I’m not a figure-skating pro, but even I can tell it’s not going to land. I see the smallest flinch right before her takeoff—barely there, but it’s enough to throw her entire balance off. Her foot wobbles.
The sound of her hitting the ice is like a slap to my chest.
“Shit,” I breathe, skating toward her before I even think about it.
She doesn’t move at first. She’s lying there, her palms flat against the ice, her head bowed like she’s trying to breathe through whatever’s clawing up her throat.
I don’t say anything yet. I don’t want to treat her like glass. She’s not. But I want to help if she needs me. And for some inexplicable reason, Ireallywant her to need me.
A sharp exhale. Then—
“Fuck!” She slaps her palm against the ice in frustration, blinking hard, her jaw tight.
Her hands tremble as she pushes herself up, and I see not pain, not fear—rage.
She’s pissed. At herself. At me. Monroe doesn’t give herself room to be frustrated, only furious.
“Monroe—” I start.
“Shut up.” She levels a glare that could melt the entire arena. She blinks tears back, and I’m surprised to see them, glistening at the corners of her eyes.
I stop. She pushes up to sit, swipes at her damp waterline and hisses, “I wasn’t ready for that.”
“You were.”
“Iwasn’t.You just saw me eat it.”
“Yeah, you were.” My voice is steady. If she isn’t going to have the confidence she needs, I’m just going to have to have it for her. “You had it, you just psyched yourself out. It happens with athletes all the time.”
Then she’s back up on her skates, and she shoves me.
She’s not strong enough to really move me, but I take a half-step back anyway, giving her the space she is not-so-kindly asking for. She moves forward anyway, matching me skate for skate.
“You don’t get to push me like this,” she snaps, her hands flat against my chest. “You don’t get to decide when I’m ready, Rhodes.I decide.”
I exhale, running a hand through my hair. When has she decided to try anything lately? “Monroe—”
“No, I said shut up,” she cuts me off. “I’m not one of your Wolverines. I didn’t ask you here to play coach. I’m not some project for you to project your failed captain skills on.”
My jaw tics. She doesn’t get it. But she needs to direct her anger somewhere, and right now it’s at me and not herself, so I’ll take it. I’m a big boy. Her feelings don’t scare me.
“You’re right,” I say, my voice low. “You’re not. But skating isn’t over for you, Monroe.”
Her laugh is sharp, humorless. “You don’t know shit about me, Rhodes.”
Then she skates off, leaving me standing there like a fucking idiot. Again.
I don’t go after her. I just watch her disappear, the scene frustratingly familiar to our previous skate. I push, she gets pissed, she leaves.
I exhale a visible breath into the cold of the rink and shake my head, attempting to push Monroe out of it. My first game back is tomorrow, and I need to pull myself together.
Chapter Eleven
Monroe
I’ve completed two full weeks of school now, and I am finding that it’s infinitely easier to not fall behind in school when you actually make it a priority.
Who knew.