Page 113 of Ice Dance

But it was healable, when I stopped.

I had not stopped.

I’d gone harder.

Three days.

I could do this.

Ren was always close by, which both confused and relieved me. I’d thought I’d lose him—I still could. But not yet. He stayed at my apartment at night, on the couch, just showed up and didn’t leave. We didn’t do anything romantic. When we weren’t running the routine, I was either unconscious from exhaustion or in pain. He didn’t say he hated what I was doing, but he didn’t need to. His whole demeanor, what little he gave away, made it clear.

Honestly, I hated the dancing as much as he hated me dancing. I’d expected it, but the pain and physical stress made it so there was no love left for the dance. I endured. It was all I could do.

Three days turned into two, and eventually into one.

And the day of the Meridian Cup competition arrived.

Montreal turned into a sparkling parade for all things ice dance. The day went by in a blur of interviews and last-minute prep. I spent it glued to Ren’s side, needing him close. We didn’t touch, of course. Purely professional. We talked to the press about the routine, the nine months of struggles, and were honest. It had not been easy. The press seemed to appreciate that and had dropped their combative tone. They wanted us to win. Picture after picture, shaking hands with dignitaries who I probably should have known the names of but didn’t.

Then, in the afternoon, the circus got quiet, the chaos faded, and the countdown to the event was on.

Saga texted me.

You got this, mon beau

Thank u babe

I couldn’t tell him over text how my heart was trying to pry open my ribs and get away. How the nerves had their teeth in me. But at least the adrenalin kept most of the pain at bay.

Dylan found us and sat us down in a room away from the main hustle and bustle. She stood, hands on hips, looking at us both, and I’d never seen her so serious. And I saw her serious a lot.

“The pair of you have tested me in ways I did not think possible. And by god, I know it’s not been easy. But we’re here, we’re together, and we are doing this right.”

I glanced at Ren. His mouth ticked at the corner.

“You both have the kind of talent that takes ice-dance partners decades to hone. I am in awe of your achievements, your passion, and your strength. And I have no doubt that what you give on that ice today will be the very best of you. I want you to know I’m so very proud of you.” Her voice wobbled. “Now go win that cup.”

Hasegawa stood, briefly hugged her, said something in her ear that I missed, and then left.

I smiled sheepishly, then got to my feet. She stepped over and pulled me into a hug. “You are brilliant, Cam. Go dazzle them. I know you will.”

I nodded, choking up, then laughed to clear the lump in my throat. “Thank you . . . for putting us together.”

She smiled. “Thank you for not walking away.”

“I mean, I could have . . . a lot.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I know. He’s lucky to have you, and he knows it.”

Costumes and makeup took an age to prepare. In the changing room, with the makeup artist working on my face, I focused on my breathing, kept my head in the routine, going over the steps again and again. Then a knock sounded, and Ren stepped in, head to toe in black speckled with sparkling red, his eye makeup a goddamn statement of artistic flare, glitter accents that would make him shine on the ice.

He looked so gorgeous, I wanted to cry.

“Can you please give us a moment?” he asked the woman finishing up my face makeup.

She left, and for a moment it was just me and him in the quiet of the changing room.

“Are you ready?”