Page 17 of Your Sharpest Edge
Suddenly, his hand came to my wrist, pulling me back down and forcing me to slam back on my feet. I stumbled backward.
“What is this?” he demanded, his eyes fixated on something on my back.
Fuck. My bruise from Dimitri.
I needed to defuse the situation. This was my husband’s teammate. I couldn’t get Dimitri in trouble because then he’d divorce me. I was so close to finding a new partner, and I couldn’t let it all go now.
“I tripped,” I responded, the lie slipping easily off my tongue.
“On what? A fucking refrigerator?”
I narrowed my eyes at his question.
I twisted so his hands let go of my hoodie and then pulled it down, concealing the bruise again.
“What? Maybe.” I balked. “I just fell. It’s really no big deal.”
I shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, but inwardly, I was in full panic mode. If Alex said anything, then Dimitri would get in trouble with work, and this would only get worse for me. I really needed a friend after Dimitri took Layla away from me and limited my phone access. I yearned for a soft moment with someone, like when we sat and watched a movie together.
“I know he has a temper,” Alex added as if testing me to tell him something other than the refrigerator. He brought his hands toward me. “Let me see that again. I can see if you need a doctor...”
“Stop.” I pushed him away. “Seriously.”
“It’s him, isn’t it?” he demanded, taking a step away from me, giving me space.
“Why would you assume that? I’m clumsy.”
“I-I’ve seen it before. I know. I...” Alex shook his head.
“I’m fine, Alex,” I said, trying not to lie to him. I needed to change the subject. I didn’t want this taken away from me. “Who’s to say it wasn’t from practice?”
“I thought it was from a refrigerator?” He narrowed his eyes at me as he caught me in the lie.
“It was,” I snapped. “But I’m an ice-skater, Alex. It could’ve happened from that, too.”
“I can get Coach invol—” he started to say, but I took three steps backward, feeling the bile rising in my throat.
“No,” I screeched. “Please don’t,” I said softer.
That would make things worse—so much worse, and he had no idea.
“He won’t know. If he did this?—”
“Please stop.” I held up my hand, feeling backed into the corner as my back smushed against the edge of the wall. “Please,” I begged.
His chest rose and fell rapidly, the pulse in his neck quickening. I wanted to reassure him that I was okay and capable of handling this.
“Tell me why you don’t want to. Let me understand your reasoning.”
I thought about walking away from this guy. I didn’t know him, nor did I owe him an explanation for anything. I didn’tneed to tell him that I didn’t know how to leave or how to disappoint my parents.
But I craved friendship. I was so alone, and somehow, being here was the first time I didn’t feel so isolated in my thoughts, in my world. Alex’s presence provided a warmth I hadn’t realized I was missing.
“I have expectations,” I said, fumbling with my cuticles, slowly ripping them apart. “My parents expect me?—”
“Fuck them. If you’re getting hurt, then you need to make this stop.” He walked toward me.
“I promise,” I whispered. “It’s from the refrigerator.”
