Page 98

“Oh.” His fingers curled around it. “Thank you.”

I took a step back. It hurt, seeing him there, not fighting for himself. “I guess . . . it’s just . . . the Ren I know doesn’t run away when it gets tough. That’s all.”

His little curl of hair flopped free of its styling. “I think you’re confusing me with you.”

I laughed a little, but it came out sad. “Then maybe you should fight more like me, huh?”

“Fighting will not change the facts.”

“That’s such a fucking Ren Hasegawa thing to say.” I snorted. “Maybe you should be kinder to yourself. Take a look at everything you’ve done. And maybe you should dance despite your father, because he doesn’t get to control you, he doesn’t get to be the one to ruin it for you too.” The more I said, the more my heart pounded. “Are you going to let him take this dream from you like he took everything else?”

That one landed, and I almost took it back, because his face fell and he looked away again. His shoulders lowered. He closed his eyes. God, I wanted nothing more than to throw my arms around him and tell him he could dance, he had to dance, to prove his father wrong, like I was proving everyone wrong about me. His dancing was the only true thing that belonged to him, that his father couldn’t touch. His dancing was him. The truth of him. The real Ren Hasegawa on the ice, and nobody could take that from him. Unless he let them.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sure.” I took another step back, then another. The distance between us getting greater. Another step, and he wasn’t following, so it was over. I’d tried, and he was still leaving, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. “Alright, you’ve made up your mind. I guess I’ll see you round, Hasegawa.”

He faced me again, lips pressed into a thin line, and maybe his eyes shone a little too bright. He blinked quickly, and dipped his chin in a tight farewell nod.

“By the way . . .” I took a breath. I’d have to say the next words louder and in public, but he’d left me no choice. “I love you. Just thought you should know.” His face fell. “Not because of this, just . . . because . . . Text me, we’ll hang out some day, whatever.” I couldn’t stay to watch him crumple, not when I was about to lose it too. I’d told him all of it. I’d tried. And it wasn’t enough. That was okay. Mostly. He’d be Hasegawa, and nothing I could do was going to change that. I didn’t even want to. I admired him, how stupid was that? I admired him for sticking to his guns and leaving. But I hated him too. And loved him.

I had a lot going on.

Part of me hoped he’d run after me, tell me he’d changed his mind. But when I looked back, he was gone from the line, probably already through the scanners and on his way back to London.

And that was it.

I’d tried, and failed.

Ren’s father had won, even though he’d lost. He’d controlled his son and taken everything from him.

Zoe and I were in first place for the free dance tomorrow. And Ren wouldn’t be there to challenge us. He wouldn’t be there to watch either.

It broke my heart all over again.

But I’d dance.

Because that’s what I was here for, and nobody was taking this from me.

I’d dance tomorrow for Saga, for me, and for Ren.

Nothing would stand in my way, not even love.

THIRTY-FOUR

COMMENTATOR

And welcome back to Sapporo for the free dance, the final stage of the Olympic ice-dance medal event.

This is the performance the twenty remaining partnerships have spent years preparing for. The scores from the rhythm dance will be carried forward, the totals combined, and by the end of today, our Olympic champions will be decided.

The rhythm dance showed us technical precision. The depth of the edges, the clarity of the turns. The unity of the twizzles and the quality of the required pattern.

The free dance asks for all of that again, but it also asks for more. More character. More musicality. More emotion. The ability to make thousands of people inside this arena and the millions watching around the world forget the difficulty of what they’re seeing and simply feel it.

For many skaters, this is the program by which their Olympic games will be remembered.

And for one young Canadian in our opening group, it may be the defining performance of his career.