They were good about giving me time to find the right words, but I could see the tension in their bodies. They wanted this opportunity. Really, they didn’t have to ask me at all—they were the coaches and this was their business. If I didn’t like it, I could hire someone else.

But I didn’t want anyone else. Where could I even go at this point? My old coach in Vancouver would probably take me back, but… I quickly shut down thoughts of returning to that particular arena.

What if I ran into him in the locker room? My stomach lurched. It was bad enough to be dealing with Theodore Sullivan—I didn’t need to think about my humiliation in Vancouver too.

I nodded, and they exhaled in a rush.

“You won’t regret this.” Manon’s grin gleamed.

“But he’s not disciplined.”

They shared another glance before Manon said, “It’s true that Theo is blessed with an abundance of natural talent and perhaps not such a strong work ethic. You’ll be an excellent influence in that regard. And he’ll get under your skin with his ability to toss off quads at the drop of a hat.”

That I could certainly agree with.

“It’s going to be great,” Bill said. “This is the Olympic season, and we’re turning it up to eleven!”

That was one of Bill’s favorite references, from an old movie I’d never seen. I nodded miserably.

Manon frowned. “There’s no issue with Theo we should know about, is there? Aside from beating you sometimes. He hasn’t been unkind, has he?”

I shook my head. Though we’d never been friends, he was unfailingly friendly, which was honestly infuriating because it made it more difficult to resent him. I still managed.

We were rivals, and I’d prefer it greatly if he’d ignore me the way I tried to ignore him. Win or lose, he was the same, smiling and cracking jokes. All the way back to our junior days, I couldn’t recall him ever being upset about anything.

I said, “It’s time for cardio.”

“So it is.” Bill patted his stomach under his worn T-shirt. “I should race you and burn off those Timbits.”

He said that often but never did. I was relieved as I escaped upstairs and laced my running shoes so tightly I had to redo them or risk the blood flow to my toes. I jumped over a pothole in the Ice Chalet’s parking lot as I jogged out.

The arena’s brick had been decorated with mountains in the eighties, and I could still make out the edges of a snowy peak in the corner where it hadn’t been painted over properly.

Cars whizzed by on the road, some turning into the plaza across the street. The Shoppers pharmacy drew most people, though I heard from other skaters the tiny roti restaurant had excellent food. I’d try it if I ever allowed a cheat day.

A few of the storefronts were up for rent, and the wholesale flooring warehouse was going out of business. The grassy field next to the plaza had a big sign saying another subdivision of identical houses was coming.