Kiss and Cry
About Kiss and Cry
Will figure skating enemies become lovers?
Henry
Everything comes easily for Theo Sullivan, whether it’s jumps or figure skating world titles. Everyone loves him—judges, fans, coaches.
I hate him.
Now he’s invaded my training center, and I have to see him every day as we prepare for the Olympics. I’m going to win gold if it’s the last thing I do. I’m going to beat him.
But the strangest thing is happening. I’m peeking under his happy-go-lucky exterior and discovering there’s more to Theo than I imagined.
This is a mistake. I can’t trust him.
I can’t be falling in love.
Theo
My mom’s convinced training with Henry Sakaguchi will distract me heading into the Olympics. No way—Henry’s epically boring and cold. He might as well be carved from ice.
But when I need help, he’s there. He tries to keep me at arm’s length, but it’s no use. He’s too kind. Too generous. He’s caring and gorgeous and hot, and I’ve never wanted anyone like this.
I might want Henry more than a gold medal.
Am I falling in love?
Kiss and Cry by Keira Andrews is a steamy gay sports romance featuring grumpy/sunshine opposites attracting, secretly soft-hearted boys, hurt/comfort, and of course a happy ending.
Kiss and Cry
KEIRA ANDREWS
Kiss and Cry
Written and published by Keira Andrews
Cover by Dar Albert
Formatting by BB eBooks
Copyright © 2022 by Keira Andrews
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-1-988260-67-9
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. No persons, living or dead, were harmed by the writing of this book. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
About the Book
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
About Only One Bed
About Cold War
Author’s Note
Also by Keira Andrews
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Leta Blake, Anara, Mary, and Rai for their cheerleading and help in making this book its best.
Special thanks to Elizabeth for her insights on growing up Japanese Canadian.
I’ve been a skating fan for decades, and it’s always a joy to write about the sport. Any similarities to real skaters and coaches is entirely unintentional and coincidental.
Chapter One
Henry
That saying about the exception proving the rule was true. As a rule, I didn’t hate my competitors. Like most athletes, I hated losing, especially when my performance should have been better. But sometimes, I admired my rivals. Sometimes, I was jealous of them. Sometimes, I would have liked to be friends if I had time for friendship.
Not Theodore Sullivan.
I hated him. Loathed. Despised. Detested. Abhorred. I could have gone on—I had an excellent vocabulary. When I was a child, people said it was ironic I loved words since I spoke so little. (I’d quickly given up trying to correct the rampant misuse of the word “ironic.”) What they didn’t understand was that the less you spoke, the safer you were from saying the wrong thing.
Manon was still talking, and I tried to focus through the red haze of resentment. I must not have heard her correctly over the rush of blood in my ears.
I blurted, “Pardon?”
Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the love seat in the corner of their office, Manon and Bill shared a glance. Even for married people, my coaches had impressive silent communication. I didn’t always know what they were thinking, but I recognized the wary expression that meant: Henry isn’t going to like this.
The knot in my stomach tightened. I sat frozen on the mismatched couch across from them, my socked feet gripping the shaggy throw rug I liked to use for strengthening toe scrunches. My throat had gone dry, but I couldn’t even move enough to grab my water bottle off the ring-stained coffee table between us. The lack of coasters had always baffled me, but the wood was too far gone now anyway.
“Theo wants to join our training center.” In Manon’s Quebecois accent, the name sounded like “Teo,” and for a moment I let myself dream that perhaps she was talking about another figure skater. Any other skater.
But it could only be Theodore Sullivan, especially judging by the little grimace creasing Manon’s face. She seemed to be waiting for me to react badly.
She said, “We know it’s last minute and probably a bit of a shock, and of course we’re having this sit-down with you before we give him an answer.”
“Sit-downs” always happened in this corner of the cramped office in the arena basement. Manon sounded calm and measured, her hands clasped loosely in her lap. Her nails were glossy with a deep purple polish that matched the big hoops in her ears.
She had dark brown skin and kept her afro short, and she must have owned hundreds of pairs of earrings. Even in her usual black leggings and hoodie, she looked far too glamorous for the saggy leather love seat and ugly red rug.
And too glamorous for Bill, if I were being honest, but they worked somehow. His blond hair was almost gray and in need of a cut. While Manon made workout gear look elegant, Bill reminded me of my dad puttering in the garage on weekends. He’d gotten too much sun; his nose was burned a distracting red. He really needed to use sunscreen.
Bill smiled in the encouraging way he did when I was about to try my shaky quad Lutz. “It could be the best thing for you to train with one of your biggest competitors.”
Incorrect. The best thing for me was Theodore Sullivan on the other side of the continent. “But he trains in California. It’s too late for such a big change.”
“Making this move at the end of September isn’t ideal,” Bill said, holding his meaty hands out wide. “But we have more than four months until the Olympics.”
“A hundred and twenty-nine days,” I said automatically. “He can’t change coaches now.”
