Theodore sighed. “Yep, I guess so. Okay, see you later. May the best man win, right?”

Not responding, I turned on the soundtrack to the Hunchback of Notre Dame, which I listened to before every competitive performance. I had to start my pre-skate routine. I shouldn’t have gotten distracted.

Theodore was saying something else, but I couldn’t hear him. I sat back down, closing my eyes and beginning my visualization of my program.

It was one thing not to hate Theodore Sullivan. But I still wanted to win.

Chapter Eight

Theo

The crowd cheered, clapping along with the Rolling Stones as I gave it my all through the footwork. My quads burned with lactic acid, my lungs strained, but I gave the audience all the face I could, smiling and winking and feeding off their energy.

I’d pulled it off. It was good enough at least for silver. I’d tensed going into the Sal today, but I’d muscled it out and managed to let go and just feel the music and the crowd.

I swiveled my hips into my final pose, and they were on their feet. It was always a great feeling, and I finally let myself think about Mr. Webber while I took my bows with a grin.

Hopefully I’d made him proud.

I helped the flower girls pick up some stuffed toys, waving to the crowd as I made my way to the Kiss and Cry. From the corner of my eye, Henry shot out onto the ice through another door in the boards. Manon was there watching as he did a few warm-up laps while I got my scores. Coaches with multiple skaters at events typically split up so no skater or team was alone at any time.

Bill waited for me by the gate, applauding with the US federation rep beaming beside him. I hugged them and soaked up the praise, putting on my skate guards and team jacket before we sat with the cameras ready to catch every reaction.

We watched the replays, which finished with a slo-mo hip swivel. I joked, “Sexy!” and the audience read my lips and laughed, cheering even harder as the judges tabulated.

The stronger the crowd reaction, the higher marks tended to be, and yep—a new world record flashed up on the scoreboard. I pumped my fist, and the crowd thundered.

Wiping sweat from my face, I chugged water before gathering my plushies. There would be a huge bag of them backstage collected from the ice. I always donated the toys to the local children’s hospital.

Early in my career, Mom had insisted on keeping every toy and gift, filling the corners of our house until my sisters revolted, and even Dad put his foot down.

I truly appreciated every gift from fans, but there were only so many stuffed animals one person could own. Aside from keeping the odd one, I figured they’d live their best plushy lives being played with by kids.