I squeezed my eyes closed and held back the next choke crawling up my throat, and I felt like I was dying all over again. “Ivan…”

“Don’t ‘Ivan’ me. We’re going to win,” he whispered into my ear. “Don’t give me this bullshit about you being a loser either. I don’t win every time. Nobody does. And yeah, it isn’t fun, but only a quitter says things like that. A quitter gives up and really does make that kind of statement come true. You’re only a loser if you give up. Are you a quitter now? After everything? After all those broken bones and falls, you’re going to quit now?”

I didn’t say anything.

“You giving up, Meatball?” he asked, rocking me back into him.

I said nothing.

“These young girls quit right after they win gold medals because they’re scared of losing after that. You say nobody remembers second place, but no one remembers the girls that win once and disappear afterward either. The girl I know, the Jasmine I know, isn’t scared of shit. She doesn’t give up, and that’s the girl people will always remember. The one who is there time after time. You’d win and keep trying to win afterward. That’s the girl I know. The one I partnered up with. The one I think is the best—and you better not ever ask me to repeat that because I won’t. I don’t know what happened to you earlier, but whatever it was, you need to move past it. You need to remember what you’re capable of. What you are. You make every sacrifice worth it. You make every penny worth it. Do you understand me?”

Understand him?

“Just let me go,” I croaked. “Please.” Please. Please. Out of my mouth. Jesus Christ.

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. “Do you understand me?”

I dipped my chin and kept my mouth closed, my organs burning up and melting.

Ivan’s sigh went over my ear, and he squeezed me in that hug I hadn’t wanted but didn’t want to leave now. “Jasmine, you’re not a loser.” What had to be his chin touched my ear because it prickled. “Not years ago, not last week, not today, not tomorrow. Not ever. Winning isn’t everything.”

The snort out of me burned. It was so easy for him to say that. To think it.

And in that Ivan way, he knew what I was thinking because he said, “Some of the unhappiest times in my life have been after big wins. Your family loves you. All they want is for you to be happy.”

“I know that,” I whispered, hating how weak I sounded, but not able to do anything to change it.

I was miserable. More miserable than even after Paul left. More miserable than maybe after I realized my dad was moving away.

“You and me will give them that. Understand me?”

A sob tried to crawl out of my throat, but I kept it in, and I buried it. Buried it so deep I wasn’t going to risk ruining this chance by replying. Because this was enough. This was too much.

And I was miserable.

“That night I had dinner at your house, the second thing your mom said to me was, I can make things look like an accident,” he murmured, and I froze. “When I was leaving that night, your brother’s husband told me that you’re like his little sister and that he hoped I’d treat you with the same respect I would treat my little sister. And your sister Ruby randomly whispered that her husband was in the army for over ten years. I think she meant it as a threat.

“And both your brother and your sister said that you have experience digging holes to put bodies into,” he finished, his voice still gentle. “They sounded proud of it. Real proud of it, Jasmine.”

I blinked, and then I blinked some more. This… something, just barely replacing the burn going on inside of me. Not much, but it was enough for the weight on my chest to lift just enough for me to feel like maybe I could breathe again sometime soon. Maybe in a year. Maybe in two. Because that was my family.

And Ivan’s next words wrecked some more of that feeling eating me up slowly.

“They understand, Jasmine,” he kept going. “How can you think you haven’t done anything when they care about you so much? They admire you. They were bragging about how tough you are. How resilient you are. There are girls at the rink who light up every single time you walk by. You’ve probably changed their lives and inspired them by showing up here day after day, staying true to yourself, not letting anybody talk you out of anything. Not even me. I don’t know what you consider a loser, but those aren’t the kind of traits that come to my mind when I think of with that word.”

I ducked my head and bit my lip, my words lost, my mind too slow to process everything.

And then he finished me off.

“You and me, Meatball. We’re going to win if that’s what you need. Understand me?”

Chapter 12

“I think we’re done for the day,” Coach Lee called out from her spot a couple feet away from where I’d landed after a throw.

Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to keep from panting after a practice that had made me sweat so much the L and R on my hands had started to fade, I nodded. It was time. I was tired, and I knew Ivan was too. I’d felt how deep into his reserves he’d had to dig to throw me that last time.

Plus, it didn’t help that I’d slept like shit. It also didn’t help that we’d been so busy at the diner that morning that I hadn’t gotten a chance to even take a break. I’d overdone it the night before. Inside and outside, and my body hadn’t forgiven me for not treating it as well as I usually did.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about my choices—about what I wanted to do and needed to do—and… if I was going to be honest with myself, I’d thought more about Ivan’s kindness than I would have ever expected. He’d probably hugged me for ten minutes straight as I’d calmed down and slowly, in tiny bits and pieces, gotten grounded.

He hadn’t asked what upset me. He hadn’t teased me for it. At some point, he had just let me go while I finished drinking my hot cocoa and then taken the cup from me to wash and set beside the sink. Then he’d followed me to the empty changing room, waited for me to grab my things…

And he’d followed me home.

We hadn’t said much to each other, and I wasn’t sure if it was just because he knew I was in my head or if he didn’t know what to think about me losing my shit. Honestly, I wasn’t sure either. The one thing I did know was that if Ivan thought I was going to be embarrassed the next day, he had to have been real fucking surprised when I wasn’t.

I could see it in his face every time he looked at me. Those crystal clear almost sky blue eyes roamed over my face every time we were in front of each other. For one tiny millisecond the first time I caught him watching me, I thought about looking away.

But I didn’t. I refused to.

Because to do that would say I was ashamed that he’d found me like that, that he’d heard and watched me damn near cry, which was almost as bad. And one of the best lessons I’d ever learned figure skating was that when you fell, you got right back up and acted like nothing had happened to begin with. You made things important, or you didn’t. And if you got up and smiled and held your head up high… you still had your dignity.

And I was going to squeeze the shit out of my dignity with both hands.

At least what was left of it.

We were friends. And sometimes friends lost their shit around each other. At least that’s what I figured.

“Take it easy and get some rest, Jasmine,” Coach Lee said as she skated toward me and gave me a serious, lingering look.

I forgot she had been the one Galina had called the night before. I only managed to nod. What else could I say or do?

“See you tomorrow bright and early,” she finished, touching her fingertips to my shoulder for a brief moment before dropping them and skating away.

Planting my hands on my hips, I kept trying to catch my breath as I looked around the ice, taking in the six other people still practicing, taking advantage of the last few minutes before the private ice time was over and it opened up for group lessons. I spotted Galina almost immediately sitting at the same spot she used to sit in when it was me and her, her chin resting on the folded hands she had on the wall. Her gaze was on the teenager going through a sequence of arm movements a few feet away.

“Am I invited to dinner tonight?” Ivan’s question came from behind me.

I blinked and turned to look at him over my shoulder. He had started off practice wearing a dark green fleece pullover, but had stripped it off about an hour ago, leaving him in fitted black sweatpants and a light gray long-sleeved shirt with patches of dark damp material along his chest and abs. Maybe I hadn’t slept well, but from the lack of bags under his eyes, he hadn’t had the same problem. His face was as clear and bright as always.

Lucky shit.

Breathing in through my nose, I pressed my lips together for a moment, and just as I was about to shrug, I nodded instead. I owed him that much. He deserved that much. “If you don’t have anything else to do,” I said, making sure my voice was nice and even.

Ivan nodded. “Not until later.”