Page 113 of About to Fall

“Tell me five things you can see.”

“I can't—it's dark—”

“Okay. Five things you can hear then.”

I forced myself to focus. “Your breathing.”

“Good. What else?”

“The heater.”

“Keep going.”

“Traffic.” My own voice, shaky and thin. “Your heartbeat.”

“That's four. One more.”

“My breathing.” Still too fast, still ragged, but there.

“Perfect.” He pressed his lips to my temple. “You're doing so good, Nicky. Stay with me.”

The tightness in my chest was loosening. Not gone but manageable. Breathable.

“What happened?” His voice was soft, no judgment in it. Just concern.

“I can't—” The words caught in my throat. “The short program. And we're—you and me—and Théo's here and Evan and Oliver and there's only three spots and—”

“Nicky. Stop.” He said it firmly. Not harsh—grounding. “You and me. That's all that matters. We're going to Milan. Both of us. I don't care who else is in this building. If the selection committee wants Canada to win a gold, they’ll choose us. End of story.”

“You don't know that—”

“I know you. And I know me. And I know that nobody in this sport works harder or wants it more than we do.” His arms tightened around me. “The rest of them can fight over the third spot.”

Something cracked open in my chest and suddenly I was sobbing—ugly, broken sounds I couldn't control. All the fear and pressure and exhaustion I'd been holding back came flooding out. Adrian turned me in his arms, pulled me fully against his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other wrapped around my waist.

“I've got you,” he murmured into my hair. “Let it out. I've got you.”

I cried into his shoulder, my fingers digging into the back of his neck desperately, my whole body shaking with the force of it. And he just held me. Didn't tell me to calm down or that it would be okay or any of the empty platitudes people usually offered. Just held me and let me fall apart.

“I'm so overwhelmed,” I managed between sobs. “I can't stop the panic attacks and I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like I'm going to lose my Olympic spot and let everyone down—the fans, my uncle, the whole country—and I don't know how to do any of this and I love you—”

His entire body went still.

Oh God, what had I just done? It was too soon. We'd only been together since Paris.

“I'm sorry,” I gasped, trying to pull back. “That was—I didn’t mean—”

His arms locked around me, keeping me exactly where I was.

“Don't.” His voice had gone rough. “Don't you dare take that back.”

“Adrian—”

“Look at me.”

I lifted my head, tears still streaming down my face, and found him staring at me with an intensity that made my breath catch for an entirely different reason.

“Say it again,” he said.