Page 84 of Hate You Most

Viktoriya gave her a flat look. “I don’t have coach.”

Brooke smirked. “Yeah, I noticed.”

It was true. Viktoriya skated alone now. There was no coach barking corrections from the behind boards or limiting her food and water intake before competitions because it would make her slower. There were no federation officials watching over her every move and every mistake. She wasn't competing for anything or anyone and there was no end goal with her training other than her own enjoyment. There was no medal for her to win, and no rival in her way.

She pushed deeper into the edge of her blade and let her body accelerate down the length of the rink.

The first jump came naturally to her. A double loop, clean and controlled. Her body rose and landed without a moment's hesitation.

Good.

She circled the rink again.

A triple salchow was next. The takeoff was sharp and confident. The landing was slightly messy, her blade scraping too loudly against the ice but she stayed upright.

Brooke whistled from halfway across the ice. “Jesus. If that’s you “recovering” then I’d hate to see you fully healthy.”

Unlike her, Brook had an actual purpose while being on the ice. She was training for a senior competition in Switzerland later in the year. Viktoriya had watched her every morning for the past month and was confident that Brooke would take home gold or silver. She was a good skater.

Viktoriya ignored her, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“I mean it,” Brooke said, clearly unable to let it go. “You should train for something. There are so many competitions happening this year that you could easily win.”

She didn't know how to tell Brooke that she needed an actual challenge before it was even worth competing. Dakota Sanchez had always been her challenge. She'd been the only person that could beat her, and the only person that made skating challenging. It wasn't thrilling if she knew she'd win beforehand.

She continued to ignore her and skated away, but Brooke only followed.

“I mean it, you should train for something. Give yourself a purpose for being here every day.”

Viktoriya turned and looked at her. “Not happening.”

“Come on, why not?”

“Let it go, Brooke,” she said and picked up her speed again.

Jumps and spins. Footwork sequences she hadn’t consciously practiced in years that still lived somewhere deep in her muscles.

Sometimes the other girls would join her between their own drills, or they would chat with her while they stretched at the boards or before unlacing their skates. They talked about competitions, coaches, injuries, and gossip from the skating world. Viktoriya mostly listened.

But slowly, she started talking too.

It surprised her how easy it was. Maybe because none of them expected anything from her. They didn’t treat her like the Russian prodigy who had dominated the international competitions for years. They treated her like a teammate. A friend. And for the first time in a long time, Viktoriya realized she liked the people around her.

She liked Brooke’s loud laugh, she liked how quiet Hannah was, and she liked how Kaylee always brought extra snacks for everyone. She liked the way the group sat together on the benches after practice, legs dangling while they argued about music or movies or which competitions had the worst food. There was only one rule that Viktoriya kept for herself. She did not talk about Dakota. And they seemed to understand that boundary without it being said out loud.

So they left it alone.

The skating was what they all came for anyway. Her failed and fucked up relationship didn’t matter on the ice. Not anymore.

By the time Viktoriya left the rink her legs were shaking from exhaustion. She stepped outside and the cold air stung deep in her lungs, in a way the air inside the rink never could.

She walked with fast steps, a gym bag slung over her shoulder. It was only a few blocks back to the hotel room. She had been staying there since the night she'd asked Dakota for space. The room wasn’t anything special—it had a large bed and neutral furniture and windows that overlooked the city—but it was hers and Dakota wasn't there.

She was free to think and do whatever she wanted.

She got in the shower, left her clothes just outside on the cold blue tile. The scolding hot water and steam washed away the stiffness in her muscles. When she finished, she wrapped herself in one of the hotel’s oversized white robes and sat on the edge of the bed with her laptop.

The internet had become another part of her routine.