Her music begins to play, and she commands the attention of everyone in the bar. Everyone in the arena.

She’s utter perfection for the first minute in, and the announcers are already declaring her as the winner.

She deviates from her program with a quadruple lutz that she lands perfectly. Then she does another.

As if she has something to prove, she attempts and lands a series of triple salchows, and then she gears up for a fourth quadruple lutz.

She launches herself into the air, but she doesn’t land with her blades this time.

Her head hits the ice first.

I stand up from my chair as blood spatters onto the ice, as the announcers scream for someone to help her.

Deafening screams and wails fill the bar, and the TV cuts to a quick commercial.

Without a second thought, I rush to the airport and pay triple for a last-minute ticket to Chicago.

“Took you long enough.” Travis stands up the moment I step into the waiting room.

“How is she?”

“Broken legs, wrist fracture, fractured skull, and selective, spatial memory loss. The latter has to be short term, because she remembers all of my transgressions just fine.” He rolls his eyes. “The doctors say she’ll recover easily, but she’ll never skate again. They say her chase for twenty-eight is officially over.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Me neither.” He pats my shoulder. “I’m getting her some snacks from the cafeteria. You want anything?”

“No, thank you.” I walk down the hall and into her room, expecting to see her sleeping, but she’s sitting up.

Even with her head wrapped in bandages, she’s still fucking gorgeous.

“You wear suits now, Hayden?” She smiles. “I would give you a compliment on how good you look, but I don’t want to feed your ego, and according to my journal, I hate you.”

“You definitely do.” I laugh and set a bouquet on her table.

“Before you say anything, can you tell me if Hell has frozen over, or if I’m still in a coma?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“I had a vision that Tatiana Brave came in here with flowers, and she was crying like she gave a damn about me being hurt. I can’t believe that was real.”

“Hmmm. Let’s see.” I flip over some of the bouquet tags, stopping when I see one signed as, “Your sworn enemy and #2 Skater in the world.”

“She was definitely here.” I pull out the card and clear my throat.

Penelope,

* * *

 

How dare you get hurt months before the world championships?

* * *

 

You are utterly selfish for attempting another quad in what was already a winning routine, and I will never EVER forgive you for that.

* * *

 

I’m praying for a miracle because I want to beat you once and for all.

* * *

 

Love

(Ha! Not really. I don’t have any freaking white-out :-/ )

Tati

* * *

 

P.S. You’re the only person in this sport I’ve ever respected 100%, but I still hate you down to your marrow.

“She drew a few lines through that last note, and then under it she wrote, Your costume sucked ass and I look forward to being the new #1.”

“Of course, she did.” Penelope snorts. “I hate her so damn much.”

“No, you don’t.” I sit on the edge of her bed. “I think you respect her, too. In fact, I think you two would be cool if you weren’t such vicious competitors.”

She doesn’t respond to that, but the look in her eyes says it all. “Why aren’t you and I friends?”

“Probably because of our Cold War.”

“One you started according to what I wrote.” She holds up her journal.

“I’m sure your point of view of the past several months is biased.” I take off my jacket.

“Why did you stop talking to me?” she asks. “Was it something I did?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I was just being selfish. That’s all.”

“Selfish about what?”

I don’t answer that. “Are you still with Tim?”

“Who the heck is Tim?” She shakes her head. “You’re the second person to ask me that today. He must not have been that important because he’s not written in my journal at all, and I remember every guy I’ve dated since you left. I have Jackson, Roger, Tate, and Randall—all breakups that you weren’t there for.”

“I’m sorry. Will I have to grovel in order to get your friendship back?”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be making a list, then.”

“I’ll follow it.”

She swallowed. “I’ve missed you, Hayden.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” I point to her journal. “Are any of those breakups worth recapping?”

“Well, let’s see. There’s the one who stole my car.” She flips a page. “The one who couldn’t stop burping, the one who told me that I was in love with someone else, and the one who pulled out his cock in the movie theater.”

“I’d like to hear all of them except that last one.”

“I’ll have to start with that one then.” She laughs and slams the book shut. “Promise me something.”

“Yeah?”

“The next time I’m head over heels in love with a guy, tell me to break up with him when things start getting serious if I’m not exactly who I want to be.”

“Why the hell would I ever tell you to do that?”

“Because I’m noticing a theme in all of my journal entries,” she says. “I mean, at the end of every recap, I tell myself the same lessons and they clearly never take. I forget about my own dreams and latch onto his, or I try to become a part of his world at all costs, while sacrificing my own.”

“So, you want to push the one who loves you away?”

“He’ll understand why, if he loves me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Penelope.”

“Just say you’ll do it, no matter how much it hurts. You’ll tell me to focus on my dreams and accomplish everything I want before I get super serious with anyone else.”

“Even if he really loves you?”

“Especially if he really loves me.”

She falls asleep after we’ve caught up on a few things, and then she’s wheeled into a series of surgeries the following evening.

Then again, the next day.

Her memory comes back in pieces here or there, but it’s never the whole thing. And it’s never quite in order.

On the one hand, her failure to recollect Tim helps me with Tinder. I mean, Cinder. On the other, I know that one day, should we ever cross the line, she’ll fail to see that I did exactly what she made me promise to do.

Forty-Five