Page 130 of Falling

“I’m always right, my love,” she says, squeezing my face between her hands. “I thought Wren was coming with you. Could she not make it?”

I shrug, trying to play off the hurt that I feel because she isn’t here. “She’s deep in competitions. We’ve both been busy with school, and I didn’t want to push her.”

Mom hums, rubbing my knee. “You’re a good boyfriend, Miles.”

“Am I? I feel like I’m not doing enough. Every time I think we’ve reached a new point in our relationship, something else happens and I feel like she’s pushing me away,” I get out. I’m sure my mom doesn’t want to hear about my internal drama right now, but I have no one else to talk to about it. “She’s not used to people looking after her, Mom, and it breaks my heart. Every time I try to be there for her, she freaks out and runs away.”

My mom’s eyes soften. “And you’re there for her when she needs you?”

“Always.”

She hums. “I know that feeling—being too scared to let good things happen to you. I was the same with your dad, but I came around. As long as you’re showing up for her, making sure she knows that you’re in her corner, that’s all that matters. Sometimes it’s all you can do,” Mom says, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve seen the way that girl looks at you. She looks at you like you hung the moon.”

My heart swells at the idea. That’s exactly how I look at her. Wren Hackerly is everything to me: the light in the darkness, the warmth in the cold. But lately, it feels like that light is dimming, like I'm losing her bit by bit, and I don't know how to stop it.

“Why were you talking to Carter's parents?” ask, changing the subject.

There’s a softness in my mom’s eyes, a hint of sorrow that cuts through the mask of composure she wears so often. “They wanted to ask for your approval on a memorial the college is considering for Carter,” she explains, her voice laced with a quiet sadness that echoes the ache in my own heart.

The name alone is enough to send a pang of grief coursing through me, a sharp reminder of his absence has left in my life. But what stings even more is the realization that his parents sought solace elsewhere, turning to my mother instead of reaching out to me directly.

“Why didn't they mention it to me?” I ask.

My mom’s gaze meets mine, her eyes brimming with unspoken emotions that threaten to spill over at any moment. “They see so much of Carter in you, Miles,” she murmurs, her voice heavy with emotion. “It's hard for them to separate the two, especially after everything that happened.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, a reminder of the loss we all still carry with us, a burden we can never truly set down. And as the pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place, a wave of guilt washes over me, the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken words holding me down.

“I'm sorry, Mom,” I whisper for what feels like the hundredth time. “I didn't mean to shut you out.”

Mom’s hand finds mine, her touch gentle yet reassuring as she squeezes it gently. “You don't have to apologize, my love,” she murmurs, her voice filled with unconditional love and understanding. “We all have our own ways of coping with grief. But remember, you're not alone. I'm always here for you, no matter what.”

“I know,” I say, swallowing before meeting her eyes again. “I think they should do it. The memorial. I know they’re hurting, but it would be a good official reminder of him on campus.”

My mom smiles. “That’s exactly what I told them.”

Having us both agree on something like this makes the future of our relationship seem way less daunting. It’s like we’ve finally set down some stepping stones for our future and we’re going in the right direction.

It’s good to be home.

42

WREN

‘YOU’VE GOT ME?”

I don’t meetMiles for lunch like I said I would.

I don’t see anyone I’m supposed to be friends with for two weeks unless I accidentally bump into them on my way to the rink, the gym, or on the bus to another comp. Competing in the championships is hard enough, and having my mom’s words still ringing in my ears isn’t helping. It only took one conversation with her to prove how completely and utterly unlovable I am. How easy it is for people to lose interest in me when I’m no longer performing for them and bending over backward to change into a person that is more digestible for them.

I never even wanted to experience romantic love until I met Miles. I was so content with it just being me and my girls, and I didn’t need a man to fill that gaping hole inside of my chest that has never fully healed. But, deep down, I crave it now more than ever.

As much as I love my friends, as much as Kennedy and Scarlett have been my anchors in this storm, it’s not the same. There’s a part of me that still craves romantic love. The tender moments, the whispered words of affirmation, the feeling of being someone's priority. I want to know what it's like to be cherished in that way, to be the person someone chooses every single day, not out of obligation, but out of genuine love.

I thought Miles was that person for me, the one who could see past the walls I’ve built and love me for who I am, not who I pretend to be. But now, I can’t shake the fear that maybe my mom was right. Maybe I’m too much work, too much trouble, and not worth the effort in the long run. Maybe Miles will get tired of me too, just like everyone else.

I try to focus on my routines, on the precise movements that have always given me a sense of control. But the ice feels colder beneath my skates, the applause emptier, and the victories hollow. Pushing Miles away might have been the stupidest thing I’ve ever done because every piece of happiness that I get falls short of what it would have been like if he was there. I don’t get his stupid jokes, his smiles, his ridiculous singing, and his inability to keep his hands off me. I didn’t think I’d miss him so much, but keeping him at arm's length has been good for my performance, although not so much for my personal health.

I can deal with that later.

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