Page 60 of Knot Sharing the Ice

Then there's the fact that a part of me doesn't feel like anything is left for me here anymore. Just bad memories. And an apartment that feels cold and empty without the warmth of my alphas.

Of course, there's always the chance the guys won't go for it.

That they're not ready yet.

But I'm pretty sure that's not the case, considering they're obsessive about scheduling visits every chance they get—andwhen we part ways, I practically have to peel myself out of their arms.

But the fear still has my nerves on edge.

I come out of the spin and move into the step sequence. My blades carve intricate patterns into the ice as I weave back and forth across the rink. It's easier for me to move, I reason. I compete at the national level as a solo skater, not with a team. And the guys have their whole lives in Belmont City. Their team, their fans, their home.

As I prepare for my next jump, a quadruple toe loop, I feel a familiar prickle at the back of my neck. It's the same feeling I get when the guys are watching me practice. But that's impossible. They're in Belmont City, preparing for some big non-game event this weekend. That's why I'm going there after the competition instead of them coming here.

I push the thought aside and focus on the jump. I launch myself into the air, spinning four times before landing cleanly on one foot. The crowd cheers, but there's one sound that cuts through the noise.

A familiar whoop that I'd recognize anywhere.

There, in the stands, are four familiar faces.

Adder, Carter, Mason, and Jayce.

They're all on their feet, cheering louder than anyone else in the arena.

They came.

They're here.

A warmth blooms in my chest, spreading through my entire body. They came to see me compete. They're supposed to be preparing for their event, but they're here instead, supporting me.

The sight of them fuels me, igniting a fire in my veins.

I throw myself into the rest of my routine with renewed vigor. Every move is sharper, every element more polished. Ipour every ounce of love and gratitude I feel for them into my performance.

Fuck…love?

Is that…?

Yeah. I guess it is.

As I move into my final combination spin, I can feel their eyes on me. I imagine their scents—bourbon and pine, dark chocolate, wood smoke, salted caramel—surrounding me, supporting me. I come out of the spin and strike my final pose just as the music ends.

The crowd erupts into applause, but I only have eyes for my alphas. They're yelling and hollering like maniacs.

Mymaniacs.

I take my bows, my cheeks hurting from smiling so wide. As I skate off the ice, I can't take my eyes off them.

They shouldn't be here.

But they came for me.

In that moment, any lingering doubts I had about moving to Belmont City vanish.

It's what I want.

It's where I belong.

Or, at least… withthemis where I belong.

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