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“Clearly, you’re tired from today.” My father sighed. “I’m expecting too much of you. We will go over your performance tomorrow, after you’ve calmed down.”

Calmed down?

I bumped into the desk, and braced a hand against it, needing it to hold me up. My legs wobbled, body flushed hot but trembling. Shock. It was shock.

My father had gathered his coat and was leaving. Everything I’d worked for crumbled down around me, and he was walking away? He’d never loved me, I realized. This wasn’t about me. If he cared, he wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t hurt me like this.

“If you go through with this . . .” I rasped. “I will not dance for you.”

“Yes you will, Ren. Enjoy your party. Good night.”

He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t. The Olympic committee wouldn’t pull an athlete because of one report, especially after Cam’s performance today. Historical infractions as a minor shouldn’t have major weight on an athlete’s standing today. My father’s reach didn’t extend that far. It couldn’t.

He was threatening, that was all.

He was angry, because of Cam’s unexpectedly brilliant performance.

I pressed both palms into the desktop and breathed.

I’d speak to my father again tomorrow, calmly. We’d discuss it. He’d know he was making a mistake. He was an honorable man. I believed that, I had to.

Tonight, I was going to the party.

And my father would not ruin it.

TWENTY-FIVE

CAMDEN

The party at the riverside café was in full swing by the time Zoe and I arrived. Banners had been strung across the ceiling—CONGRATULATIONS ATHLETES—with balloons and ribbons. There were figure skaters and ice dancers here, but also some ski jump folks who had competed during the day.

Accents and languages from all over bubbled around. The dress code was semi-smart, so we’d all turned up in shirts and plain trousers, while the ladies had gotten their sparkles on. It felt good to be out of the team gear. Felt like a slice of normal after a week of walking around like an advertisement for maple syrup.

I took some silly selfies with Zoe and sent them to Saga. He didn’t open them, but he’d see them later.

We gathered by the snack table with Team USA and Team GB.

Ren wasn’t there. I’d kinda hoped he would be. We hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Me saying, “Fuck you,” right before slamming the door. But we’d danced since then, and honestly, this party was for that, not our emotional baggage. He’d be professional. I could be too.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying, Cam, but you were remarkable today,” Tamsyn said, non-alcoholic drink in hand.

All the drinks were mocktails and non-alcoholic—it wasn’t a good look for athletes to get drunk in the Village—but each one was as fancy as the rest of the party food spread, with the carved little pieces of fruit and edible decorations.

“You too, Zoe, of course. It takes two to tango, right?” Tamsyn laughed.

“Right,” Zoe laughed along too.

“Zoe is remarkable,” I said. “I literally couldn’t have done any of it without her.”

We all got a chuckle out of that one.

I’d spent the last few hours trying to redirect the deluge of attention off me, and onto Zoe. The press had gone insane right after our dance, and hadn’t left us alone since then. My phone had been blowing up to the point I’d had to ignore the noise, or I’d still be in my apartment trying to field calls. Mom had called somewhere in the chaos too. I’d call her back later, when it was quieter.

“No Ren?” Zoe asked Tamsyn, deliberately not looking at me.

Ever since our chat outside the arena, I had a feeling she wasn’t buying my bullshit about me and Ren barely knowing each other anymore. Friends wasn’t cutting it either. But I didn’t mind it. Saga still wasn’t answering my calls, and I sensed that maybe Zoe would be safe to talk to, but I wasn’t sure if Ren would appreciate his drama being told to someone else. Probably not.

“He’ll be here,” Tamsyn said. “His father was looking for him, so they probably met up.”