Fighting for the Edge (25 page)

I escaped to the upstairs lounge and took my bag of carrot sticks out of the fridge before joining Aubrey at one of the small tables.

“I haven’t apologized yet today for my big mouth,” she said, her voice raspy. “I’m so sorry you’re getting bombarded by the press.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. It probably would’ve come out some other way if you hadn’t said anything.” I watched her sip a cup of hot tea. “You sound worse today. Do you feel worse?”

She nodded and touched her palm to her forehead. “It’s like clockwork. Every year I get sick right after nationals.”

“You should ask Chris to make you his special cold remedy concoction.” I pointed a carrot stick at her. “It’s nasty to drink, but it’s got some killer vitamins in it.”

She huddled over her cup, breathing in the short wafts of steam. “I’m not asking Chris to do anything for me.”

“Are things that bad between you guys?”

“They’re not bad. They’re just… nonexistent. We’ve said about ten words to each other since we’ve been back.”

“That can’t be easy, living in the same house and barely speaking.”

“I’ve had a lot of experience watching my parents do it. It’s not as hard as it sounds.”

I frowned. “You’d become such good friends. There has to be some way you can get back to that.”

“Things are too weird now. We should’ve never crossed that line.” She sighed and rested her head on her fist. “It screwed everything up.”

I chewed slowly as I recalled my conversation with Chris on the bus. He didn’t think Aubrey took him seriously, but I could see the droop in her eyes as she talked about him. And it wasn’t just from not feeling well.

“Have you heard from Marley at all?” I asked.

“I’ve texted her a few times, but she hasn’t responded.”

“I wish there was something I could do. I hate seeing all my friends hurting.”

“You have enough to deal with right now without worrying about us.”

“That’s right,” Sergei said as he walked up to the table. “No thanks to your drunken outburst.”

“I apologized again to Em. I’m sorry I caused such a mess.” Aubrey pushed back her chair and stood with her tea. “I have to go find Nick. Em, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Feel better,” I called after her and then turned to Sergei as he sat in her chair. “She really is sorry for what she did.”

“She should be. Our baby shouldn’t be national news, but now it is.”

I plucked a carrot stick out of the bag and broke it in half. “That guy from Providence was really insistent about interviewing you. I didn’t think he’d let it go.”

“There’s no way I’m talking to any of them.”

“You’re afraid they’ll bring up what happened with you and Elena.”

Sergei rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want Liza getting pulled into this. With the issues she’s had at her rink recently, she doesn’t need this kind of attention on her.”

“I hope they wouldn’t dig that far and drag Liza into the story.”

“I don’t trust these people not to bring it up. They’ll look for any angle they can get.”

I pulled my phone from the pocket of my warm-up jacket and clicked to the calendar application. Scrolling through the rest of the week, I counted eight more appointments with three more tentative ones. I shook my head and slid the phone onto the table.

“I understand Jessie and Kristin’s strategy that we do all these interviews so it seems like my pregnancy is no big deal and I’m still just as prepared for the Olympics, but we can’t keep this up for the next three weeks. It’s just too much. Every interview stresses me out because I’m scared my words might get twisted around. Some of the stuff they’re asking is so personal…”

Sergei clasped my hand. “It won’t go on like this. I won’t allow it. You and Chris need time to prepare for Torino, and you need extra time to rest.”

“I never knew being pregnant would make me so tired. I’m kinda worried what the jet lag will do to me in Italy.”

“The good thing is you’ll have almost a week to get settled there before you have to compete. I’m telling Jessie and Kristin that you are not to be hounded by the media that week. Standard press conferences only.”

“I can talk to them about it.”

“No, I’ll handle it.” He sheltered my hand between both of his. “You should just concentrate on relaxing and keeping up your strength.”

I wasn’t surprised he insisted on taking care of it. He’d been doing that every chance he had lately. I loved Sergei from the depths of my soul, but if he was going to treat me like an incapable person for the duration of my pregnancy, I might strangle him.

