Page 88 of The Cutting Edge
Coco tilts her head up, eyes shining. "Me either."
Our kiss is soft and sweet and full of promise. And in that moment, with the woman I love in my arms and the Stanley Cup won, I know that the best is still yet to come.
Chapter forty
Coco
U.S.FigureSkatingNationals
This is it. The National Championships. My ticket to the Olympics is on the line.
The culmination of a lifetime of 5 am practices, triple-toe loops until my ankles screamed, and protein shakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. All for a chance at gold—and a ticket to Madrid.
My heart jackhammers against my ribcage, a familiar anxiety rearing its head. I take a deep breath, the flamingo-pink weighted blanket Logan gave me like a hug around my shoulders, as I repeat my sports psychologist's calming mantra.I've practiced for this moment. I deserve to be here.This is my night.
Marissa has already skated, delivering the performance of her lifetime, thanks to her insane talent, and raw determination – and the fact that we've been sharing my world-renowned coach in an effort to save money has meant Marissa has, for the first time, been able to work with a coach worthy of her talent. And in all those weeks when I was recuperating in the hospital and banned from practicing, the one-on-one time with Coach Susanne brought Marissa's program to the next level.
I couldn't be happier for her. She's the best friend I could ever have and an incredible skater -- nobody deserves this more.
I'm the last one to skate today, which means Marissa is a lock for a silver or bronze medal, depending on how well I do.
"I'm glad you're not going to knock my butt off the podium this time, but I want you to know I am completely cool with a bronze today as long as we both get to go to Madrid," Marissa laughs. "Go kill it out there."
I hug her tightly, both of us with tears in our eyes. "I love you."
"I love you too," she says as her eyes go wide. "Shit! I almost forgot this!" Quickly she unclasps my lucky aventurine necklace from her neck and places it around mine.
"Thanks," I say. "But don't worry, I've got all the luck I need."
"I know you do," she says, hugging me tightly.
“Coco, you’re up!” Our coach taps my shoulder and I head to the entrance -- pushing off, and gliding onto the ice. The crowd is a dull roar in my ears as I find my starting position and settle into my opening pose. I've never felt stronger or more beautiful than I do right now, standing on center ice in my silver Vera Wang skating dress.
All the voices fade away, and the lights blur into a golden haze. It’s just me and the ice. We know each other intimately, every curve and angle. I let my body take over, executing each element with precision.
A quad. Perfect landing. The crowd gasps.
My anxiety melts away with each successful jump. I’m not just skating—I’m flying. Soaring higher and higher, as light and free as a bird.
The final notes of my music fade and I strike my ending pose, chest heaving. A stunned silence, then an explosion of cheers.
I did it.
Tears blur my vision as I skate off the ice into my coach’s arms. We’ve done the impossible.
After all the heartbreak, the falls, the setbacks, I’m going to the Olympics. I canfeelit.
I sit in the kiss and cry, my heart pounding as I await my scores. The silence in the arena is thick with anticipation. All around me, spectators are leaning forward in their seats, eyes glued to the scoreboard.
My leg jitters uncontrollably, a product of nerves and adrenaline. I grip my coach’s hand, knuckles turning white. She squeezes back and offers an encouraging smile. “You were magnificent, Coco.”
Magnificent. The word echoes in my mind as the seconds tick by with agonizing slowness. If I’ve done enough, this will all have been worth it. The 5 a.m. alarm clock, the injuries, the loneliness. A life devoted single-mindedly to my craft.
Please, I whisper.Please.
A roar goes up from the crowd and my gaze snaps to the scoreboard. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. I just stare at the numbers, blinking hard.
A new personal best.
