After the Gold

by Erin McRae

  Brendan stared at her, and finally, finally started to get it. She wasn’t being stubborn. She had no idea what the world looked like — or if it could even continue to exist — after this tour ended in less than twenty-four hours. Of course she was terrified. Who wouldn’t be?

  “You’re not kidding,” he said in wonder and a growing horror. “You really have no idea what happens next.”

  “No I’m not kidding! Why did you ever think I was kidding? Am I ever kidding about anything?”

  She was growing frantic, and Brendan felt like the ground was slipping away underneath his feet. “No! Which is why I’m so puzzled. Did you forget how to do things?”

  “No, Brendan,” Katie said slowly, as if she were speaking to a small child. “I can’t have forgotten how to do it, because I never knew how. We’re being asked to launch a business, by ourselves, by a bunch of people I don’t know or trust or know how to evaluate!”

  Brendan gulped for air as his brain struggled to keep up. “I don’t get how this is any different than what we’ve been doing all along, but if you don’t know how, why haven’t you asked?”

  “Who was I supposed to ask?”

  “Me!”

  Katie shoved away from him. “You don’t know anything more about the real world than I do! It’s not as if you’ve got your life figured out. A shrug and ‘oh yeah I guess I’ll coach’ isn’t a plan!”

  “I’m pretty sure it is, and even if it isn’t, I’m still doing better than you!”

  “Seventeenth,” she hissed.

  Brendan rolled his eyes. Nothing could be less relevant right now. “Newsflash, the only one of us who cares about that is you.”

  “You know what? I don’t need this. These whacked out arguments are why every time you’ve almost got me convinced we should be together, it becomes wildly apparent that we don’t know what we’re doing and are never going to figure it out!” She stormed off down the hallway.

  Brendan willed himself not to reach after her. This wasn’t going to get better. Not tonight and maybe not ever. His hands were shaking slightly, and he pressed his palms against his thighs to stop them. “Where are you going?”

  “To get my head together for our big finale tomorrow! That, I know how to do.”

  Brendan sighed and slouched against the wall. He was a mess. Katie was a mess. And this situation was a disaster.

  Chapter 13

  THE LAST DAY OF THE Tour

  New York, NY

  KATIE WOKE UP WITH the same riot of emotions she’d gone to bed with: She was shaken and disappointed in herself, but profoundly grateful for Brendan giving her space, even if it had ended with them yelling at each other. Again. She couldn’t imagine ever feeling competent enough to deal with the choices that loomed in front of her.

  As she went through her show day routine at the arena — stretching, ice for her knee, small high-protein meals, and more stretching — Brendan was nowhere to be seem. That was fine. He wasn’t required to be there until rehearsal, and she probably needed the alone time.

  Last night had been a disaster, and more than anything she felt ashamed. Her brain was a mess and her body wasn’t much better. Those things could be corrected, but dealing with them seemed as overwhelming as any other decision about her — and Brendan’s — future. Their few weeks of tentative truce and slow, possible drifting back together had ended as she had feared: with another fight.

  They were running out of time in which they could keep doing this, and Katie wasn’t sure they knew how to do anything else. At this rate, once they were done with skating, there would be nothing to keep them together at all.

  When Brendan showed up for their rehearsal slot with barely a second to spare, Katie narrowed her eyes and immediately took her starting position for their solo number. What was the point of scolding him about being on time here on the last day of the tour?

  “Wait, no, hey.” Gently, he touched her wrist, encouraged her to lower her arms.

  “What?” she barked.

  “Do you want to do this?”

  “Fight? No. Rehearse? Yes.” She was tired. So very, very tired. Of the tour, of numbers she hated, of feeling lost and adrift.

  Brendan shook his head. “No. I mean, tonight’s the last hurrah. Do you want to do this program?”

  “I never want to do it. But what’s the alternative?”

  “The one that won us gold in Harbin.”

  Katie stared at him. “Have you magically figured out how to fix it so you’re comfortable with me skating it?” Brendan was a good choreographer, but Katie was long sick of hearing him talk about taking the challenge out of a program she so desperately loved.

  He shook his head. “Nope. But what you do with your body is your business, not mine. How’s your knee?”

  Katie shrugged, though her heart was thudding in her chest with hope, with the possibility of skating their absolute best again. “Same as it’s been.”

  “Okay.” Brendan’s face was excited and so earnest. He wanted to give her this.

  Why is he so wonderful even when we’re such a mess?

  “So do you want to give our big moment one last spin tonight?” he asked.

  Of course I do. “What’s the catch?” she asked. Brendan was up to something.

  He shook his head. “No catch. Last night was awful. Maybe tomorrow will be awful too, I don’t know. But I do know no one should take what we are out here from us ... not even each other.” He reached out and took her hands “So one more time? Whether it’s forever and ever or just in case?”

  Katie nodded. “One more time.”

  THEY RAN THE PROGRAM once in rehearsal to prove to everyone that her knee could take it. It could, and they had skated clean. Now they just had to do it again.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Katie said hours later as they waited in the darkened tunnel for their names to be announced. She couldn’t believe Brendan had talked Leo into letting them do this. Hell, she couldn’t believe Brendan had talked himself into it.

