Sadness that dwarfed every other sadness I had ever experienced in my life filled my entire body, but mostly the upper half of it.

“I stopped inviting you after you made me feel bad for asking you for money. I remember. You stopped going to any of my competitions before I was even nineteen. I remember you told me at the last one you went to, ‘Maybe you should focus on school, no?’ Do you remember telling me that right after I’d won first place? Because I do,” I reminded him, facing forward again to watch Ivan go into a shotgun spin that was half the speed he usually went at. The sadness in me grew stronger, thicker, and maybe in some way turned into resignation. Resignation that things had turned out this way and there was nothing I could do about it.

My dad said nothing.

“Do you know why I started figure skating?”

There was a pause and then, “It was a birthday party. Your mom made you go and you were mad because you didn’t want to.”

I blinked because that was exactly what had happened. I hardly knew the girl having the party, but she’d been a daughter of my mom’s friend. It wasn’t until she’d told me it was at a rink like in The Mighty Ducks, that I had agreed to go, still bitching the entire time.

At least until I’d gotten out on that ice and my body had just known what to do. “Like a duck in water,” my mom had called from the sidelines.

“That’s part of it, but not what I was asking,” I said, my voice sounding as tired as I felt. Drained, just so damned drained. “I started because I loved it. From the first moment I got on the ice, it felt right. And once I didn’t need to hold the walls anymore, it made me feel… free. It made me feel special. Everyone else that day could barely get around, but I picked up on it like this,” I explained, snapping my fingers. “And the better I got, the more I loved it. Nothing had ever made me happier than figure skating. I felt like I belonged. Do you understand that?”

“Yes… but you could have played any sport.”

“But I didn’t want to. Mom had tried to get me into swimming, gymnastics, soccer, karate, but all I ever wanted was this. It’s the only thing I’m good at, and you don’t see that or get it. I work so hard. I bust my ass every day for this. I have to do something a thousand times to do it decently, not even well. I’m not a quitter. I’ve never been a quitter, and I’m never going to be a quitter. But you don’t see that. You don’t get it.”

The man beside me let out an exasperated sigh as he tore his hand off mine and went to palm his forehead. “I’ve only wanted the best for my children, Jasmine. You included.”

“I know that. But all I want is for you to be supportive of me. Not everyone can do what I do, Dad! It’s hard. It’s so hard—”

“I never said it wasn’t hard.”

I made my hand into a fist before shaking it out. Patience. Be better. “Yeah, but you basically say you aren’t proud of me—”

“I never said that!”

“You don’t have to say it when all you do is tell me all the different things I can do to be… better. To be more successful. I know I haven’t lived up to my potential, I don’t forget that, ever. Not for a minute. I put enough pressure on myself every day. Do you know how hard it is for me to know that you think I’m a disappointment too?”

Dad cursed and shook his head. “I don’t think you’re a disappointment!”

“Yeah, but you don’t think I’m good enough. You don’t think I’m enough. You don’t want to spend time with me. You don’t want to go to my competitions. I don’t call you, but you don’t call me either! All you ever do is tell me everything I can do different. Like if I don’t go to college, that’s it. I’m a failure. I’m not sorry, Dad. I’m not sorry I love this. But I am sorry I haven’t been more successful. Maybe you’d be more proud of me if I’d won something big. Maybe then you would understand why I love this so much and then you’d be okay with it.”

My dad cursed again, this time both of his hands going up to his face to scrub them.

But he didn’t deny that he’d be more proud of me if I’d won more. That maybe then he would be fine with it. That he would drop the college thing.

My head began to throb almost instantly, and I got up, knowing this was done and there was nothing else left to say. I didn’t look at him exactly, but stood so that my side was to where he was sitting, my attention forward on one of the walls that had LUKOV COMPLEX painted on it. “I love you, Dad, but I can’t change who I am and what I want out of my life. Yeah, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do when I can’t compete anymore, but I’ll figure it out. I’m not going to give up what I love just because I might not have it forever,” I told him, sad and disappointed but a little relieved too.

By that point, my dad had his hands on his head and was taking turns sighing and mumbling under his breath.

I wanted to touch him, to tell him it was fine, but I couldn’t. Not then.

“Have a safe trip back to California, and tell Anise and the kids I said hello,” I told him, fisting my hand at my side.

He didn’t look up, and I wasn’t completely surprised. My mom had always said I got my ego from him. I didn’t know him well enough to be sure. And that’s just the way things were.

Feeling just a little sick, I made my way back toward the ice, debating whether or not to tell my mom about Dad showing up and trying to talk to me.

More than halfway around the wall, I heard the sound of blades on the ice get louder and then the sharp sound of them coming to a stop. There was only one person who sounded like that. So, I wasn’t surprised when I heard, “Boo.”

I turned around with just enough time to see something come flying at me. I caught the shiny thing instinctively and opened my palm to find a Hershey’s kiss. I didn’t look at Ivan as I undid the wrapper, stuck it in my mouth, and muttered, “Thank you.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied before going, “Want to get something to eat before ballet? I’ll treat your broke ass.”

I couldn’t help the smirk I shot him even as I thought about how much better I would have wished the conversation with my dad would have gone, but I did control the nod I gave him afterward.

“Let’s get this done, and then we can go.”

“Okay.”

He nodded, those blue eyes on me, and said, “Okay.”

I was going to be all right.

I would.

But I had no idea how wrong I would be.

Getting back out on the ice, I couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling in my stomach that my dad gave me. Maybe if I won something this season, he would change his mind.

But if he couldn’t, what was I going to do? Beg him to accept me? Fuck that.

“Let’s go over that one part with the side-by-side triple-triple combo,” Coach Lee called out as I met up with Ivan in front of her.

He smacked the back of his hand against my leg, and I smacked him right back.

I didn’t need my dad to love me, I told myself. I didn’t. I never had. I was going to do what I’d always wanted to do—for me. For my mom. For Sebastian, Tali, Jojo, and Rubes. I would.

“You sure you’re good?” Ivan asked as we got into position.

I nodded at him, thinking about how I was going to do well for Ivan too.

“Positive?” he asked.

I nodded again. Everything was going to be fine… and if it wasn’t, I would make the best out of it. I would know I had given it my all and some people just weren’t meant for some things.

Ivan didn’t look like he believed me exactly, but he nodded back. I didn’t think about the combo we were going to do—two jumps with three revolutions each, back to back.

I was going to be fine. I wouldn’t let myself be any less, especially not when the season was just about to start.

The music started a few beats before we were supposed to go into the jump. I could do this. Everything would be fine.

Ivan and I were going to do great. Be fine. Be awesome.

We started off in the same place in the music, a few seconds before the two jumps, with just enough time to gain the momentum to go into them.

The first triple toe loop went as well as it could have. The balance was right, the speed was right, and out of my peripheral vision, I saw Ivan in the exact spot he needed to be. Everything was going to be fine. This was what I’d been born to do. Digging my toe pick into the ice to go into the second triple toe loop of our jump combination, I had my opposite blade firmly on the ice, and I went up for another.

But I hadn’t been focusing. Not enough. I took it for granted as I reminded myself that I could do this shit with my eyes closed.

That’s when everything went wrong. My weight was off… I was too loose on my left side…. I hadn’t put enough speed into it—thinking I was strong and it would be fine—but it wasn’t. And the second I knew something was wrong, I tried to bail.

But I’d waited too long, when I tried to catch myself and land on my foot instead of just hitting the ice.

I felt it.

I knew the instant my blade grazed the ground that I had fucked up.