felt boiling hot. I’d expected Henry to close the door after me, but he still stood watching. Maybe I should have been embarrassed for him to see me lose it like this, but I was grateful he was there.

I said to my mother, “When I first tried skating, it was so much fun. I loved going fast and spinning. Then I learned to jump, and it was even more fun. But sometimes I wish I’d never been good at it. As soon as I started winning and they told you I could be a champion, it all changed.”

Steam practically coming out of her ears, she glared at Henry. Etienne stood behind him, a silent backup. Mom put on what I thought of as her “public supportive smile,” which she’d perfected years ago.

She said, “And look where you are, darling. The Olympic Games! In first place about to win the gold medal! Of course it required discipline and hard work. I wanted the best for you. I won’t apologize for that. And don’t tell me you don’t enjoy winning!”