  One more one-more-time. She’d never felt this excited about a non-competitive skate before. If touring could always be like this, she was all in with this being the future of her and Brendan’s careers.

  Beside her, Brendan found her hand and squeezed it.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “I know. I just wanted to be nice or something.”

  “You’re always nice. Except when you’re awful. Like me.”

  Brendan laughed.

  Katie glanced at him sideways. “Thank you for this, by the way.”

  Brendan swung their hands a little. “No thanks necessary. With our meetings next week, the least we can do is take this moment to figure out who we are.” He paused, then pulled her against his side. “I know you don’t know what’s coming,” he said into her hair, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “But something good is going to happen for both of us. I’m sure of it.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She leaned against him, but didn’t trust herself to say anything else. For all the fits and starts and disasters of their relationship, this skate, this moment, this return to their Harbin program against all good sense was the most romantic thing he’d ever done for her. She knew no way to repay him than to give it everything she had. This needed to be their performance of a lifetime.

  The announcer’s voice crackled over the sound system, calling their names.

  Brendan turned his head; Katie could feel his breath on her cheek and then his lips as he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “We’re gonna kill it,” he murmured.

  She hoped he was right. They hadn’t practiced enough, she wasn’t mentally prepared at all, and, worst of all, there weren’t any obvious stakes.

  Except my whole future and this perfect mess with this perfect man.

  The audience buzzed as they took the ice.

  “With me?” Brendan asked.

  Katie smiled at the familiar words. “Always.”

  When they
took their starting positions, which were entirely different from the other program, the sound from the audience changed. It became louder. More insistent. More confused. Happier. The audience knew, and they wanted something they didn’t believe they could have.

  So do I, Katie thought. So do I.

  Her focus narrowed away from the audience and to herself and Brendan. She couldn’t see the people in the stands, but she could feel them. When the music started the whole arena froze.

  Except them.

  Katie tried not to tense up as they approached the side-by-side triple axels. It had been so long since they’d done these, this afternoon’s practice aside. But nerves and doubt would kill you long before your muscles let you down. So she took a deep breath, kept Brendan at the right distance, and let herself trust.

  They landed them perfectly. The crowd erupted into cheers.

  Brendan caught her hand as they went into the sit spin. Their eyes locked; his face was incandescent with joy. Maybe now he could understand all the things she was so afraid to give up.

  As they pulled out of the spin and into some footwork, Katie felt her expression shift from a performance smile to a real one. This, right here, was what they’d spent their lives learning how to do. And they were still perfect.

  Brendan’s body against hers, the ice under their blades, the very air itself felt charged. Katie slid her face against his as they went through the steps they’d first memorized so many months ago in Denver, the movement almost a kiss. The crowd gasped, and maybe it was exhibitionist of Katie but their reaction made it better. For these four and a half minutes the ice was theirs, and no one could look away.

  Splaying his hands wide across her back, Brendan guided Katie into position for the twist lift. She spun three times through the air, and Brendan caught her, but her knee ached oddly when he set her back on the ice. On the next side-by-side jumps, the triple lutzes, it twinged painfully when she landed. It only got worse as the program continued, but Katie had no choice — and no desire — to do anything but go on. She pushed the sinking feeling of something’s really wrong this time to the back of her brain, letting the music, Brendan’s body, and her own fierce desire to carry her through.

  They struck their ending poses with the last dramatic beat of the music. There was a collective moment of indrawn breath, and then the audience roared.

  Brendan pulled her upright into his arms with a crushing hug, kissing her hair.

  Katie panted into his shoulder, clinging in both victory and relief. They’d done it. And it had been so, so good. But she was in pain. A lot of it. She wasn’t sure she could get off the ice while continuing to hide it. She needed to tell Brendan, but she didn’t know how. Speech in the sea of applause and pain and emotion felt beyond her.

  “I love you,” he said.

  She had no doubt he did. He always said that after they nailed an important skate. She’d never been more grateful for it than she was right now.

  “They’re standing,” Brendan said, his voice awed. “It’s a standing ovation. We should do our bows.”

  Finally she made herself say it. She pressed her mouth to his ear. She didn’t want to chance a camera catching it. “My knee really hurts.”

  Brendan froze. “Shit. Shit.” He started to push away from her, to see her face or to check the injury, she didn’t know.

  “Stop it!” she hissed. “Be normal. Help me hide this.”

  “But —”

  “Do you want the solo tour? Keep your fucking hands on me and don’t make it look like you’re carrying all my weight.”

  She spun out of his grasp and kept her weight on her good leg as she curtseyed. They turned and bowed three more times, once to each side of the rink, making sure to acknowledge every bit of their incredible audience. And then Brendan scooped her up into his arms.

  “Time to break the internet,” he whispered.

  Katie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So she did the only thing she could — both.

  BRENDAN DIDN’T MAKE a scene once he’d gotten them off the ice, which was a minor miracle for which Katie was desperately grateful. Now that the shock of whatever had happened out there had passed, the pain was ebbing enough for her to get backstage and to the ice therapy machine.