****

Aubrey slowly opened her eyes and lifted her head from the smooth leather couch. She’d come home from the rink and hadn’t had the energy to climb the stairs to her bed, so she’d decided to lie on the couch and close her eyes for a few minutes. But darkness had replaced the daylight previously streaming through the windows, and she was now covered with a blanket. From the kitchen came the whirr of the blender.

She took her time standing and then wobbled her way through the living room. Every inch of her body ached, and chills waved through her. In the kitchen, Chris stood next to the counter, watching the blender. A thick green liquid spun inside. He spotted her in the doorway and shut off the machine.

“Did I wake you?”

“How long was I asleep?” she croaked.

“A few hours. I was making something for you to drink when you got up.”

She stared at him. Were they friends again? Everything had been so awkward the past few days that she didn’t think they could return to normal. It was still deeply painful to be around him, but it hurt even more not having his friendship.

She stepped toward the counter and peered at the blender. “Is this your cold remedy concoction?”

“It’s all natural and proven to be highly effective.” He gave the mixture one more whirl. “You’ll feel much better if you drink this.”

“It looks like the Incredible Hulk’s blood.”

He laughed, and she smiled a little. She’d missed that infectious laugh.

He poured half of the contents into a tall glass and held it out to her. “Close your eyes if you have to.”

She shook her head, and it throbbed in response. “No way.”

She went back into the living room and curled up in the corner of the sofa. Chris followed with the concoction and sat on the other end. He brought one leg up onto the cushion and spread his arm across the back of the couch.

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” he said.

She eyed the drink warily. “You shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of making it. I can get better the old-fashioned way – OJ and chicken soup.”

“It wasn’t any trouble. You looked like you could barely make it around the rink today, so I figured you could use some help.”

There he was, being the nice guy again. At least now she knew not to confuse his gestures as being anything more than friendly.

“You ‘re not gonna leave me alone until I drink it, are you?”

One side of his mouth twitched upward as he extended the glass to her. She scrunched up her nose and reached for the drink. Her fingers brushed Chris’s, and the brief tingle made her grab the glass too quickly, almost sloshing green goo over the rim.

“Whoa, got it?” Chris smiled.

She clutched the glass with both hands and brought it under her nose, holding her breath as she cautiously sipped. The thick mixture sat in her mouth, tasting viler than any medicine she’d ever taken. She forced herself to swallow without gagging.

“It tastes like… grass and feet!”

Chris laughed. “I’m not sure how you know what those two things taste like, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“I can’t drink this.” She stuck out her tongue.

“You have to chug it, not sip it. Take it down fast.”

She raised the glass to her lips and took a bigger gulp, squeezing her eyes shut as the liquid slimed down her throat.

“That’s better,” Chris said. “A few more like that.”

Her phone rang with “Mamma Mia” on the coffee table, and she leaned forward and pressed the button to send the call to voicemail. She felt sick enough without listening to her mom rationalize staying married to her dad.

“Did something happen with your mom at nationals?” Chris asked.

Even with all the weirdness they’d been through, she still sensed deep down that she could trust him as a friend, and he was the only person who knew all her family drama. She found herself slipping back into the familiar comfort she’d once had with him.

“She admitted my dad’s been cheating on her, and then she tried to make excuses for him.”

“Oh, man. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, last week sucked six ways from Sunday.” She drank more of the nasty goop and made a face.

“I’d say something encouraging, but Mr. Brightside doesn’t wanna get yelled at again.” He gave her a knowing smile.

She lowered her head and shielded her eyes. “I don’t know half of what I was saying that night.”

“There was some fascinating stuff.”

She unfortunately remembered the rambling she’d done when he’d walked her to her door. Afraid he might bring up that moment, she drained the glass and set it on the table. “I expect to be fully cured when I wake up in the morning.”

Picking up her phone, she unfolded her achy joints and headed for the stairs. “Have a good night.”

“You, too. I promise you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

She paused and started to turn around but thought better of it. Seeing the softness in his eyes that she heard in his voice would just tear away another piece of her heart. If only there was a disgusting green potion she could drink to make her feelings for Chris disappear. She’d chug it down in one gulp.

