Page 101 of About to Fall

But I'd promised him I could be patient. And pushing past a boundary he'd just set would make me no different from every other person in his life who decided what he needed without asking.

“Sure,” I said. “Get some rest.”

He nodded. Turned. Walked out. Didn't touch me on the way past—not a hand on my arm, not a brush of fingers, nothing. Like the last few weeks meant nothing.

I watched him leave from the terrace—watched him cross the parking lot, watched him reach his car and stop. He gripped the roof with both hands and bowed his head and stayed like that for a long time. Long enough that I almost went down there.

He didn't text me that night.

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He'd set the boundary. He'd drawn the line. He'd said not everything is your business and walked out without touching me. So as much as it was killing me—and it was killing me, slowly, one silent hour at a time—I wasn't going to be the one to break first.

Not out of pride. Out of respect. If Nicky needed space, I'd give him space. If he needed to process whatever Renaud had put in his head without me hovering, fine. I could do that. I was an adult. I had hobbies. I had friends.

We didn’t speak for two days.

I picked up my phone approximately a hundred times that first night. Opened our text thread. Started typing.

Are you ok

Deleted.

I’m sorry if I

Fuck that. I didn’t do anything wrong.

I miss you

My thumb hovered over send. Then I locked the screen and put the phone face down on the nightstand. Then I opened the drawer and shoved the phone inside so I wouldn’t be tempted to check it every thirty seconds.

It was the longest two days of my life, which was how I knew I was completely, irreversibly fucked.

Two days of arriving at the rink and ignoring each other. Two days of drilling jumps on opposite ends of the ice and leaving separately. Two days of my phone sitting dark on the nightstand.

On the morning of the third day, I found an iced oat milk caramel latte with extra caramel drizzle on my bench.

I looked across the rink. Nicky was already in his warm up, back to me, but there was the slightest tension in his shoulders.

I picked up the coffee and drank it.

His shoulders dropped.

After practice, the text I’d been waiting for was on my screen.

Nicky: I’m sorry about the other day. Can you come over tonight? We need to talk.

We need to talk is either very good or very bad.

Nicky: It’s not bad. I promise. I just want to see you.

I’ll bring dinner.

Nicky: You don’t cook.

I said I’d bring it. Didn’t say I’d make it.

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