Page 127 of Rinkmates

He takes my trembling hand in his.

Hand in hand, we glide out.

Breathe. Smile. Dazzle them.

Even if it kills me.

Thirty-eight

RILEY

The roar of the crowd reverberates through the arena as Liora and I hit our opening pose, bathed in that hot spotlight. The music starts and we glide across the surface, each step perfectly synchronized with the song she chose. It’s “I Was Made for Loving You,” but not the version by Kiss. It’s a modern and raw version by Yungblud.

I lift Liora into a triple twist and her muscles tense up. This has never happened before. Something’s wrong. We manage the lift, but once I put her on the ice again, I notice a little wince. It’s barely there, but the flare in her eyes…she’s in pain.

I try to focus on our program, but my mind is racing.

Is she injured?

There’s simply no time to think as we move on to our next element.

We spin and leap across the ice. I just know there’s something wrong. Her movements are slightly off balance, her jumps not as high as they should be.

But she soldiers on, and the audience doesn’t seem to notice.

Until the triple axel.

I watch in horror as she fails to complete the rotation and lands awkwardly on one foot. My heart clenches but the crowd erupts into applause anyway. They have no idea that Liora just performed injured.

But I know.

And it breaks my heart to see her pushing through the pain for the sake of it.

Tears glisten in her eyes, and I know I need to do something. She can’t start crying in front of the camera.

But at what cost?

Instead of the planned ending pose, I pull Liora close and we share a passionate kiss, playing our roles for the audience one last time. I use it to shield her face, making her cling to me as the crowd erupts in a standing ovation. Without a second thought, I scoop her up in my arms, cradling her against my chest while we listen to the judges. They are clapping away and giving us twenty-eight points. I don’t know how, but Liora manages to thank them with a last forced smile before she pleads me to skate back. My showman’s grin hides the fear gripping my heart. In truth, all I can focus on is the way her body trembles in my arms.

“You’re hurt,” I whisper, waving and skating to backstage.

She barely nods, burying her face in the crook of my neck, and I feel her tears wetting my skin. I spin with her, trying to maintain the illusion that this is all part of the performance until we’re out of the spotlight.

Backstage is chaos, but I block it all out, zeroing in on an empty table in the back.

I set Liora down gently, my hands lingering on her waist. “What is it, Lia? Talk to me. Please.”

She opens her mouth to reply but a scream of agony comes out instead, her face contorting in pain. Priya comes running over.

“Shit. What happened?” she pants.

“My feet,” Liora gasps out between sobs, gesturing frantically at her skates. “My feet!”

Priya and I work quickly to unlace the skates, easing them off as carefully as possible. My hands tremble so hard.

But nothing could have prepared me for the sight that greets us.

Liora’s socks, once pristine white, are now drenched with blood.

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