Page 70 of About to Fall

“I haven't seen you in a while.” He squinted at me, that older brother radar kicking in despite his exhaustion. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, fine. Just training a lot. Little competition called the Olympics is coming up.”

“I think I've heard of it.”

“Seriously, the schedule is insane. Renaud has me on the ice four hours a day plus conditioning and PT. My body is basically held together by kinesio tape and spite at this point.”

“They're treating you well though? The other skaters stopped hating you?”

I couldn't bring myself to tell Cam about Nicky. I didn't want another lecture about being careful around my coach's nephew. Yes, we had hooked up. Once. Weeks ago. And I had thought about it constantly. Jerked off to it nightly. Replayed every sound he'd made until the memory was worn smooth from use.

But obviously I had Olympic levels of restraint. We were just training partners now. Competitors who happened to grab coffee together. Two guys who stretched on the same mats and talked about their trauma like it was normal.

“Uhm, yeah, things are good. Just, you know, putting my head down and grinding.”

He studied me for a moment longer, then nodded. Letting it go—for now.

“Alright. But you know where to find me if that changes.”

“In a studio somewhere, covered in coffee stains and wallowing in your angst?”

“Exactly.” He stood, handing back my empty mug. “I’m going to hit the shower and pass out for the rest of the day. Don’t run yourself ragged.”

“Yes, mom.”

He flipped me off on his way inside.

The door slid shut and I was alone again with the city lightening below me and the cold air and the particular silence of early morning Toronto.

I thought about Nicky's voice saying I just wanted to sleep and the way he'd leaned into my shoulder afterward like he was too tired to hold himself up anymore. The way his whole body had relaxed against mine.

I thought about how I wanted to be someone he could trust. Someone who was his safe place. Someone he could lean on.

The problem was I was about as stable as a tower of Jenga blocks. I had my own pile of issues—mommy, daddy, and otherwise. No real relationship experience. A lifelong habit of making impulsive choices.

But I was going to try anyway.

No one ever accused me of making smart decisions.

◆◆◆

We sat side by side on the flight to Paris. Nicky, being the giver he was, took the middle seat with Sabrina on the aisle and me at the window. Renaud was up in first class while we slummed it in economy. I could have sprung for an upgrade—for all three of us—but I'd rather be squeezed between Nicky and a window than sitting in a leather recliner making small talk with Renaud. And I doubted either of them would have accepted an upgrade anyway, no matter how many zeros were in my father’s bank account.

Plus, I didn't mind the way Nicky's leg pressed against mine in the confined space. The warmth of him through two layers of fabric. The way he didn't move away.

Sabrina had on giant noise cancelling headphones and was reading on her Kindle, completely oblivious to us.

I was making him watch Avatar: The Last Airbender. The original animated series, because I had standards. I’d gotten him hooked a week ago during a post training stretch session when I’d made an Iroh reference and he’d stared at me blankly. The cultural education had begun immediately.

We were sharing a pair of earbuds—his left ear, my right—huddled over my iPad like teenagers. On screen, Zuko was in the middle of his redemption arc, struggling with his identity while his uncle tried to guide him toward something better.

“He reminds me of you,” I murmured, low enough that Sabrina wouldn’t hear.

Nicky’s eyes flicked to me. “Zuko?”

“Angry prince who has issues with male authority figures. Trying to figure out who he is outside of everyone’s expectations.”

“I’m not angry.”