Page 89 of Oh, Flutz!

“Fine,” he says crossly. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“So are you.” I tilt my head to the side, studying him.

One of the things I’ve never fully understood about my partner is how he can go from moody and upset to grinning and joking around in less than a second. It’s like he has this mask, or something. Like he never wants anyone to see the cracks in the porcelain—only instead of having a façade built of cold stares and an icy reputation, his is one of warmth and smiles and laughter. Like he doesn’t ever want anyone to see if he’s hurting, and only see the funny boy, the golden boy, the sunbeam who lights up every room.

“Bryan.” It’s a question. He lifts his gaze, and I track the tiny shifts in his expression that lead to surrender.

“Fine. You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’m aware.”

“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “I don’t know. I just—never really feel like a good son, you know what I’m saying?”

I do know what he’s saying. The difference is, unlike me, he doesn’t seem like he should be questioning it. “But you do so much for your family.”

“Not really.”

“Are you kidding? You drive your father to the doctor, you spend half your time with Alexandra, you take care of things while your mother is at work—"

Bryan shakes his head. “It’s my responsibility.”

One that he goes above and beyond over almost every single day. “Yes, but most people put that on the back burner when they have other things going on. You don’t. You’re doing an Olympic season and you still do all of that by yourself, without anyone having to tell you.”

He doesn’t meet my eyes. “Family’s important.”

“I agree.”He’s not getting it, I realize. “I’m just saying, you’re a good son. That’s all.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. “You know, I think that might be the first time anyone’s ever told me that.”

I laugh, then I realize he isn’t joking. My smile drops. “Bryan.”

“Katya.”

“Your parents don’t…” I search for the right words. “Appreciate all you do for them?”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that much.”

“Yes, it actually is.”

“You don’t think you’re being a little dramatic?”

“No, I really don’t. You give up so much of your time for them. You are always there for them—”

“I wasn’t before. That’s why I do it.”

I frown. “You mean when you were at international competitions?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t there, when they needed me. And they basically funded my career until—like, a few years ago. I have to make up for it somehow.”

Oh, I am definitely coming around to Paula Young’s workplace later. “You were ateenager, Bryan.”

“Come on, I was sixteen. It was no big deal, I’d been helping out since I was a kid. I had to pull my weight around the house since my dad couldn’t, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean you should feel guilty for not being around. You were winning. You were about to win Worlds—"

“Well, I didn’t.” The roughness in his voice rises out of nowhere. “Ididn’t, okay? Everything went downhill from there. So I think it’s safe to say that it’s my job to help.”

I swallow hard. “I didn’t mean—”

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