Page 38 of The Twilight Theft

“You met President Obama!”

“I got involved with the First Lady’s Let’s Move campaign.” He pointed to a framed newspaper clipping, where he stood at a lectern, while Michelle Obama sat off to the side. “I had the opportunity to provide input and do some talks to kids around the area.”

“That’s amazing.” The accident had destroyed my life. The leg healed well enough for me to walk and run, but my tumbling took a nosedive. Four operations after that, and I eventually gave up.

“You never competed again. Why not?”

“I still feel this pain.” I brushed my fingertips over the spot above my left knee. “Mom said it was all in my head.”

Tanner leaned against the wall beside the photographs. “That’s about where my phantom pain is.”

I’d lost so little compared to him. But he was the one who’d moved on with life. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Not for that.” For everything. “For not visiting. For never calling or checking in.”

“You did. My sister told me you were there.”

I’d tried before I was discharged, but his parents wouldn’t let me near him. He wasn’t supposed to have been out that night. Our coaches insisted on an early bedtime, so we’d be well-rested for the last day of the competition, but we had a tradition. We’d both broken curfew and taken my mom’s rental car out for a stress-reducing quickie. Sex was good luck.

Then he’d told me he was done with our friends-with-benefits arrangement. He wanted more.

That wasn’t part of the tradition.

That wasn’t good luck.

“I’m sorry for what I said that night.” I didn’t want the complication. Breaking curfew was one thing—a relationship was a different matter.

“You told me you loved me.” He put a hand on my arm and squeezed. “Don’t apologize for that.”

I swallowed hard. ‘I love you, but I need to focus on London and so do you.’Those words had haunted me for twelve years. If I’d said yes, he wouldn’t have been upset and he would have been more focused on the drive back to the hotel. He would have noticed the other car. He would have…

“It wasn’t your fault.”

But it was. “Marie’s a lucky woman.”

He grinned, the little dimple in his left cheek showing up for the first time. “She is.”

I’d spent the first two years after the accident trying to heal and get back into Olympic-hopeful shape. My mom helped, but with each operation, I saw less and less of her. My sister was busy with figure skating competitions and the spotlight moved from me to her.

Mom loved me, but she needed to focus on my sister.

One champion replaced by another.

“Did you ever settle down?”

The ache started in my thigh. I was standing still for too long. “Too busy to focus on that.”

“Recovering things?”

“Exactly.” I dug a thumb into the sore spot. “I should go—”

The front door opened and closed and a woman poked her head in. She was pretty, with short brown hair, bright green eyes, and a warm complexion. She gasped and smiled at me. “Jayce Monroe?”

Tanner chuckled, keeping his gaze on his wife. “Marie’s seen lots of photos of our competition days.”

“I didn’t know you’d be stopping by.”

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