Page 85 of Facing Off
“They won’t pick you if you still have the yips.”
I feel myself flinch.
Hughes also flinches. “Fuck. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I meant to say, perfectionism makes the yips worse, right?”
“So, what? What do you expect me to do in the meantime?” My arms cross, and I’m shaking my head.
Before he can answer, his phone buzzes. A few times. I tell him to answer it. Hughes takes it out, looks at the screen and pales.
I’m moving and now my hand is on his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Jung. The rookie our GM wants to trade.. I have to find him. I know where he’s going next.”
“Where?”
“Oslo.”
“The World Hockey Championship,” I realize.
“Coach Forrester wants him to come home as soon as possible. We need to figure out how to help him stay with the Wings.”
“Okay, call him. Tell him all that.”
“I can’t. His phone broke or something. And the only way I know he’s going to Oslo is because Quinn got ahold of his roommate, but they’ve split up since. They’re not together anymore.Shit. I can’t ask Quinn or anyone else here to look for him either. They need to focus on winning.”
He’s running a jerky hand through his hair, and his brow is crumpled.
Hughes is actually stressed.
This stifling sense of dread gathers inside me.
We have our deal, about scales balancing for all the help I’ve gotten for my ballet. I haven’t forgotten about that. And there’s the fact that he’s right about me overworking myself when I was told explicitly not to dance for the next three days. Before Hughes came into the gym, my performance was awful. Practicing more isn’t working. It’s making it so much worse. It seems like I have no choice but to wait for Team Nutcracker’s solutions.
I wish I could say that’s why I offer what I’m about to, but those are flimsy justifications. Right now, what matters—allthat matters—is the misery etched in his expression. It doesn’t belong there. Not at all. I never want to see it again.
That’s why I put a hand on his arm.
“Okay, let’s go find Jung. Let’s go to Oslo.”
33
SONYA
Everything happens so quickly,I don’t have time to second-guess it. In the lobby of my building, my doorman Farim helps me with my luggage. I promise him a burrito when I get back. He tells me to take my time, since he can’t remember the last time I’ve taken a vacation.
“It’s not a vacation, Farim. I’m not going to have any fun. It’s about—”Balancing scales while taking a forced break from ballet because I’m backed into a corner and have no other choice…and also, maybe, sort of the sight of Hughes’ misery blindsided and gutted me, and in that moment, I’d thought to myself I’d do anything to help him feel better.Even if it means traveling internationally as if it’s no big deal, even though it’s a really big fucking deal.
I clear my throat. “Business,” I tell Farim, frowning. “It’s just business.”
My doorman snorts and gestures at the sleek stretch limo waiting outside to pick me up. “Try not to hate it too much.”
Hughes has booked a private jet to take us to Oslo. Since he’s busy finalizing last-minute arrangements, I don’t see him until I’ve already boarded and am buckled in my seat. How does he make an entrance?
The plane’s overhead speakers play the song, “Eye of the Tiger”.
Velvet curtains at the front of the plane swish apart and in strides a menace who has reverted back to his usual carefree self, sleeves rolled up and wearing a fitted blue sweater that matches the color of his eyes. A thick watch gleams on his wrist. But that’s not all that’s thick. When Hughes plops into the seat directly across from mine, his thighs take up a lot of surface area.
He rests his chin on his hands and grins. “Hey, Sonya! Fancy seeing you here.”
