Page 68 of Pivot Point

We’d gotten over a hundred and thirty-five points? Even a hundred and thirty was rare. Holy shit.

My world spun. Jasper let out a startled crow of amazement and wrapped me in a hug. Niko flung his arms around both of us, and in that moment, there was nothing in my entire being but joy.

TWENTY-SIX

Luciana

By the timeJasper and I were called onto the ice for our second-place finish—our amazing free skate score tugged a bit low by our not-quite-as-spectacular short program—the giddy rush of excitement hadn’t faded. I didn’t stop grinning once as we stood side by side, basking in another round of applause.

Somewhere in the stands, Quentin and Jess would be watching. Their performance a couple of spots after ours had looked not just precise but rigid to my eyes, and Jess had lost her balance during one of the lifts, nearly kneeing Quentin in the face as she fell.

Despite their solid showing in the short program, they’d dropped down to seventh. I might have grinned even wider knowing that this was the last we’d have to see their smug faces around, since there was pretty much no chance they’d be welcomed at the National Championships with that placing.

Sure, I might miss the competitive thrill of facing off with our rivals a little, but it’d be more than worth it not to have to see Jasper’s frustration when that jerk mouthed off at him.

It was hard to believe I’d made it this far when just months ago, I’d thought I’d never be able to compete at all. I resisted the urge to pinch myself.

I kept my arm looped around Jasper’s waist as we skated back to the stands. When we reached Niko, I pulled him into yet another hug before aiming my grin at both of them.

“This is the best day ever. Obviously we need to celebrate. I’ll run and get changed—then we can figure out where to go for dinner. I’m ready to pig out!”

Niko laughed and gave my cheek a quick kiss. We all tramped off toward the locker rooms.

The woman’s room was crowded with my fellow skaters peeling off their costumes. As I eased out of mine, careful of Jasper’s painstaking needlework, several of the other women came over to congratulate me on the performance.

“I can’t wait to see what you and Jasper do at Nationals!” one of them, who I thought had placed toward the bottom of the pack, said with an eager smile.

I let out an awkward laugh, not used to having the attention focused on me. “Me too! Thank you.”

I threw on my old Metallica shirt and a pair of faded jeans, restraining a wince at the slightly sharper ache of my ribs when I raised my arms. I had pushed myself pretty hard in the last couple of weeks—it was definitely time for some resting before we honed our skills for Nationals.

After I tucked my costume into my equipment bag, pausing to brush my fingers over my lucky skate lace from my earliest childhood lessons, I raised my head and noticed a door off beyond a row of lockers along the wall. It was narrower than the main entrance and scuffed. Probably for maintenance or something.

But what caught my eye was the smear of red paint just above the handle.

My pulse hitched. I froze for a second, my gaze darting around the room, but none of the other skaters appeared to have noticed it, let alone started worrying about it. Several were already taking off through the main door, eager to get home after a long, stressful day.

But I knew Haggard had been here. He’d left that broken rose banner for me to see.

What was he playing at now?

Simply ignoring the sign didn’t feel like an option. I couldn’t turn my back on an enemy without figuring out his new game.

I hefted my equipment bag and walked casually over to the side door. Setting the heavy bag down on the nearest bench, I gave the door a gentle tug.

It wasn’t locked. When I peered out into the dim hall on the other side, a part of the arena that clearly wasn’t generally open to the public, the streak of paint continued along the wall farther than I could see.

A shiver ran down my back, and my teeth set on edge. I wasnotletting Haggard fuck up the best day of my life.

I also wasn’t going to throw caution to the wind. I pulled out my phone, tapped a hasty text to Rafael to let him know what I’d found and what I was doing, asking him to catch up with me as soon as he could.

I wasn’t sure how he’d get into this hall while avoiding the woman’s locker room, but this was Rafael. He’d find a way.

After putting my phone away, I reached for the knife in my other pocket. Holding it ready, I treaded slowly but steadily down the dim maintenance hall, following the trail of red paint. Splatters of it marked the floor as well, still gleaming wet.

A few other doors broke the sameness of the pale gray wall. I was just passing one when a hushed voice reached my ears, as if from someone standing right on the other side of it.

It was Quentin’s voice.

---