“I know.”

“I mean, Henry hates your guts, and he was definitely judgy about your lunch, but I didn’t think you had a problem with him,” Julien said as he peeled a banana.

It shouldn’t have bothered me at all, but it did. It nagged at me all damn day.

Did he really hate me?

Yeah, we were competitors and the two top skaters in the world for four years now since the last Olympics. But he was giving me rides now. Surely he wasn’t that Canadianly polite.

I had a late off-ice strengthening session with the trainer in the windowless dungeon gym, so I texted Henry that I’d get a Lyft. I could have just told him, but I figured he didn’t want to talk to me after what a dick I’d been. It was only fair to let him off the hook.

I worked with the trainer on strengthening my non-dominant leg and the whole left side of my body as well so I wasn’t off-balance. I did a hundred jumps a day landing on my right leg, so the left couldn’t be left out.

“You coming to the extra session tomorrow morning?” the trainer, Maggie, asked as she sat on a weight bench and watched my one-legged squats. I was barefoot, my toes spread wide.

I opened my mouth to say hell no, Saturday was for sleeping in, but hesitated. “What’s the focus again?”

“Natalia Platova is teaching a masterclass in edges.”

“Oh, right.” She was a legend, and it was amazing she was still traveling around giving seminars in her eighties. “Yeah, for sure.”

Mr. Webber would love the idea since he’d always been a Natalia fanboy. My theory was that they’d had a torrid, forbidden affair a million years ago when they were both competing while she was trapped in communist Russia.

Yes, he’d like me taking her class, even if it was a group thing. The last few times I’d called, he’d sounded really tired and hadn’t been able to talk long.

I kept thinking about what Henry said after Skate Canada. I really did want to make Mr. Webber proud. I was determined to crush it at the Grand Prix Final in December.

My quad burned as I lowered into another squat and then pushed up to a calf raise, core tight for balance with my hands held out in front of me. “It would be stupid to miss it.”

“It would,” Maggie agreed with a shrewd look. “So I’d skip the partying tonight.” She made a circular motion with her hand, and I performed a series of quick twitch jumps on one foot—backward, then forward.

“I haven’t even had a glass of wine since Skate Canada!” I swiped at the sweat on my forehead, indignant. “Just because I like to relax and have a good time once in a while doesn’t mean I do it all the time.”

She held up her hands. “I believe you.”

But I could tell she didn’t. Not really. I mean, yes, had I gotten wasted in the past? Sure. Especially when I was a teenager and living in the prison of my parents’ house under the watchful eye of Warden Mom.