Page 78 of The Cutting Edge
That’s incredible, Coco! I’m so proud of you! Dinner tonight to celebrate?
ME:
Love to.
LOGAN:
Great, I’ll pick you up at 7. Did you see the gif Lana posted this morning?
ME:
Not yet, I just got up.
He sends me a gif of the moment he saw me at the Philly game where he does a double-take and then drops this devastating grin. It says, “WE ALL NEED A GUY WHO LOOKS AT US LIKE #17 LOOKS AT COCO”.
And then another one, a supercut of like six swoony Logan expressions, then a clip of him drawing the heart on the plexiglass, and ending with my gooey expression on the kiss cam.
I reply with three hearts. This guy is freaking adorable.
"Girl, you won't believe what Lana did," Marissa exclaims, bursting into the kitchen with her phone in hand.
“Oh, I saw,” I giggle, showing her the gif.
“That’s hilarious. But no, this,” She shows me the Patreon page that Lana set up to help with my training expenses, and my jaw drops.
“Holy, what… that’s amazing," I say, touched by Lana's kindness.
“You already have like a thousand dollars in donations!”
“Seriously? From who?” I’m stunned and incredibly touched.
“Just…” she pauses as she scrolls on her phone, “I dunno, random people.”
I can feel myself tearing up. “For me?”
“Yeah, for you,” she says, hugging me. “I think people like the idea of helping someone, even in a small way, of helping someone achieve their dreams – especially an Olympic dream. You’re the best person I know. Nobody deserves it more than you.”
“Youdo.”
“Well, obviously,” she cracks. “We’re going to have to talk to Lana about setting one of those up for me.”
“Definitely,” I say. Can you imagine what it would be like to just… train? And not have to constantly worry about how we’re going to pay the bills?”
“Barely,” she says. “But I could get used to it pretty damn quick.”
“Me too,” I say, laughing.
Chapter thirty-four
Coco
Ispenttwoglorioushours on the ice today just getting my bearings back, and it was magical. 5 am be damned, I can’t wait for a full practice tomorrow.
I’m rested, steady, and ready to get into fighting shape for Nationals. My dreams can’t wait another day.
I stand in front of my closet, chewing my bottom lip as I contemplate the perfect date outfit. My hands shake with nerves—or excitement, I can’t tell which.
“Just pick something casual but cute,” Marissa calls out from the living room. Ever since we were kids, she’s had a knack for reading my mind.
