How could I not think the world of her? How could I not love her, who raised me to think I was invincible, more than anything? How could she believe she wasn’t a priority to me?

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she insisted, casually. “I’ll be fine. When Ben and I go to Hawaii in a few weeks, I won’t let him take any pictures of my face. That way I have an excuse for us to go again,” she said brightly.

But it didn’t do shit for me.

This was my fault. This was all my fault. She thought and felt the way she did because I had told her a thousand and a half times how figure skating was what had made me feel special. What had given me purpose. What had made me finally feel like there was something I was good at. What gave me life, what made me happy, what made me strong.

But in reality, it was my mom—my whole family—that had given me the foundation for those things. I knew what all those emotions were because of them. Because of her.

I guessed I had just always assumed she knew.

But maybe I had just been too much of a self-centered prick to come to terms with realizing that until now.

My chest hurt even more, and my throat tightened so much I couldn’t swallow as I sat there, taking in the face that I loved with my entire heart. “Mom,” was the one and only thing I could get out.

It was right then that her cell’s ringtone started blaring. She didn’t even say a word to me as she reached for her phone and answered it. “Baby girl,” she said immediately, and I knew it was Ruby.

That was the end of that conversation. It was just how my mom worked. She was done when she was done.

And she expected, and for good reason, that if we’d kept talking about it, I probably would have gone on a rant. Under normal circumstances, at least.

This knot in my throat doubled in size as I stared at her as she talked to my sister with a smile on her face like she hadn’t just finished telling me being in a car accident was no big deal. Then implied that she wasn’t as important to me as she was.

Did I come off that heartless?

Something that felt an awful lot like a tear beaded up in my right eye, but I pressed the tip of a finger against that corner and ignored whether or not there had been some wetness on it, because my throat and my heart ached so bad, they overwhelmed everything else.

I sat there. I sat there and stared at my mom, and wondered what kind of person she really thought I was. I knew she loved me. I knew she wanted me to be happy. I was fully aware she knew all of my strengths and flaws.

But…

Did she think I was a selfish piece of shit?

My appetite disappeared, and so did my exhaustion. Kaput. Bye. Just like that.

“Oh, baby, you shouldn’t be doing that….” My mom trailed off as she shoved her stool backward, gave me a grin that must have hurt her face, and then headed out of the kitchen, to what I could only assume was the living room.

Anger flooded my veins as I sat there with a basically full plate of food below me, the sound of my mom’s low laugh just loud enough for me to hear. She was fine, and that’s what should matter.

But…

My mom really thought figure skating was more important to me than she was.

I loved it. Of course I loved it. I couldn’t breathe without it. I didn’t know who I was without it. I didn’t know who I would be in the future without it.

But I couldn’t breathe without my mom either. And if I’d ever have to choose between both, there wouldn’t have been any competition. Not even a little bit.

It was my fault for being a shitty daughter. A shitty person. For not opening my mouth and telling her the things she needed to hear. More I love yous and less sarcasm. For being so heartbroken over Paul leaving me that I didn’t appreciate enough her and my siblings trying to pull me back into a real life even when I was a moody, angry little bitch.

All they had ever wanted was for me to be happy. For me to win because that’s what I had wanted. Always.

And I hadn’t given them shit. I hadn’t made them proud no matter what. I had nothing to show in exchange.

It was my fault for choking. For overthinking. For being obsessive and a little difficult.

The knot in my body tripled, choking me, suffocating me.

God.

I couldn’t sit here and act like I was fine when I wasn’t. All I’d wanted was to sit at home and relax while eating before I started to wind down, but now… now there was no way I could do that. No fucking way in hell.

I was such an asshole.

God, I was such a fucking asshole, and it was all my fault. If I were a better person, a better athlete, maybe this would all be different. But it wasn’t.

I had to do something.

Sliding back my own stool, I almost headed straight toward the front door, ready to get out, but I paused for a second, wrapped my food in plastic and set it in the fridge.

And then I grabbed my keys, and I was fucking out of there, something that sure tasted like guilt and desperation filling my mouth, making me restless… making me feel like shit.

I didn’t know where I was going.

I didn’t know what the hell I wanted to do.

But I had to do something, because this… shit… inside of me was growing and growing and growing.

My mom was my best friend, and she thought figure skating was more important to me than she was.

Did everyone I love think that way? Was that the impression I’d left on them?

Figure skating made me the happiest, but it wouldn’t mean anywhere near as much to me without my mom and siblings supporting me, giving me shit, caring and loving me even while I was at my worst. When I didn’t deserve it.

My throat and eyes burned as I drove, and my mouth went dry as I kept on driving. Before I knew it, before I let myself do more than have my throat ache and my eyes tighten, I pulled my car into the parking lot of the LC. I didn’t even realize it until I was there.

Of course I’d go back.

It was the only thing I had other than them. And I sure as hell didn’t want to talk to Ruby or Tali or Jojo or Sebastian about any of this. I wasn’t ready to feel worse, and that’s what would more than likely happen if they tried to console me or tell me it was okay.

Because it wasn’t.

I had to make all the sacrifices that had ever been taken for me worth it.

And this was the only way I knew how.

In no time at all, I was out and heading toward the front doors, on a mission to go to the changing room. I’d left my bag at home, but I always left my last pair of skates in my locker as backup. I wasn’t wearing my favorite clothes to train in either, but… I needed this. I needed this thing that had always taken my mind off everything… even if it was the one thing that destroyed my body and made my whole family think they were second best.

The realization that I shouldn’t have left my mom after she’d admitted something so big finally hung in my brain, but… I couldn’t go back. What the hell would I say to her? That I was sorry? That I didn’t mean to make her think she wasn’t important?

The changing room was almost empty by the time I made it inside; there were two girls that were younger than me, but not by much, talking, but I ignored them as I put in my combination and opened my locker. In record time, I’d taken my shoes off, grabbed the extra pair of socks I always left in there, and stuffed my feet into them and my skates, ignoring the fact that I might regret not putting on the bandages I usually wore that protected my skin from the top edge of the boot that was well broken in.

But I needed to burn some energy off. I needed to clear my head. I needed to make this better. Because if I didn’t… I didn’t know what I would do. Probably feel more of a piece of shit than I already did. If that were even possible.

Ignoring the other girls in the room who were looking in my direction in confusion because I was never at the facility this late, I made my way as fast as I could toward the rink. Luckily, there were only about five other people on the ice at eight in the evening. The younger kids were already home and in bed, and the teenagers were heading there.

But I didn’t give a fuck about any of them.