Page 83 of Hate You Most

She had grown exhausted from swallowing her thoughts and pretending everything was fine. The truth had been clawing at her for too long, and Dakota deserved to hear it. “I love you, Dakota,” she said. “I love you and I fucking hate myself for it. I hate that I can't allow myself to love you the way you deserve.”

Her eyes glistened. “I love you too.”

“But I can't do this anymore. It’s too much. I need some space, away from this. I need to figure out who I can trust, because right now that's not you.”

Dakota's expression softened slightly.

“I’m not going to fight you on this,” she said. “If you need space, then you need space.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “But for what it’s worth… I never lied about loving you.”

For most of her life, the people around Viktoriya had described her in exactly the same way: she was disciplined, impossible to get close to, and rarely showed her emotions openly. Even when Viktoriya loved someone, she kept that truth hidden and locked away where it couldn’t betray her.

That was especially true when it came to Dakota.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

January 4th, 2023.

— Bloomfield Hills training center, Detroit, Michigan.

The more Viktoriya slipped back into her routines and habits, the more she felt like her old self. She felt like she did at eighteen.

Skating had become routine again. She liked routines, they were predictable. After everything that had happened in the last few months—the accident, arguments, her memories returning like fragments of broken glass—routine was the closest thing to peace she could find.

She arrived every morning just after eight.

The rink wasn’t empty the same way it had been the first time Dakota had brought her there. The room buzzed with a quiet activity that she'd missed. Blades scratched across the ice as coaches called instructions from behind the boards. Music echoed faintly from the overhead speakers and blended into the background.

Viktoriya laced her skates alone at the benches.

She had gotten used to the small ritual of it again. Tightening her laces carefully, testing the stiffness of the boot and tapping the hard guards against the floor before pulling them off and stepping onto the ice. Her hands moved with confidence. A few weeks ago she had needed to remind herself of every step, but now it was ingrained in her mind again.

Her body remembered more. Stepping onto the ice was more like returning home than anything else.

“Morning, Volkova.”

Viktoriya glanced up. Brooke slid to a stop beside her, ice spraying lightly across the surface. She was in a white skirt and pink top that contrasted her dark and brown eyes.

“You’re early again,” she added.

Viktoriya shrugged. “I am, yes.”

Brooke laughed. “You’ve been coming early every day for over a month.”

Viktoriya pushed herself into a slow glide, warming up along the boards. “I like skating more than sleeping.”

“That I believe.”

Brooke pushed off beside her, matching her pace easily. Around them, a couple of girls from the American team filtered onto the ice. They stretched and ran through simple footwork drills.

At first, Viktoriya had expected the atmosphere to feel tense.

After all, years ago these girls had been her competition. Some of them had lost medals because of her. They had all skated for America and had trained beside Dakota, when Viktoriya had been skating under the Russian federation. But none of the girls ever treated her like an enemy or an outsider. If anything, they seemed curious. Friendly and almost a little too willing to include her.

“You’re doing triples again today?” Brooke asked.

Viktoriya nodded. “I think so.”

“Your coach cleared you for that?”