Page 31

I was about to find out.

ELEVEN

REN

Training had fallen off to make way for the Olympic machine in full swing. Interviews, rehearsals, and last-minute preparations for the opening. Tamsyn and I were ready. The team was ready. There wasn’t much else to do but go where we were told to, talk to who we were told to, and wait around with other athletes.

Cam had texted and suggested we could meet up again at skate sharpening. Nine p.m. We both knew the sharpening booth was closed.

Our day out in the city and the subsequent meet at skate sharpening, and what had happened while there, stayed with me all day. I’d told Cam the truth, about how I’d missed him, how I’d wanted more. It had been surprisingly easy. Two years ago, if someone had told me I’d be confessing my deepest thoughts and feelings to Camden Navarro, I’d probably have thrown a drink in their face and walked away.

During the press interviews, the reporters asked the usual questions: what was it like to work with my medal-winning father—big skates to fill—and were Camden Navarro and Zoe Phillipps our main competitors? I gave my typical replies with a smile, feeling relaxed for the first time since arriving in Sapporo. And it was noticed. Tamsyn asked what had put me in such a good mood. The press commented on how comfortable we looked as a pair.

It felt good, as though everything was finally coming together as it should.

At the end of the day, with one more day until the opening ceremony and the official start of the Games, I finally felt ready to compete and to win.

After dinner, I returned to my apartment, showered, shaved, dressed as casually as I could knowing that I was about to see Cam in under an hour and what that meant. It was always a thrill, seeing him. But touching him? Being allowed to wrap my arms around him and breathe him in? Accepting that I wanted him? It was freeing. Like dance was freeing. My feelings for him and the joy of dance existed in the same place inside me.

A knock rattled my door. I scooped up my jacket, about to head out anyway, and opened the door.

My father’s glare fixed me to the floor. “You are here.”

I opened my mouth to ask how he’d gotten inside the Village, which was a ridiculous question when he knew so many people on the Olympic committee. Why was he here? That was something I should also ask, but I couldn’t seem to find the words.

“May I come in?”

It wasn’t really a question, since he was already pushing past me. I stepped out of his way and closed the door behind him.

“Where were you going?” he asked, making it sound like an accusation.

I looked at the jacket in my hand and couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wasn’t, “Going to see Camden.”

“You’ve been ignoring my calls.” He stood in the middle of the apartment by the small couch, making the room feel even smaller, and looked around him with his typical analyzing gaze.

“I’ve been busy with opening ceremony prep⁠—”

“Busy?” He turned and folded his arms. A scowl from my father could freeze a lake in seconds.

I set my coat down gently on the table. His voice had gone tight and cutting, which usually meant I was about to be schooled on something, or disciplined, or both. I’d clearly done something wrong for him to be here, and I wasn’t entirely sure it was just about ignoring a few calls.

His cheek flickered.

What was he waiting for? I had no idea what he wanted me to say, and when I tried to speak, he spoke over me.

“I know who you’ve been busy with,” he said.

I tried to hold his gaze, to keep my chin high. I was a grown man. But it didn’t matter. Under the weight of his glare and the accusation in his tone, my shoulders dropped, and my gaze skipped away. I swallowed and looked down at the plain carpet. Shame crawled through me, breaking me out in a cold sweat. He knew I’d been socializing with Cam. Someone had seen us and told him. I should have expected it.

“I thought you’d gotten over this?” His blade-like tone cut.

Gotten over being gay? I almost laughed.

“You should go.” My voice came out too soft and quiet. Meek.

“Let me be very clear, Ren.” He strode closer, and now I did lift my chin, forced to stand upright to meet his judgmental gaze. Ever since I’d been small, he’d always been my judge, jury, and executioner. “Your entire career, everything you have worked for, culminates here. You will not mess around with that boy and ruin your life!” He didn’t raise his voice or his fists, but the words landed like blows. My father had never hit me, he didn’t have to.

“Cam’s not a boy, Father.” Neither am I. Why couldn’t I say that last part to his face?