I swiped at my bangs impatiently. My hair was sweaty from my morning jump drills, and it flopped into my face. When I styled it, my bangs made a neat swoop, but I was due for a cut.
I was fortunate to have thick hair, and my grandma still mentioned how naturally black it was. Obaachan grew up in Japan and had always dyed her brown hair jet black.
“We wouldn’t even consider taking on Theo if we thought this would harm your training. It’s going to fuel you.” Manon’s brown eyes lit up as she leaned forward. “This is the final key in your Olympic preparation. It won’t be easy, but this will make you stronger.”
“You know how many recent world and Olympic champions trained with their fiercest rivals,” Bill said. “Look at the Russians. That daily motivation and competition is powerful stuff. I wish like hell I’d had it back in my day.”
Bill had once been Canadian men’s champion, although he’d be the first to admit he only won that year because the favorites messed up. Still, he’d gone to Worlds a few times and had made an Olympic team. He’d become known as one of the best jump technicians in coaching, second perhaps only to the legendary Walter Webber, who’d been his coach.
“I have competition here. Ivan is almost landing his quad Sal. He’s a national champion.”
Manon raised a narrow eyebrow. “You know as well as we do that Ivan represents Ukraine because he’s not strong enough to make the Russian team. We’re very proud of how far he’s come, but he’s not a medal contender.”
“If Julien was old enough to compete as a senior, he could be.” My heart thumped. This wasn’t part of the plan. Theodore Sullivan coming to Toronto to train was not the plan.
Bill said, “True, but he’s not, and Theo is currently ranked number one in the world.”
I was very, very aware of that fact. “But you’re my coaches.” I cringed at my plaintive tone. I was an adult. I shouldn’t have an emotional reaction to this news. Skating and coaching were a business.
Their faces softened, and Manon reached across the ring-stained table to briefly squeeze my hand. “We are. And we’re committed to helping you be your very best. You know we love you, Henry.”
The saggy love seat springs creaked as I squirmed, dropping my gaze and nodding. Manon spoke so openly about love and feelings, but it made me want to be anywhere else. Not that I didn’t appreciate it and reciprocate her affection, but did it really have to be said aloud?
“He’s been taking from Mr. Webber for a long time.” I thought back and calculated. “Four years. He won Worlds in March. There’s no reason to switch coaches.”
You didn’t change the formula when you were winning, and I could bitterly confirm that Theodore Sullivan had been undefeated the past two seasons.
They shared another look, this one serious and sad. Bill blew out a long breath. For a terrible moment, his perpetually chapped lips quivered, and I thought he might cry. “This isn’t public knowledge yet, but Mr. Webber’s been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He needs to start aggressive treatment immediately.”
My heart sank. “Oh.”
Even though Bill was in his late forties, he still called his old coach “Mr. Webber” like he had as a pupil and as most everyone in the skating world did. Many coaches were known by their first names, but Mr. Webber was a legend. He was almost eighty now and had always seemed indestructible.
When I was younger, I’d dreamed of being coached by him, but when I had to leave Vancouver three years ago, Theodore Sullivan was Mr. Webber’s star pupil. I hadn’t even considered training with my archrival. Having to see him and his careless smile and natural jumping ability daily? No.
“You can imagine how upset Theo is.” Manon shook her head. “It’s a shock for everyone. Mr. Webber sounds in good spirits, though. He’s going to fight this.”
“You talked to him?”
Bill nodded. “He called us yesterday to ask personally if we’d take on Theo.”
My heart sank all the way down through the ugly shag rug. How could I say no?
Manon seemed to read my mind. “We realize we’re putting you in a tough spot. But we truly believe this is the extra training push you need.”
“I’m going to beat him.”
I’d imagined seeing my name in first place over Theodore Sullivan for years. Gold: Henry Sakaguchi, Canada. Silver: Theodore Sullivan, USA. Or sometimes he didn’t even make the podium. I imagined wiping that infuriating smirk off his perfectly symmetrical face.
Manon grinned. “That’s the confidence we love to see. Our job is to train you both to be your best, and then it’s up to the judges. It’s a win-win if you two can push each other to new heights.”
I wanted very badly to argue, but they were right. I’d been the top skater at the Ice Chalet the three years I’d trained here. I knew I couldn’t be childish about the idea of my coaches helping the competition. It was the norm in skating these days.
“What’s the verdict?” Bill asked. “Of course we understand if you want to sleep on it.”
It was selfish to deny Manon and Bill the prestige and potential income that would accompany coaching another world champion. Even if it plagued me that while we were tied at two titles apiece, he’d beaten me the last two years running. He had the momentum and was the favorite going into these Olympics.
It was selfish to deny them even if I hated Theodore Sullivan.
I thought of Mr. Webber being sick, and my skin prickled with a hot rush of guilt. Manon and Bill waited for me to respond, though Bill’s foot tapped on the rug, jiggling his knee.
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.