Page 22

I remembered Dylan then, and sent her a quick text to say I had him and he was safe. She’d probably know what that meant, as she’d seemed so concerned to begin with. Things I didn’t know about Ren, she’d said. To watch out for him. It didn’t sound like the Ren I knew at all. He never needed help; he was always in control. This was . . . different. It made him less untouchable, and more real. I didn’t even know how to describe it, or what it did to me. I’d put him on this ice-dance pedestal, maybe even treated him coldly too, because that’s how he seemed. But I should have known better—known him better. The man I’d danced with wasn’t everything he was. The man off the ice wasn’t all of him either. Maybe the closest version of his truth was when we’d lain together. But even that had only been a part of him. Ren was a different person depending on who he was pretending for. The truth of him was somewhere in the middle of all that.

“You do this often?” I asked.

“Huh?” He slow-blinked, his eyes getting heavy now.

“Get wasted in random bars?”

“No. Never.” He swallowed. “Sometimes. Not recently. Before, I did. A lot.”

“Before what?”

“Before my father left me.”

Oh, okay . . . and there it was. I suddenly figured out who may have done this to him. Not directly, Ren’s father didn’t get him drunk, but he’d maybe driven him to it. And it sounded as though he’d done it before, probably around the time Ren had told him he was gay and good ol’ dad had slammed the door in his face.

I could see how that might cause someone to crash out. He’d been here before. Ren was controlled and cold and flawless, because he was afraid of what happened when he wasn’t all those things.

A whole lot about Ren had begun to make sense.

Ren had his eyes closed, but he wasn’t sleeping, not yet. His chest rose and fell fast. I studied his face, flushed from the heat and drink, but still ridiculously beautiful in that harsh way of his. When he wasn’t scowling, his cheeks were softer, his jaw less blade-like. Lips I had kissed, and wanted to again, so I’d know if I remembered it right.

“You should dance for you, remember?” I told him, real quiet now. The hotel was quiet around us too. Just him and me, somewhere in Sapporo, with heavy snow falling against the window. “We talked about this.”

“Hm . . .” Ren mumbled, eyes still closed.

He probably wouldn’t remember this, so . . . “He doesn’t get to control you, Ren. He doesn’t deserve you. Don’t dance for him, dance for you and what you want.”

“I’d like that,” he whispered, eyes still closed, breathing slowing.

“You’re a better dancer when it’s all you, baby,” I whispered.

“Baby?” His eyebrow arched. His sleepy lashes fluttered.

“I’ll deny it tomorrow.”

“You’ve called me baby before.”

“Yeah. You remember that?”

“So do you.”

“I remember all of it,” I said, smiling, so he didn’t know how those words hurt.

He turned his head and blinked sleepy eyes. “Me too.”

He hadn’t swept what had happened between us under a carpet and left it there? He thought about us too? About what we’d had? Did he think about it a lot, like I tried not to? Did he remember how it felt to be so close that we became one? Him and me, breaths and bodies shared. Would he ever want that again? Want us?

I closed my eyes and propped my head on my hand. “Go to sleep. You’ve got medals to win.”

“I will beat you.”

Opening my eyes again, I smiled at his semi-sleeping form, fully clothed on the bed. “Not like this you won’t.”

“Why’d you help me? You win . . . if you don’t . . .” He trailed off, trying to stay awake and failing.

“Because I know what being here means to you. And if you win, then you can prove you’re good enough to your father. Then, maybe you can let him go for good, huh? Choose your own way. Get out of his shadow.” Be who he truly wanted to be, whoever that man was.

He flopped his hand out, reaching for me. And fool that I was, I took it, squeezed it, and held his hand until he’d fallen asleep.