Ink and Ice, Erin McRae [primary phonics .txt] 📗

from above; looking up, he saw Brendan on the steps leading to an upper level, waving at him.

Zack weaved his way through the crowd toward him, Matt following behind. When they reached Brendan’s step, he pulled Zack into a hug. “Glad you made it.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Zack hugged him back.

“Come on, he’s this way.”

Brendan led them through a dizzying route of hallways, up and down flights of stairs and through hallways that didn’t get less crowded, but were definitely filled with skaters and team staff instead of spectators. The further they went, the more worried Zack got.

This was a terrible idea. He’s going to hate me forever. And I’m going to ruin his career—

“Holy shit,” Matt breathed, interrupting the churn of Zack’s brain. “Is that—Isao Chiba?”

“Yeah,” Brendan said, though, looking at the man walking down the hall in sequined trousers, a Team Japan jacket zipped up over his shirt.

“He’s set so many world records. He got gold at the last Olympics, in Harbin,” Matt breathed. His eyes were actually starry. “His free skate to Carmen is legendary.”

“Yeah,” Brendan said. “He’s a nice kid too. He tries to bake for everybody.”

“How do you know that?” Zack demanded of Matt.

“I follow him on Instagram. How do you not know that? You’re the one who wrote an article on figure skating for the country’s biggest sports publication!”

Zack, however, had stopped listening. They’d reached a room at the end of a hallway and in the doorway stood Aaron. His hand was on the doorframe, and Zack didn’t think he was imagining how white his knuckles were from gripping it too hard. He was dressed in his free skate costume, and staring at Zack like he’d seen a ghost.

“Uh, hi,” Zack stammered.

“Here for the final chapter?” Aaron asked, sharp and sullen. But it was all defensive bluster, Zack could tell. His heart wasn’t in it.

“Here because Katie ordered me to be here,” he said. “And while I could say no to her, I wanted to give you the chance to say no to me yourself.” Zack was distantly aware of Brendan and Matt in the hallway behind him, along with the other staff and skaters moving past. “Can I come in? We probably shouldn’t be doing this out in front of people.”

Aaron looked about to make a cutting remark, but then he stepped back to let Zack in.

The room was small, concrete walls painted white and blue under a glaring fluorescent light. There was a folding table and a few chairs, all looking somewhat the worse for wear. Aaron’s skate bag was in one corner, the contents spread out on the floor. What must have been Katie and Brendan’s things were piled together against another wall. A garment bag hung from a hook, and Aaron’s street clothes were draped over the back of a chair.

Behind them, Brendan cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go,” he said awkwardly. “But there’s about fifteen minutes before we have to get on to actually doing this thing. So if you’re going to sort yourselves out, I’d do it quickly.”

Zack almost laughed as he and Aaron nodded in unison.

“Katie’s got your tickets, let’s get you settled,” Brendan said to Matt, leading off in the direction of, Zack could only assume, the arena itself.

Aaron pushed the door shut, the sounds of the hallway outside instantly falling away.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he said, his shoulders slumping. More than angry, he looked exhausted.

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” Zack said. “But here I am.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“If yelling at me is what helps right now, I’m fine with that. I know this is a lot.”

“You’re damn right it’s a lot!” Aaron snapped, jerking his head up to glare at Zack, and there, there was the fire Zack had seen so often on the ice.

That was one way to help, Zack supposed.

“I said yes to Katie because she asked me to come and because I trust her. I know this is way beyond weird skater boundaries and into just bad boundaries, but if there was even a chance I could help, I wanted to offer it.”

Zack hesitated, waiting for Aaron to say something, but Aaron just stood there glowering at him. But maybe—just maybe—that fire was starting to melt something in his gaze.

“When this is over I am going to apologize again for everything and then we can do the work or not do the work or whatever you want. And if you want I will walk right out of this room and you’ll never have to see me again. But all I am here for, right now, is to do whatever I can so you can go have the skate of your life,” Zack said.

“What if I don’t want that to be the only reason you’re here?” Aaron’s words were hesitant, more than they ever had been with Zack before. But his eyes caught Zack’s and held them.

Zack decided that was enough of a cue that it was worth reaching out to touch Aaron’s hand. Touch was, he was fairly sure, the only thing that was going to settle him anyway.

Sure enough, Aaron didn’t pull away. As their hands slid together, Zack expected that they would simply interweave their fingers—a bit of quiet, of reassurance, maybe even a promise for a future with or without the Olympics. But Aaron was always full of surprises and didn’t stop moving until his wrist rested in Zack’s palm.

Slowly, carefully, Zack closed his fingers around the delicate bones.

“Give me the other one,” he said softly. It wasn’t any sort of question, and Aaron did as he was told, with an exhale that sounded to Zack like gratitude.

“Better?” he asked, when Aaron had closed his eyes.

Aaron nodded, but said nothing. Under any other circumstances, Zack would have prodded for more. But this was not that.

“Okay. Then I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?” he asked.

Aaron, eyes still closed nodded. Then, as an afterthought, actually answered him with words. “Yeah. I can.”

“Good. So the other thing