“Well, too fucking bad,” Ivan replied a moment before the hands on my shoulders started to shift, to slide, going across my upper chest, right beneath my collarbones until his forearms were crossed over me in an X, and then Ivan was pulling me back—stumbling me back—until my upper back hit his chest, flesh to flesh.
And he hugged me. He hugged me so tight to him I couldn’t breathe, and I hated myself. I hated myself for being a hypocrite. For not being nicer. For expecting the worst all the time. I hated myself for so many things, I wasn’t sure I could count them all and survive.
And the arms around me somehow got even tighter, until every bone in my spine was curved into every bone in his upper body.
“You’re the best figure skater I’ve ever seen,” this man whispered directly into my ear, his hold the strongest thing I had ever felt in my life. “You are. The most athletic. The strongest. The toughest. The hardest working—”
I leaned forward to get away from him because I didn’t want to hear this shit… but didn’t go anywhere. “You know none of that fucking matters, Ivan. None of it means anything if you don’t win.”
“Jasmine—”
Dropping my head forward, I squeezed my eyes even tighter because the burning in them only got worse. “You don’t get it, Ivan. How could you? You don’t lose. Everyone knows you’re the best. Everyone loves you,” I croaked out, not able to finish the words, not able to say and no one loves me the same except the people I’ve let down over and over again.
Warmth hit my cheek at the same time the arms around me swarmed me. Ivan whispered, his lips against my earlobe, “You’re going to win. We’re going to win—”
I choked.
“—and even if we don’t, you’re as far away from being a loser as anybody can get, so shut up. I’m sure your mom doesn’t feel like it was worth nothing. I’ve seen her watching you before. I’ve seen you before. There’s no way anyone would see you on the ice and think there was a price limit on it,” he suggested.
I squeezed my eyes closed and held back the next choke crawling up my throat, and I felt like I was dying all over again. “Ivan…”
“Don’t ‘Ivan’ me. We’re going to win,” he whispered into my ear. “Don’t give me this bullshit about you being a loser either. I don’t win every time. Nobody does. And yeah, it isn’t fun, but only a quitter says things like that. A quitter gives up and really does make that kind of statement come true. You’re only a loser if you give up. Are you a quitter now? After everything? After all those broken bones and falls, you’re going to quit now?”
I didn’t say anything.
“You giving up, Meatball?” he asked, rocking me back into him.
I said nothing.
“These young girls quit right after they win gold medals because they’re scared of losing after that. You say nobody remembers second place, but no one remembers the girls that win once and disappear afterward either. The girl I know, the Jasmine I know, isn’t scared of shit. She doesn’t give up, and that’s the girl people will always remember. The one who is there time after time. You’d win and keep trying to win afterward. That’s the girl I know. The one I partnered up with. The one I think is the best—and you better not ever ask me to repeat that because I won’t. I don’t know what happened to you earlier, but whatever it was, you need to move past it. You need to remember what you’re capable of. What you are. You make every sacrifice worth it. You make every penny worth it. Do you understand me?”
Understand him?
“Just let me go,” I croaked. “Please.” Please. Please. Out of my mouth. Jesus Christ.
He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. “Do you understand me?”
I dipped my chin and kept my mouth closed, my organs burning up and melting.
Ivan’s sigh went over my ear, and he squeezed me in that hug I hadn’t wanted but didn’t want to leave now. “Jasmine, you’re not a loser.” What had to be his chin touched my ear because it prickled. “Not years ago, not last week, not today, not tomorrow. Not ever. Winning isn’t everything.”
The snort out of me burned. It was so easy for him to say that. To think it.
And in that Ivan way, he knew what I was thinking because he said, “Some of the unhappiest times in my life have been after big wins. Your family loves you. All they want is for you to be happy.”
“I know that,” I whispered, hating how weak I sounded, but not able to do anything to change it.
I was miserable. More miserable than even after Paul left. More miserable than maybe after I realized my dad was moving away.
“You and me will give them that. Understand me?”
A sob tried to crawl out of my throat, but I kept it in, and I buried it. Buried it so deep I wasn’t going to risk ruining this chance by replying. Because this was enough. This was too much.
And I was miserable.
“That night I had dinner at your house, the second thing your mom said to me was, I can make things look like an accident,” he murmured, and I froze. “When I was leaving that night, your brother’s husband told me that you’re like his little sister and that he hoped I’d treat you with the same respect I would treat my little sister. And your sister Ruby randomly whispered that her husband was in the army for over ten years. I think she meant it as a threat.
“And both your brother and your sister said that you have experience digging holes to put bodies into,” he finished, his voice still gentle. “They sounded proud of it. Real proud of it, Jasmine.”
I blinked, and then I blinked some more. This… something, just barely replacing the burn going on inside of me. Not much, but it was enough for the weight on my chest to lift just enough for me to feel like maybe I could breathe again sometime soon. Maybe in a year. Maybe in two. Because that was my family.
And Ivan’s next words wrecked some more of that feeling eating me up slowly.
“They understand, Jasmine,” he kept going. “How can you think you haven’t done anything when they care about you so much? They admire you. They were bragging about how tough you are. How resilient you are. There are girls at the rink who light up every single time you walk by. You’ve probably changed their lives and inspired them by showing up here day after day, staying true to yourself, not letting anybody talk you out of anything. Not even me. I don’t know what you consider a loser, but those aren’t the kind of traits that come to my mind when I think of with that word.”
I ducked my head and bit my lip, my words lost, my mind too slow to process everything.
And then he finished me off.
“You and me, Meatball. We’re going to win if that’s what you need. Understand me?”
Chapter 12
“I think we’re done for the day,” Coach Lee called out from her spot a couple feet away from where I’d landed after a throw.
Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to keep from panting after a practice that had made me sweat so much the L and R on my hands had started to fade, I nodded. It was time. I was tired, and I knew Ivan was too. I’d felt how deep into his reserves he’d had to dig to throw me that last time.
Plus, it didn’t help that I’d slept like shit. It also didn’t help that we’d been so busy at the diner that morning that I hadn’t gotten a chance to even take a break. I’d overdone it the night before. Inside and outside, and my body hadn’t forgiven me for not treating it as well as I usually did.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about my choices—about what I wanted to do and needed to do—and… if I was going to be honest with myself, I’d thought more about Ivan’s kindness than I would have ever expected. He’d probably hugged me for ten minutes straight as I’d calmed down and slowly, in tiny bits and pieces, gotten grounded.
He hadn’t asked what upset me. He hadn’t teased me for it. At some point, he had just let me go while I finished drinking my hot cocoa and then taken the cup from me to wash and set beside the sink. Then he’d followed me to the empty changing room, waited for me to grab my things…