After a hot shower with lots of steam to clear her chest, she crawled into bed and burrowed under the two layers of blankets. The chills had become worse after departing the warmth of the bathroom. She thought about putting a long-sleeved T-shirt over her tank top, but she was too cold to leave the blankets.

Beside her bed sat Frosty the stuffed snowman, his fluffy white fur looking very warm and cozy. She reached over and pulled him under the covers with her, wrapping her arms around him. Her eyelids sagged, and darkness slowly took over.

When she next opened her eyes, she jumped at the sight of a figure sitting on the bed. Once her vision adjusted, she saw the figure was Chris… wearing nothing but his boxers… the plaid ones she’d seen in his laundry once.

He peeled back the blankets and removed Frosty from her grasp. Taking the snowman’s spot himself, he hugged her close to him. “I thought I could keep you warm instead.”

What?
Had there been something in the drink that was making her hallucinate? She had no idea what was happening, but she’d never experienced a more electrifying feeling in her life. The chills and aches had completely vanished. All she felt was Chris’s strong arms around her, the smooth skin of his chest under her palms, the long, hard length of his body pressed against hers.

He tilted her chin up, and his breath heated her lips. “I need to tell you something.”

His mouth drew nearer, the tip of his nose brushing hers. The hammering of her heart vibrated down to her toes.

“I need you to know how I feel,” he said, rubbing his hand over her bare shoulder and down her back.

Her entire body trembled with anticipation. She was too overwhelmed with shock and the sensory overload of being in Chris’s arms to find any words. Her eyes strained in the dark to see his, to find the tender look she knew was there.

“Aubrey, I…” He paused, and she pressed her fingertips into his chest.

“Yes?” she whispered.

He licked his lips and pulled her closer. “I want–”

Her body jerked, and her eyes flew open. Blackness surrounded her. Sweat caked her face and neck. And nestled against her was the stuffed snowman. Not Chris.

She threw the blankets aside and inhaled deep breaths. Her heart apparently didn’t know the difference between dreams and reality because it was beating in double time. She couldn’t blame it, though. All the sensations – the warmth of Chris’s touch, the clean scent of his skin, his husky voice – they’d seemed so real. Torturously real. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she flung the snowman onto the floor.

Talking to Chris earlier had messed with her head. They couldn’t be buddies. Not as long as this agonizing desire to be with him haunted her.

Chapter Twenty-One

Outside the window of Sergei’s SUV, row after row of charming Victorian homes rolled past. It was one of those beautiful clear winter days on Martha’s Vineyard when the sky gleamed crystal blue. Everything in Edgartown sparkled under the brilliant sunshine.

“Escaping for the weekend was the best idea ever,” I said to Sergei in the driver’s seat.

He smiled. “I know how much you love it here.”

“It always feels like the rest of the world is so far away when I’m here.”

“That’s exactly why I thought it was the perfect time to come.”

I couldn’t agree more. After the week full of interviews, photo shoots, and conference calls, there was no better way to unwind. I had so many great memories of the island from spending childhood summers at Aunt Debbie and Uncle Joe’s vacation home in Chilmark. I also had some pretty awesome recent memories like Sergei’s and my first kiss at the clay cliffs in Aquinnah.

“If we move to Boston permanently, it’ll be a longer trip whenever we want to come out here,” I said.

“That’s one for the cons column on our pros and cons list,” Sergei said.

“We don’t have to give the club a decision until after the Olympics, right?”

“Yeah, I told them we needed time.”

I shifted in the smooth leather seat so I was angled toward Sergei. “It would be great to be closer to my family, but then there’s the danger of them dropping in at any time.”

“Your mom coming by unannounced? Never!” He laughed.

Sergei’s cell phone rang in the cup holder between our seats, but he kept his focus on the winding road. “Can you grab it?”

I answered and Elena asked, “Where is Sergei?”

“He’s right here, but he’s driving.”