  “Do you want me to get Dr. Meyer?” Brendan asked as he knelt by her side, wrapping the cuff of the machine into place. Katie could have done it herself under normal circumstances, but her hands were shaking too hard.

  She shook her head. “I want you to figure out what I’m doing in the group finale so it doesn’t look weird when I skip the jumps.” Tears, which she thought she had been done with, sprang to her eyes again. She balled the fabric of her skirt in her hands and bit her lip. She had to change before the final number, and she didn’t have much time.

  “Are you sure you want to go through with that?” Brendan pushed his hair off his forehead and looked up at her, his green eyes kind and his brow furrowed in concern. He deserved better than this, to be stuck at the side of a partner who couldn’t skate.

  “I can be injured tomorrow,” she said firmly. “Or next week. In secret. I cannot be injured tonight. Now help me figure it out.”

  “Okay.” Brendan pressed a hand to her thigh, like he was going to use it to lever himself up, but he stayed there, his elbow resting on one knee, his other knee on the floor, his eyes intent on hers. “Okay. I will.”

  SOMEHOW, KATIE GOT through the rest of the show — and the meet and greet — and back to her room. She had it to herself tonight; Natalya was catching a late flight out of JFK. Which would have been perfect, if Brendan was staying with her. But he wasn’t, at least not for the night. After he made sure she was settled, asked repeatedly if she wanted him to get Dr. Meyer, and offered to get her anything she needed from her suitcase, he finally left with a kiss to her cheek and a worried frown.

  Katie almost asked him to stay. The tour was over, her knee was no longer a problem she could pretend was going to go away, and maybe nothing mattered anymore. But she needed to figure out what to do. She didn’t want Brendan there to fret over her or complicate whatever her decision was.

  In the morning, Katie found herself taking one of Brendan’s main suggestions from the night before and was relieved to find Dr. Meyer still in her hotel room.

  “Katie,” she said in surprise when she pulled the door open at her knock. “Is something wrong?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.” Dr. Meyer stood back to let her in. “What is it?”

  “My knee,” Katie said, twisting her fingers together. “I don’t know what I did to it last night, but it’s way worse. I need to find someone to take a look at it. Now. Like, today. And I need to be discreet about it because we’re about to start negotiating our tour. If you have any favors you can call in ....” She took a deep breath and finished in a rush. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

  She nearly cried in relief when Dr. Meyer steered her into a chair and reached for her cell phone.

  IN LESS TIME THAN KATIE thought would be possible, she was back from the doctor’s office and sitting in her and Brendan’s first meeting of the day. She didn’t know which was worse: having the imaging done on her knee or the meeting. She didn’t have much to say, which was only partially because she was waiting for a phone call to give her the results of the imaging, worrying about the surgery she might need, when she could possibly get it done if she did need it, and when she was going to tell anyone about it.

  Katie had spent lots of time in meetings before, but they had been about things she understood: Jumps. Lifts. Spins. Music. Costumes. Arcane ISU politics. Even sponsorships. All things about which she had deep knowledge and strong opinions.

  But now she was overwhelmed by all of the people they were meeting and all of the information they carried. Everyone had job descriptions that didn’t seem to involve actually doing anything. And sure, she knew ghostwriters were a thing, but writing a book she wasn’t going to actually w
rite? About exercise tips or self-esteem or achieving your dreams? Not her speed. At all. The type of success she and Brendan had found wasn’t about smiling and believing in yourself, it was about blood and bone and a brutal ruthlessness. Who would let her write a book about how to come from nothing and sell your soul? No one, she was pretty sure.

  This wasn’t her world. Brendan could nod along and ask all the right questions and pretend he was comfortable in fancy offices, but this wasn’t his world either; his world was at the gym and on the ice. Here, he was faking it all the way and everyone could tell. Somehow watching him left her more exhausted than her own feeling of being wildly out of place. She wasn’t used to not being an expert on her own career. She wasn’t used to her background showing. She wasn’t used to talking about her body instead of talking with it.

  Her knee made everything more complicated. By discussing a tour without being honest about her health, Katie knew she was negotiating, if not in bad faith, at least not totally openly. Her conscience was soothed somewhat when she started to realize how long a tour would take to organize. Would she be able to comfortably address her knee issues in the interim created by logistics? Very possibly. But she knew she was considering any number of highly calculated risks. She didn’t only need a doctor, she probably needed a lawyer too.

  As for the rest of the work being discussed, Katie could hardly consider it work. In the past, sponsors had paid for them to train and compete in exchange for her and Brendan wearing the right logos and filming an ad now and then. Now, companies would be paying them to smile and sell and pretend that the right hair care products had made their defunct skating careers possible. Katie knew it was the norm for retired athletes, but that didn’t make the prospect less repulsive.

  You okay? Brendan scribbled on the corner of his notepad.

  Katie gave a minute shake of her head. Of course she wasn’t okay. Her knee hurt. She was waiting for the doctor to call her back with his verdict on the imaging. That news wasn’t going to be good so much as a matter of how bad. She hadn’t told Brendan where she’d been early that morning and needed to figure out how. Her body was falling apart, and she was going from being a world-class athlete to being a doll.