Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (98)

Sage singes the ends of the ribbons on her pointe shoes with the flame while mumbling something to herself.

“Starting another fire?” I ask.

Sage startles. She rolls her eyes and chucks one of her shoes at me. I catch it before joining her on the floor.

Watching me, she finally laughs, and I realize I’ve missed the sound. She’s been so in her head about her big performance that we haven’t been able to just relax.

“Did you sleep?” I ask. My nightmares have been less intense, and I owe it to Sage. But I know her insomnia isn’t getting better with the stress from rehearsals. The tired creases under her eyes confirm that much.

“I feel rested. But I probably shouldn’t have gotten used to sleeping with you,” she says.

I don’t like that. The long distance is inevitable for us, but its reminder isn’t welcome. “It’s only for a year.”

She glances at me. “But after that I’ll have other productions. The schedule is relentless.”

I give her the pointe shoe, brushing my hand over hers. “We’ll figure it out.”

Sage focuses on cutting the ribbons on her other shoe, singing off the ends. She doesn’t speak for a long time, and then she sighs. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

Her words crash in my ears, and I don’t know if I heard her correctly. “Do what?”

“The production.”

My head rears in shock. Those words never would have come out of her mouth a month ago. I fucked up by letting her get lost in this world. She needs to find a balance. It’s the first thing we learn in hockey.

“What are you saying?”

“My whole life, I’ve been running. From people, from my past, and from my reality.” Her voice is shaking. “But now, with you, I don’t feel the need to run. I’m okay with staying right where I am. I think I wanted to join the NBT because it gave me another reason to keep running. I’m chasing this perfect version of myself, and it feels like I have been for years.”

This isn’t the reason she gave me on our first date, and I know that one was the truth. It’s the one thing that’s given her purpose. You don’t give up on that because of one setback.

“You were never meant to keep running, Sage. You were meant to grow, and you have. The Sage who told me her goal was to become as good as Misty Copeland isn’t the same Sage saying she’ll let go of her dream because of one bad day.”

“But it’s not just one bad day,” she argues. “That Sage didn’t see her entire career flash before her eyes when she almost injured her ankle during a rehearsal for the biggest show in her career. My scene partner dropped me for the first time, and I think it was on purpose. I know they don’t want me there and they’re hoping I crumble under the pressure. I’m risking everything to be the principal ballerina, but it’s like there’s a target on my back.”

“What do you mean he dropped you on purpose?” Disbelief runs a line of fire down my back. After I picked up a limping Sage from her last rehearsal, I was worried. It took some icing and rest, and some self-care nights to help the soreness. Knowing someone may have dropped her on purpose lights a rage inside me. “We have to talk to the director. That’s unacceptable.”

She dismisses the notion. “That’s not how it works. I’m not going to accuse them of something without any proof. I’ve been training for weeks, and something always goes wrong. Zimmerman can see that, and he doesn’t accept anything but the best.”

Slowly, the real reason behind her decision becomes clear. She’s never wanted to quit, she’s just afraid she won’t be good enough. “They’re not going to give up on you, Sage.”

She drops her shoes and stands to walk over to the window. “What if they already have?” she whispers.

I follow her. “Did the league give up on me?”

“No, but that’s because you proved yourself.”

“And you don’t think you can do the same?” She doesn’t answer, so I push. “Did you believe in me, Sage?”

This time she turns with a new fire in her. “I’ve always believed in you.”

“And did you wait for me?”

She stares at the floor and murmurs, “Very patiently.”

I hold her waist and press a light kiss to her temple. “So patiently. And look where that got us.”

“In a great roommate arrangement?”

When I nip her ear she chuckles. “It got us something we never thought we’d have.”

I reach for her hand, flipping it over to kiss the inside of her wrist. Her pulse gives away her feelings. I linger—one, two, three kisses in a row.

“If anyone gets it, it’s me. You don’t have to pretend that you’re okay, but I’ll never let you doubt yourself. There’s nothing that can dim your light, and if you think there is, I’d crush it before it ever touched you.”

She turns in my arms to face me. “But I’m serious about not running anymore, Elias. I want to stay with you, and with Sean. I don’t need any of that other stuff.”

I caress the smoothness of her cheek with my palm. “That’s the thing about having your people. We’ll always be right where you left us. Still loving you, and still cheering you on.”