Page 119 of About to Fall

I walked out before he could respond.

◆◆◆

I found Nicky’s parents in the stands. They were easy to spot—Dominic in his quiet, measured way, already scanning the tunnel entrances with the alertness of a father who sensed something was wrong. Geneviève had Margaux on her lap, the little girl clutching a bouquet of yellow roses that was almost as big as she was.

“Adrian.” Geneviève's face tightened the moment she saw me without Nicky. “Where is he?”

“He's okay,” I said quickly. “He's with Kat. He's safe. He just—” I chose my words carefully, aware of Margaux's wide eyes fixed on my face. “He needs a little time. The skate took a lot out of him and he's resting.”

Geneviève's composure held but only just. “What happened? We saw him leave the ice and then nothing—”

“He's withdrawing from the competition.”

Geneviève's hand went to her mouth. Dominic went very still beside her.

“It was his decision,” I said. “He made the right call. But it means the press is going to be all over this within the hour and they'll be swarming the hotel. He can't go back there tonight.”

“He'll come stay with us,” Geneviève said immediately.

“That's what I was thinking. Kat's with him now. If you head back to your hotel, she can bring him to you there. It'll be quieter. No cameras. He just needs—” I exhaled. “He needs his family right now. Not the circus.”

“Should we go to him?” she asked. Her voice was steady but her hands were gripping her purse strap so tightly her knuckles had gone white. I recognized the fear underneath the composure—the particular terror of a mother who had already found her son on a bathroom floor once and lived every day bracing for the phone call that said it had happened again.

“I think meeting at your hotel is better,” I said gently. “Less chance of running into press in the corridors here. I'll have his things sent over and Kat will text you when they're on their way.”

Dominic nodded. One hand on Geneviève's back, steady, grounding. “We'll be ready.”

I crouched down so I was eye level with Margaux. “Hey, kid. Those are beautiful flowers.”

“They're for Nico,” she said solemnly. “Yellow means friendship and happiness. I picked them myself.”

“He's going to love them. How about I bring them to him right now so he can see how beautiful they are?”

She considered this for a moment. “You promise he'll get them?”

“I promise.”

She handed them over carefully. “Tell Nico I love him.”

“I will.”

Geneviève's eyes were glistening when I stood up. She reached out and squeezed my arm—firm, maternal, the same warmth she'd shown me at Christmas.

“Thank you, Adrian,” she said. “For taking care of him.”

“Always.”

Dominic shook my hand. Squeezed it and held on for a beat.

I watched them walk toward the exit—Geneviève's arm around Margaux, Dominic's hand on his wife's back, a family rearranging itself around the shape of whatever was coming next. Then I turned and walked back through the arena holding a bouquet of yellow roses, still in my feathered costume, getting stares from officials and athletes and volunteers who probably thought I'd lost my mind.

Let them stare.

◆◆◆

First place after the short program.

I should have been elated. Should have been celebrating with Bash, texting Cam, relishing the fact that I was sitting at the top of the leaderboard heading into the most important free skate of my career. One clean program tomorrow and I’d be on the Olympic team.