Page 92 of Unsteady

And it works—like it always does. I hit every jump better than I have all night, every pose is powerful, thrilling even. I feel electric, so much so that there’s a bright smile on my face after it’s over as I head towards him.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I smile and nod, because it does feel good—it feels amazing. Kelley’s praise is just the cherry on top. I go to grab my water, but he stops me with a hand on my arm, and then clasps my chin to meet my eyes.

“Beautiful, okay? You are so strong.” If possible, my smile grows wider. But then he adds, “See how capable you are when you’re not so distracted. Leave the stupid boy in the past, yes?”

I jerk my head out of his grasp because just the mention of Rhys is enough for a bolt of longing to wrack through my chest.

“Yes,” I mutter, pulling my guards from the board they’re resting on.

“Have you given any more thought to what I offered for your brothers?”

Yes, and the answer is and will always be no.

“I’m thinking about it,” I lie.

I haven’t told Coach Kelley about the meetings with the lawyer, or accidentally stumbling across Liam’s birth mother and basically blackmailing her into signing away her parental rights. Not that it would’ve taken much convincing. “I haven’t made a decision.”

He says he knows a lawyer who would help me make sure they go to a family who can properly care for them.

It doesn’t matter. I’ll give Coach Kelley every part of me to succeed. But I won’t give up my brothers.

“You know I am only thinking of you, my terror.” He’s called me that since I was twelve, probably because I was terrorizing every other girl in my age bracket at the time. “I have your best interest at heart.” He touches my shoulder as he walks by, leaving me in the arena alone.

I sit on the bench for a long moment, trying not to overwhelm myself with the sudden racing thoughts he’s left me with. But, when I realize I’ve left my phone in the locker room— which means I’ve had no contact with my brothers, or Miss B, or Aurora—then I shoot up, sliding my left guard on as I step.

There’s a figure in the stands, just above the tunnel, still seated quietly. I squint up at him in the muted light of the arena.

“You can’t be in here—it’s a closed practice,” I grumble, loud enough to be heard.

A smoky chuckle reverberates in the empty room.

“I can see why,” he says with the kind of voice that makes my subconscious screamDANGER.

“Who the hell are you?” I bite, feeling myself raise up like a feral animal.

He jumps over the lowest railing, which still sits fairly high, and lands like a jungle cat. He straightens, towering over me in black track pants and a black Dri-Fit, looking so much like what meeting the devil might look like.

Especially his eyes—bright gold, almost ethereal even in the dark. His mouth is tilted half up, a crooked grin that looks like an insane GQ model just finished a killing spree.

“Kane,” he supplies. “And you’re the little figure skater that knows all of Captain’s secrets.”

He’s unfortunately attractive, golden tan skin and black hair, slightly shorter on the sides and a rasping mess of waves on the top that looked repeatedly combed through. His face is all sharp angles, highlighted by a scar down one side of his cheek and jaw, another nick on the skin of his neck, a small one pulling at the cupid’s bow on his pouty lips.

“Are we on a fucking pirate ship? You’re pulling a real evil villain thing right now.”

He shrugs and rolls his eyes, still grinning, crossing his arms casually.

“Aren’t I always?” He’s speaking more to himself as he rolls a stick between his sharp, gleaming teeth—a lollipop, I realize with a jolt.

Satan is sucking on a lollipop.

I almost want to laugh, but I’m anxious enough in this rink alone with him that I manage to snuff it out before it bubbles over.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what your deal is, but I’ve got all the annoying assholes I can deal with right now, okay? Move.”

“Does your perfect little boyfriend know that your coach overtrains you?”

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