“Yeah, I would have. I would have done all of those things. We both know that. But you’re an idiot for not understanding why. I would have given you a hard time because we were in it together. Because we were a team, and I wouldn’t just give up on you like it was nothing. But you’re a grown-ass man that makes his own decisions. I wouldn’t have tied you up and forced you to stay. Give me a fucking break.”

The moment the words were out of my mouth, I was genuinely surprised by them. I don’t even think I had ever thought that way before. Much less felt that way.

But I had.

He’d hurt me, and I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know that I had cared about him. And I wasn’t above wanting him to know that I would have fought for him.

But that was two years ago.

One year ago, I would have wanted to beat the shit out of him. I would have been too prideful to ever admit any of this. But I wasn’t. Not anymore. At this point, all I wanted was to get this horrible guilt and anger I’d been suffering with off my chest. I wanted it out of my life. Out of me.

I wanted to move on. Maybe I already had. Mostly.

I still wanted to beat his ass, but I’d settle for making him regret the day he’d met me. The only way to do that was to kick the shit out of him and Mary on the ice. And I would. Ivan and I would.

“I cared about you too, Jasmine,” he said, making me roll my eyes. “I still care about you. When I heard about your sprain, I was worried. I wanted to call you, but… I couldn’t.”

Yeah, he got another eye roll for that shitty lie. “Okay.”

“You don’t understand….”

I raised my hands at my sides and let them fall right back down. “Okay, Paul. Tell me. Right now. What is it you want me to hear, huh? That you left me because you wanted a better chance at winning?”

This man gulped again, dragging his hand down his face and over the white and blue spandex bodysuit costume he had on. “Why do you always turn shit around? I miss you, Jas. I’ve picked up the phone to call you at least a dozen times….”

All I wanted was for him to shut. The. Fuck. Up.

“Honest to God, cross my heart and hope to die, I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Or ever again. Whatever you thought you felt, whatever excuses you’ve talked yourself into believing to justify the way you treated me… live with it. Deal with it. If you know me half as well as you think you do, you know I’m not ever going to forgive you.”

“Jasmine, I—”

“Nope. Don’t even bother. If you see my mom, run the other way. If you see me, turn around and pretend that you don’t,” I said to him, sounding oddly calm. “I would have forgiven you if you’d talked to me first. I would have forgiven you for saying all that shit you did about finding a partner you can ‘really work with.’ And I could have forgiven you eventually for shoving me out of your life. But I’m not going to. I’m not that good of a person.” I swept my eyes to the side, giving him my best blank expression and said, “You better go. I have shit to do, and I don’t want you as an audience.”

Paul Jones blinked. I’d swear maybe even his chin wobbled a little bit. But in that way that was his, he glanced away and sighed, pressing his lips together. “Jasmine, look—”

“Just go.”

“I just want to tell you—”

“I don’t care,” I said, giving him my back again.

He was so full of shit. Ugh.

“Do you even know why I never called you back any of those times you’d leave me voice mails cussing me out right after? Or that time you called me drunk months later, yelling at me?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t really care,” I told him, my voice even, almost robotic as I looked past him toward the door and prayed, prayed that Ivan was coming.

He frowned so deeply lines formed across his forehead. Those brown eyes sliced away from me before they came back. “Jasmine, it was because Ivan called me a week afterward and said he would ‘fuck me up’ if I ever contacted you again.”

The hell did he just say?

“Stop looking at me like you think I’m lying. I’m not. He called me and said that if I knew what was good for me, I would leave you alone, but if I didn’t, he was going to fuck me up so bad I would regret the day I ever decided to skate pairs.”

Ivan.

Ivan had said that? Done that? But that had been a year before we’d paired up, weeks after we’d flipped each other off in a hallway, I was pretty sure.

Ivan had done that?

“I also said that I’d destroy you. You missed that part,” a familiar voice piped up, making both of us turn to find Ivan peeking his head inside the room, the door barely cracked, hair perfectly gelled into place, his face shaved clean, everything about him bright and sparkling. And he was smiling. And holding red roses.

