“Making this move at the end of September isn’t ideal,” Bill said, holding his meaty hands out wide. “But we have more than four months until the Olympics.”

“A hundred and twenty-nine days,” I said automatically. “He can’t change coaches now.”

I swiped at my bangs impatiently. My hair was sweaty from my morning jump drills, and it flopped into my face. When I styled it, my bangs made a neat swoop, but I was due for a cut.

I was fortunate to have thick hair, and my grandma still mentioned how naturally black it was. Obaachan grew up in Japan and had always dyed her brown hair jet black.

“We wouldn’t even consider taking on Theo if we thought this would harm your training. It’s going to fuel you.” Manon’s brown eyes lit up as she leaned forward. “This is the final key in your Olympic preparation. It won’t be easy, but this will make you stronger.”

“You know how many recent world and Olympic champions trained with their fiercest rivals,” Bill said. “Look at the Russians. That daily motivation and competition is powerful stuff. I wish like hell I’d had it back in my day.”

Bill had once been Canadian men’s champion, although he’d be the first to admit he only won that year because the favorites messed up. Still, he’d gone to Worlds a few times and had made an Olympic team. He’d become known as one of the best jump technicians in coaching, second perhaps only to the legendary Walter Webber, who’d been his coach.

“I have competition here. Ivan is almost landing his quad Sal. He’s a national champion.”

Manon raised a narrow eyebrow. “You know as well as we do that Ivan represents Ukraine because he’s not strong enough to make the Russian team. We’re very proud of how far he’s come, but he’s not a medal contender.”

“If Julien was old enough to compete as a senior, he could be.” My heart thumped. This wasn’t part of the plan. Theodore Sullivan coming to Toronto to train was not the plan.

Bill said, “True, but he’s not, and Theo is currently ranked number one in the world.”

I was very, very aware of that fact. “But you’re my coaches.” I cringed at my plaintive tone. I was an adult. I shouldn’t have an emotional reaction to this news. Skating and coaching were a business.

Their faces softened, and Manon reached across the ring-stained table to briefly squeeze my hand. “We are. And we’re committed to helping you be your very best. You know we love you, Henry.”

The saggy love seat springs creaked as I squirmed, dropping my gaze and nodding. Manon spoke so openly about love and feelings, but it made me want to be anywhere else. Not that I didn’t appreciate it and reciprocate her affection, but did it really have to be said aloud?

“He’s been taking from Mr. Webber for a long time.” I thought back and calculated. “Four years. He won Worlds in March. There’s no reason to switch coaches.”