Page 61 of Shining Through

But as far as he knew, neither Bogdanov nor Nikolai knew anything about Tabitha. No one did. Because that was how she’d wanted it. Even as she talked of love, she was thinking of how to protect Brett, her pristine image and her pride. That way, when he broke her heart, the Ice Queen could carry on like nothing had ever happened.

He downed the last of the whiskey. The smoky liquid left a smooth burn as at ran down his throat and into his gut. Now his glass was empty. So was the bottle.

The old out-of-control Daniil would have staggered out into the cold, found the nearest bar and the first woman willing to warm his bed. But he’d wised up enough to know that he wouldn’t find any comfort, and it would only make a bad situation worse. Instead, he stumbled to the bedroom, collapsed onto the mattress, still in his clothes. His face rested where she had been. He fell asleep, still smelling her perfume.

He awoke, blinking at the bright sunlight that streamed in through the bedroom window. What time was it? In November, the sun didn’t rise until almost nine. He groped for his phone on the nightstand. When he found it, he sat up, head throbbing. Fuck. It was after 10:30.

He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes. On top of the worst headache he’d had in a year, his stomach churned. He needed aspirin, coffee, and a shower in that order, followed by a salty, greasy breakfast. Sausage, fried potatoes and onions, and thick bread, washed down with more coffee. Peasant food to soak up the alcohol and make him feel human again. Then, he could begin the real work of mending his heart.

The coffee and aspirin had tamed his headache. Once the hot steaming shower had soothed his physical aches, he had enough clarity to see where and how he’d fucked up. He also grasped why.

As angry as he’d been at Tabitha’s secretiveness, his reputation as a trouble-maker had given her good reason.

In his zeal to hurt his parents, the person he’d hurt most was himself. Vanessa was far away, too busy mixing it up with the British aristocracy to care what he did. His troubles returned the name Vanessa Townsend to the tabloids often enough, so that she wasn’t forgotten. Like her titled ex-husbands and the miniature dogs she carried everywhere, he was a colorful part of her glamorous mystique.

As for Nikolai, he was here in Russia, impressing his pop-star girlfriends with his Kremlin connections, and griping about his worthless son, the figure skater. All the while, he’d assuaged his guilt by channeling money into Daniil’s bank accounts.

Money Daniil had been all too willing to accept.

It had been an easy trap. Steady cash for rent and expenses gave him one less thing to worry about during the grind of training. He’d been able to stay in the sport even after Russian figure skating cut his funding. Anton, Ilya, and everyone else got paid.

And it kept him living in the style he liked. Who wouldn’t want to have money at their fingertips for planes, cars, expensive restaurants, lawyers and bail?

It was only since meeting Tabitha that he’d seen the true cost. She’d started with nothing and had earned everything she’d achieved. That was worth far more than a trust fund. While she enjoyed his wining and dining and pampering, she hadn’t asked for it. And if it were all gone tomorrow, she’d celebrate his freedom.

But the money wasn’t gone. Only Tabitha. And he could stay bitter and keep trying to hurt people who didn’t give a damn, or he could become the man she deserved. She believed in him, and it was time he believed in himself. He could fix this. Starting today.

He dressed and packed his suitcase. He wouldn’t return to this apartment, today or ever. The messy business of disentangling from Nikolai’s financial tentacles would take time, but tonight, he’d sleep in a hostel or on a friend’s floor with a clear conscience. Tabitha was what mattered right now.

He had to get to her.

~

In the locker room and the backstage athlete’s lounge, she felt her competitors’ scrutiny. With such a narrow margin separating her, Mia, Katia, and Yelena, anything could happen. The others seemed to sense she wasn’t at her best today. Was her heartache that easy to see?

When she came out to warm up before the competition, she glanced toward the empty seat where Daniil should have been. The arena thundered with applause for Yelena and Katia. Tabitha felt even more alone. She was far from her family. At odds with her coach, who’d spotted her returning to the hotel with teary eyes, just before midnight.

Like Antigone, she had nothing left but her mission.

As the first place skater, she performed last and remained in the athlete’s lounge until it was her turn. When she came out into the arena, she glanced at the leader board. Yelena was in first place, Mia second, Katia in third.

She skated out to a smattering of polite applause. Her Aegean blue draped dress fluttered as she came to a stop at center ice. Once more, she glanced toward Daniil’s still-empty seat, and then bowed her head, channeling her pain into her character.

The music began, almost too quiet to hear. After a few seconds, the volume rose to normal level, but she was skating slightly behind. She stumbled on the first triple-triple and had to touch the ice to stay steady. That would ding her Grade of Execution score, but she could recover the points. Provided there were no more mistakes.

Then two minutes into the program, on a choreo sequence that had never given her trouble, she stumbled and fell. Though she was down only a moment, it was enough to knock her from first place.

She wanted to quit, but she soldiered on, determined to salvage whatever points she could. Going into the final jumping pass, she was exhausted. Even as she took off, she knew it wasn’t enough to power herself through three rotations. All she could do was look confident, as if a double had been her intention.

Instead, she fell again.

At the end, she bowed and forced a smile for the judges, though the only positive was that the worst skate of her competitive career was over. As she came off the ice, Peter’s vacant smile spoke volumes. His disappointment over her abysmal performance. And the awful truth that their dreams of the Winter Games could have ended right here.

Her stomach rolled and her hands shook as they took their seats in the Kiss and Cry. “I’m sorry,” she began, then stopped. The cameras saw everything, and an apology only confirmed what everyone was thinking.

Her score was greeted with deafening cheers. For an irrational moment, her heart leapt, then crashed to earth. The Russian audience’s cheers were for Katia and Yelena, who had placed first and second. Mia Lang was third. Tabitha was fourth.

As agonizing as it was to smile in the Kiss and Cry, coming offstage was worse. In the athlete’s lounge she sat down to remove her skates, only to have the room flooded by a noisy crowd of Russian skaters, coaches, and supporters. Tabitha kept her head down, trying to stay unnoticed. She threw her skates into her bag, shoved her feet into UGGs and grabbed her team jacket. She glanced around once more for Peter, in case he’d come in during the melee. Peter wasn’t there, but her gaze connected with Ilya Zaikov, who stood at the edge of the Russian contingent. He gave a sympathetic nod.

---