“Nationals are coming up in a few months,” he says, pausing just long enough for the words to land. “Petra has an opening for an alternate. If you start training now—”
I laugh. A sharp, humorless sound. “Oh, you’re out of your actual mind.”
He shakes his head, like he expected this reaction. “You said yourself that you’ll never compete at that level again, right? That you won’t skate Olympically again? Nobody is asking you to. But even injured, even recovering, you’re still eons better than half the girls on that team. If you come back for Nationals, that’s a shot at the Worlds team. So maybe not the Olympics, but your career can still be resurrected. I can help with that.”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “Are you actually trying torecruitme? Aftereverything?”
Aaron sighs, tilting his head. “Look, you can’t deny that we made the best pairs team in the entire country. And let’s be honest, M—if you want back in, even a little bit, this is probably youronlychance.”
My stomach twists.
“Consider this your comeback-kid moment.”
I don’t know what pisses me off more—the fact that he thinks he has any sway over me or the fact that for asplit secondI actually consider it. What would it be like to skate competitively again? That was mylife.
I take a long breath to quell the anxiety weighing heavy on my chest.
His lips curl, slow and deliberate. “Skating for Nationals, forWorlds, is ahellof a lot better than skating clinics at a local rink with some guy you didn’t know three months ago and who won’t even have a job in two weeks. Whateverthisis,” he sneers, gesturing vaguely in my general direction, “it’s a waste of your talent.”
That lands like agrenade.
“Just think about it, M.” Then he walks off, leaving the weight of his words in his wake.
I’m still standing in silence when my phone dings with the arrival of a text message. My heart leaps up into my throat, hoping it’s Rhodes with an update.
It drops right back down to my feet when I see who it actually is.
Mom (10:57am):Hi, sweetie!! I’m back in town—let’s grab lunch!
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rhodes
The rental car smells like stale cigarette smoke, and it’s exacerbated by the heat and the exhaust from idling for the last thirty-five minutes.
The trailer park community is across the street, and I haven’t gotten up the courage to get out and knock on Wayne’s door yet.
The heat is sticky, and I keep shoving my hair off my forehead. I’m sweating, and I can’t decide if it’s because of the temperature outside or my nerves.
I had a false sense of bravado all the way here—on the way to the airport, on the airplane, driving to the park. I’ve rehearsed over and over again what I want to say to him, and none of it feels completely right. It got to the point where I decided that I’m going to have to see if I can manage not to punch him in the face before we start talking, then maybe the right words will come to me.
I watch his front door, and my chest tightens when the door swings open and it’s him. His hair is longer than when I last saw him and it’s greasy. Dark brown, like mine. He’s got a beer in his hand. He saunters out and unlocks one of the tiny, metal boxes that holds his mail.
Images of my mom flash through my head. Of smashed glasses from his drunken rages and electricity being shut off when the bills weren’t being paid. I was too young to do anything to help her. Wayne was furious when she divorced him and left. He made shared custody a nightmare for all of us.
Eventually, when Paul came into the picture, he left her alone. Because he isnothingif not a coward at his core. So instead of beating her down, he ramped up his abuse of me.
I let my rage simmer as he reads his mail, unaware of my presence.
Stacks of papers sit in my lap. I had Kelsey and my lawyer draw them up so we could keep my father from contacting me, and so that I could recoup some of the damage he did to my name and career—because no matter what I do moving forward, even if I’m cleared, these news articles, this scandal, it’ll always be tied to my name now.
I thumb through the sheets. A reinstated restraining order I never should have let lapse, and defamation charges. Both things I plan on taking back to the NHL commissioner, along with all my bank statements. But I also have another plan I need to execute while I’m here, to seal the deal on proving my innocence. I ran it by my lawyer as a hypothetical once I booked my plane ticket, just in case it wouldn’t hold up. When I found out that my plan would pass as evidence in a court oflaw, though? I couldn’t have gotten out of Connecticut faster.
I didn’t tell Coach, Monroe, or Kelsey about this part, because I’m sure that all three of them would have tried to talk me out of it, and I didn’t want to be. I need this. A sure-fire way to nail this son-of-a-bitch’s coffin shut.
I decide it’s finally time to face my father once he’s back inside with the door closed. I turn the car off and grab the manila folder off my passenger seat and exit the rental car.