I loved him.

Goddamn I had no idea what the hell had happened or why it had happened, but I loved him so much in that moment, my heart could have burst.

“But Jasmine can too. She’s so small and cute, it’s deceiving how strong she is. And it’s weird how mad she can get. She’s like a little Gremlin; you better not put any water on her because she’ll go crazy,” he went on, smiling at me with affection as he stepped into the room fully, showing off his matching black costume. “But you should know that.”

Paul looked between Ivan and me for a moment before taking a step to the side, away from me.

“I—”

“She’s my partner now, Paulie, and she’s going to keep being my partner. And you know what? I’m not real good with sharing, so it might be a good idea if you got out of here before all those things I had warned you about come true,” Ivan cut him off, as he came to stand at my side.

Ivan didn’t touch me. He didn’t need to. I knew he was there, and he knew I knew that.

That was the thing with us. We understood each other. We knew the length and depth of our trust and loyalty. And that meant more than any empty-ass words ever would.

“Don’t you have something you need to go do?” Ivan asked with a deceptively lazy blink.

Paul sighed, then took a step back. He glanced at me over his shoulder, his lingering look might have made me feel bad if I hadn’t wanted to kill him, before he headed toward the exit. He’d barely opened the door when Ivan’s fingers slipped through mine.

“You handled that better than I would have expected,” he said, not even lowering his voice considering Paul wasn’t out of the room yet.

I peeked up at him. “You think?”

His nod was so enthusiastic, it made me almost laugh. “Yeah. Coach Lee and I thought you’d at least slap him.”

“You told me not to.” Damn it.

“No, I told you to wait until after this was over. I didn’t think he’d actually come up to you and try and talk to you. He doesn’t know you at all, does he?” Ivan snickered. “Dumbass. I bet he has no clue how close he was to dying. I could hear it in your voice, and once I saw your face, I was honestly worried you were going to do some John Wick shit with the comb I left on the counter.”

I couldn’t help but bust out laughing. I couldn’t remember ever laughing before a competition. Ever. Not once.

The tug he gave my hand made me look at him as I kept on laughing.

“You good?” he asked, pressing our joined hands against his hip.

I nodded, and once I’d stopped laughing and still had a smile on my face, I narrowed my eyes on him. “Did you really call him and tell him not to contact me ever again?”

That was the thing about Ivan. He didn’t bullshit. Not ever. I didn’t think he was even capable of being embarrassed either. Because there was no hesitation as he responded. “Yes.”

“Why?”

His body didn’t move from its spot beside me, his hand didn’t let go of mine either as he said, “Because Karina called and told me what happened. She asked if there was anything I could do. If I knew anyone else that you could pair up with.”

This low-level hum began in my ears, but I made myself ask, “Then what happened?”

“I told her I didn’t. Then I called him and told him how it was going to be, I was that pissed,” he explained easily.

I felt like a dumb, pathetic girl asking for reassurances, but I didn’t care enough to let it stop me. “You were mad for me?”

“No shit, Sherlock. The idea of you being upset over that waste of breath pissed me off. You deserved better.” He smiled and pressed our hands tight against his side. “If you were going to cry for anyone, it was going to be me.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

But then Ivan moved his body. He moved it to face mine, to stand in front of me, forcing me to tip my head back just enough so I could look at his eyes, the bouquet between us. Slowly, taking his time, his forehead dropped to mine. “Do you regret what happened?”

I looked right into those clear blue eyes and told him, “It was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

“Me too, Jas.”

And this… this thing that I knew was love bubbled up inside of me, and I knew it was a stupid idea. I knew I needed to shut the fuck up. But as I looked into those beautiful eyes and held that hand that had been there to hold me up so many times, I reminded myself that I was nobody’s bitch.

Not even my own.

“Vanya,” I started to say, oddly not nervous, so close his breath touched my lips. “I don’t expect anything from you, and I don’t want to make this weird, but I want you to know—”