Chapter Ten

Henry

Teeth clenched, trying to hide my grimace, I hit my short program final pose. In the hush after the music ended, the sounds of the rink came back to me. The murmur of conversation—Bill correcting Ivan on his spin position, the assistant coaches working with younger students, a few parents on the bleachers watching.

“That’s enough for today,” Manon said. “You need to rest—no arguments.”

My pulse was elevated, and with each rapid breath I took, my ribs ached. I wanted to argue for one more run-through—especially since I’d put a hand down on my triple Axel. My skin prickled with the surreptitious stares around the rink.

Everyone had heard I’d strained the intercostal muscles between my ribs on my left back. Everyone was watching and listening even though they were pretending not to, an unnatural hush descending. Mitigating injury was part of the sport, but this close to the Olympics, it was fodder for gossip even more than usual.

“It’s already much better,” I told Manon. This was true—I’d rested for a whole day, and it was only a strain. I’d gotten twisted up on an awkward landing. I knew my body, and it wasn’t serious. It was annoying.

“Good!” She gave me a smile with steel in her eyes. “And now you’re going to rest. You have an appointment with Dr. Shankar soon anyway. Bye!”

There was no sense in arguing, even though I detested finishing without a completely clean run-through. At the edge of the ice, I bent to slip on my skate guards, careful to keep my face neutral even though my back twinged.

“Hey! That was a great Lutz. How are your ribs feeling?”

Muscles protesting, I straightened to face Theodore. “Perfect.” My ribs weren’t injured.

He raised an eyebrow dubiously. “Yeah? You know, I was thinking of a better way to do the hot-cold therapy.” He bent to take off his guards, tossing them onto the closest bench, one teetering on the edge before falling to the concrete with a dull clatter. “My plan is—”

“Theo!” Manon called, tapping her wrist even though she wore no watch.

If anyone hadn’t been looking at me before, assessing the state of my injury, they were certainly watching Theodore and me now. He gave Manon a wide smile and yelled, “One second!”

After the first week when we’d skated on the same sessions before Manon and Bill had had time to adjust the schedule, Theodore and I didn’t train at the same time. Though I was still driving him most days since he’d been getting up early more often. The rides were naturally the subject of arena gossip, but no one knew about our dinners and cooking. At least not to my knowledge.

But the more we interacted at the rink, the more gossip would spread. I hated the hot prickle of stares and whispers, and I snapped, “It wasn’t a great Lutz. It was acceptable.” And considering he had the best quad Lutz in the world, I didn’t need Theodore’s encouragement.