The Favorites: A Novel(112)

“Your back?” I said.

He nodded. I stood on my knees and gestured for him to sit up.

“You don’t have to—” he started.

“I want to.” I smoothed my palm over his trap and dug my thumb under his scapula. “Unless you don’t think you can take it?”

Heath smiled. “Do your worst.”

For the next twenty minutes, I worked my way through every major muscle in his back. He melted under my touch, eventually stretching out flat on his stomach so I could get more leverage. I straddled his legs and ground my knuckles into his lumbar spine until he groaned.

“You are evil,” he mumbled into the pillows.

“Oh, come on. You’ve had worse.”

I was only teasing. But with my fingers brushing his scarred skin, it didn’t seem so funny.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Heath flipped over underneath me. “For what?”

“That you had to go through…everything you went through. That I wasn’t—”

“Like you said.” His voice rumbled against my bare thighs. “I’ve had worse.”

“Still.” The belt of my robe was starting to come undone. Heath’s towel had slipped too, exposing his hip bones. “No one deserves—well, whatever the hell Veronika did to you.”

“It wasn’t Veronika.”

I froze.

“She never touched me,” he continued. “Although she did scream a lot, whenever we did something wrong in practice. She said it was so we wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.”

My hands had come to rest on Heath’s chest. His fingertips skimmed the hem of my robe.

“If it wasn’t Veronika,” I said. “Then who—”

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. We both turned to look.

Bella Lin’s smiling face lit up the screen.





Chapter 78





“Is everything okay?” Bella said as soon as I picked up the Skype call. “You didn’t contact me after the short, and I—”

She stopped, taking in the scene on her phone screen: my flushed cheeks and messy hair, Heath’s bare chest, the different decor behind us. The Civil Wars in the background, crooning mournfully about the one that got away.

“Where are you two?”

“Ellis gave us his hotel suite for the night,” I explained.

“Ellis Dean?”

We gave her a rundown of our eventful evening. The tampering with our skates had been mentioned on the broadcast, accompanied by backstage footage of me flipping my shit at the Russian team—though Kirk had shied away from outright accusing them of sabotage on air. But this was the first Bella was hearing about the hotel room break-ins, my ruined dress, or the dismissive response from Sochi law enforcement. Guess Ellis was too busy enjoying that nightcap to get a new Kiss & Cry post written.

“What are you going to wear tomorrow?” Bella asked.

“My short dance dress again, I guess.” The bright colors clashed with the character of our free program, but it was my only option unless I wanted to compete in the Olympic final in my warm-up gear.

Bella never once questioned whether we would take the ice for the free dance. We were Shaw and Rocha. Swollen feet and bad backs and bloody dresses weren’t anywhere near enough to scare us away.

“How are you feeling?” Heath asked. I opened my mouth to answer him—then realized he was addressing Bella.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Garrett’s taking good care of me.”

Garrett popped into view behind her, holding a mixing bowl. He waved to us with the pancake batter–covered spatula.

Bella shot her brother a look. “Maybe too good.”

“You’re welcome.” Garrett kissed the top of her head and looked down at the phone. “Good luck tomorrow, guys! Show those Russians who the real champs are.”

“Try and get some rest,” Bella said. “And until we know for sure who’s behind all this: don’t trust anyone.”

Heath and I nodded. The screen went dark. We were alone again in the bed, sitting even closer since we’d had to squeeze together to both fit in the video frame.

I shifted away from him, clearing my throat. “She’s right. We should get some rest.”

We took turns in the bathroom, changing into proper pajamas and brushing our teeth.

“You want another one before bed?” Heath asked, shaking the orange painkiller bottle. “I swear these don’t do a damn thing for me anymore. I took three, and I can’t feel a thing.”

“I’m good.” The pills hadn’t made much difference in my pain level either, and my makeshift ice pack was melting. I dabbed some more disinfectant on, then climbed into bed.

Heath switched off the lights and joined me; this time he kept a respectful distance. I spent a few minutes arranging pillows to elevate my foot before flopping back beside him.

“Aren’t we a pair?” I said.

“A couple of geriatric has-beens, hanging on by a thread.”

“Hey now, we would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the fucking Volkovas.”

Heath went quiet for a moment. “You’re sure it’s them?”

“Of course it’s them.” I turned to face him. “Who else would it be?”