Page 109 of Fly Boy
“You were fired!?”
I open my mouth to speak, but close it quickly, not wanting to answer her question, instead asking, “What are you doing back?”
She glares at me, propping her hands on her hips. “I came back to surprise you before your boys’ weekend, but imaginemysurprise when I found out you werefired?”
“Who told you?” I ask, confused.
“So it’s true?” she asks in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to tell you after Worlds,” I say calmly, which appears to anger her more, her face growing red. But I don’t understand how she knows. “Who told you?”
“After Worlds?” she shrieks, ignoring me again, and I swear I see her stomp her foot. “You were going to wait a whole week before telling me my dad fucking fired you?”
I try to reach for her, but she snaps her arm out of reach. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
I flinch, stepping back, giving her the space she obviously needs. I want to comfort her, to tell her that I’m fine, thatwe’refine, but she storms into the kitchen, huffing loudly, and threading her hands into her hair.
“Your focus needs to be on your upcoming competition,notmy recent dismissal from my job,” I say, my voice as serene as I can muster, versus her high-pitched, irate one. “How did you find out about it anyway? I was under the impression your father was waiting.”
“You and my father do not get to determine what I should and should not be allowed to know,” she snaps. “When did this happen?”
“The other day,” I reply, resigned to answering her questions if it helps her take a breath. Only, everything I appear to say is making it worse.
Her nostrils flare as she starts to pace, stopping halfway and whipping around. “Wait, was this before or after we video called?”
I itch the back of my neck. “Before.”
She growls, the sound oddly frightening from someone so small. “So that’s why you were avoiding me on the phone.”
I shake my head. “No, wait a minute, Pippa. I wasn’t avoiding you. I was focusing on Québec…”
“You’re unbelievable,” she huffs to herself. “More interested in yourboys’ trip.”
“It’s not just aboys’ trip,” I say, trying to approach her again, but the look she gives me could turn Medusa herself to stone. “Baby, it’s—"
“You should have told me,” she cuts me off. “I shouldn’t have to find out days later.”
“Who—”
“Liam,” she cries out in exasperation, throwing her arms in the air. “Liam told me, okay?”
“That little shit,” I chuckle.
“Why are you laughing, you asshole?” she seethes. A vein in her throat throbs as she slowly turns a brighter shade of red. “This is serious, Wyatt. Did he give you a reason? My dad? Why did he fire you?”
I run my hand through my hair, not particularly wanting to share this bit. Not when she’s so close to her goals. She should be focusing on the Championships and the Championships only. “Pippa, now’s not the time to discuss this.”
“Why?” She thrusts her finger at me. “And don’t you dare say it’s because of my skating.”
She’s breathing hard, more veins making themselves known in the side of her temples, her eyes glassy with what I think are tears of frustration. Hands shaking by her sides, rage fuels her as she stares at me from across my kitchen.
“Tell me, Wyatt,” she pleads.
I pause before saying, “Over twenty-five thousand dollars was charged to the company for aviation fuel used for unauthorized flights.”
Her lips tug down at the sides, her forehead wrinkling. “What does that even mean?”
“They were the flights I’d flown to California for the U.S. Championship and…”
