As we left the Kiss and Cry, I looked back at Henry taking his position at center ice, a hush falling over the arena. I could have sat and watched him for a few minutes, but I didn’t want to throw him off or anything.

Obviously he’d heard my marks and the crowd reaction, so the pressure was now on him to hold his lead. It was only a few points, so this was going to be a close result.

And obviously I wanted to win—duh, winning was the most fun—but I weirdly found myself…kind of rooting for him? Not that I’d ever wished harm to a competitor, but… As much as I disliked Mom’s killer instinct bullshit, I didn’t become world champion by rooting for the other guys.

Backstage, “Moonlight Sonata” more distant now, I handed off the toys and went to take my seat with Kuznetzov and Nakamura, who were currently in second and third. But instead of the expected high fives, they watched me approach with tight, weird expressions.

Huh. Were they pissed I’d taken first place? I mean, yeah, obviously they were on one level, but it wasn’t unexpected, and we’d all learned as kids to paint smiles on our faces and hide our real feelings in skating. At least until you were alone.

Bill was saying, “What are you talking about?” to someone.

It all happened in slow motion.

Everyone was watching me—skaters, coaches, federation officials, event coordinators, camera operators. I was used to having eyes on me, especially after a skate like that. New world record score! Yay!

But something was wrong.

I turned to Bill as he gripped my arm. Tears shone in his eyes, and my stomach dropped like a rock, icy dread washing through me.

Bill said, “Theo. There’s bad news.” His voice got hoarse, and he cleared his throat. But I didn’t need him to say it.

Mr. Webber was gone. I knew it. Not in a woo-woo I can feel his cosmic absence from the universe way, but because it was the only thing that made the unbearable weight in the air make sense. Unless it was my family or something—fuck, was it?

I went rigid, croaking, “What?” I was ready to shake it out of Bill, my mom and dad and sisters’ faces wheeling through my mind.

He’d gotten his shit together and said, “I’m afraid Mr. Webber passed away a few hours ago. His children and grandchildren were at his side. It was peaceful.”

For a terrible moment, I was relieved. My family was okay. But Mr. Webber was gone, and even though he hadn’t been my family, he had been actually, even if I paid him to coach me, and we’d had contracts and a business relationship. I’d loved him, and I think he’d loved me.

And he was gone. It wasn’t fair even if he was old, and I’d known deep down the cancer was bad and that he probably wouldn’t make it, but it wasn’t fair.