Page 122 of About to Fall

More than one thing that makes you happy. He was that. He was so much of that it scared me.

“I think I have that now,” I said quietly. “Something that isn’t skating. That’s why I can finally walk away. Not because I'm giving up. Because for the first time in my life, I'm not terrified of what's left when the ice is gone.”

She studied my face. Whatever she saw there made her eyes soften.

“Good,” she said. Then she kissed my forehead and smoothed my hair one last time. “You should get some rest, mon chou. You've had a long day and tomorrow will be longer still.”

My parents went to their bedroom but I could hear my mother's soft cries through the wall and my father's low murmur as he comforted her. Their love had weathered a lot over the years and it was still standing. Quiet and steady and real. The kind I wanted for myself.

The suite eventually fell quiet and I was alone with my thoughts.

I wanted to check in with Adrian but my phone was shut off and stuffed in my backpack. Shortly after I'd arrived at my parents' hotel, Bash had shown up with my things. My phone had started blowing up the moment the withdrawal was announced. Well meaning teammates. Texts from skaters I barely knew. Google alert notifications I should have deleted months ago. I’m sure the forums would already be dissecting it—theories and speculation and anonymous opinions run amok.

I'd powered it off and hadn't touched it since.

It felt shameful. That was the word I kept circling back to. I had everything—the best training, the elite coaching, a family who loved me, a body built for this sport. And I still couldn't handle the pressure. I was supposed to be the heir apparent, the golden prince, the next Canadian gold medallist.

And now I was just… Nico. Lying on a pullout bed in my parents' hotel room. Feeling overwhelmed. And very lost.

I wished I could call Adrian. Hear his voice. That low, steady tone he used when the world was too loud and I needed someone to quiet it. I’m here, Nicky. Breathe. I've got you.

But he needed to sleep. Tomorrow was the free skate—the most important performance of his career. I couldn't show up at his door at 1 a.m. and dump my mess onto him the night before his Olympic qualifier.

I lay there for another twenty minutes, arguing with myself. Losing.

Then I quietly slipped out of the pullout. Found a pen on the desk and wrote a note on the back of a room service menu—Couldn't sleep. I'm with Adrian. Don't worry. Love, Nico—and stuck it to the coffee machine where my mother would see it first thing.

My parents' hotel was a five minute walk from the athletes' village. I made it in three, hood up, head down, praying I wouldn't run into anyone that would recognize me. The night air was cold and sharp and helped clear my head a little.

The athletes' village was quiet at this hour. I took the stairs to avoid running into anyone and stood outside our suite for a full minute, keycard in my hand, arguing with myself about whether I was being too selfish by showing up in the middle of the night.

Then I pressed the card to the lock before I could talk myself out of it.

There was a quiet beep. I eased the door shut behind me, wincing at the click.

The suite was dark. Quiet. Adrian's shoes were by the door—kicked off at angles, because he'd never lined up a pair of shoes in his life. His jacket was draped over the arm of the couch. A half empty bottle of water on the coffee table. I slipped off my own shoes and coat, moving carefully so I wouldn’t wake Bash.

I nudged open the bedroom door as gently as I could.

The bedside lamp clicked on two seconds later.

“Nicky?”

He was sitting up in bed, hair flattened on one side, eyes squinting against the light. Not groggy. Not disoriented. I guessed he couldn’t sleep either.

“Hey,” I said. My voice came out small.

“Hey.” He was already moving, pulling back the covers, making room. “Come here.”

I crossed the room and crawled into bed beside him and he pulled me against his chest before I'd even settled. His arms wrapped around me—tight, secure, and I sank into that feeling.

“I couldn't sleep,” I whispered.

“I know. I've been staring at the door for two hours hoping you'd walk through it.” His lips pressed against my hair. “I almost came to find you but I didn't want to wake Margaux.”

“I left a note for my parents so they might show up here later since I had to turn my phone off. Everyone I've ever met is trying to reach me.”

“They have my number. I've been texting your mom for a few weeks now.”