Page 114 of Fly Boy
Evan’s nose scrunches up. “And that’s bad because?”
“My dad fired him.”
“Because you’re together?” he asks, eyes wide.
“Because I told him to use the jet to come see me, to be with me, and my dad found out. And like a dumbass, he didn’t say it was my fault. Oh no, instead, he had to act all chivalrous and let Dad think it was his fault.” I lean my forehead against Evan’s chest. “You should have seen my dad’s face when I told him it was me, that I’ve been in an illicit relationship with a man he’d hired to chauffer me around.”
“Pippa,” he whispers, cuddling me against him. “At least Mr. Sexy Pilot Man loves you, right?”
“Yes, but I’ve barely spoken to him since Friday night.” My lower lip trembles like I’m going to cry. I look up to the ceiling, blinking heavily, willing myself not to. “The last couple of days, all I’ve had were texts wishing me good luck.”
“Babe,” is all Evan says back, the word filled with so much regret. But it’s his lack of advice that makes me feel worse.
“What a lovely opening with their combination spin. Perfectly executed from the get-go.”
“Absolutely. Evan’s form is solid, but Pippa showed slight hesitation on the exit. They’re still very much in sync, though, so it shouldn’t be too… Oh, a bit of a wobble from Pippa there on the landing out of the side-by-side triple lutz.”
“What a pity, Luke. We’re just not used to seeing this type of lapse in concentration from her, not compared to the rest of the season anyway.”
“It has the potential to impact their technical score, but they’re still going strong. Not letting it affect them.”
“And now onto the throw triple loop, a move they perfected at the U.S. Championships. Can they…? They have, and Pippa lands with no signs of that distraction.”
“Jessica, their throw jumps have certainly been the highlight of their routine for me.”
“One hundred percent, and it looks like whatever had spooked Pippa earlier has disappeared as they move into the lift elements of the routine. Something they, fingers crossed, will have no issues with.”
“The strength Evan exudes in this lift is incredible. Watch as he lifts Pippa effortlessly, the way she holds that starfish pose with perfect precision. The stories these two tell with their bodies, the more they’re practiced and the more we’ve seen, you can really understand the emotions they're conveying.”
“Something’s wrong as Evan lowers Pippa to the ground. Is she…? Luke, I think she might be crying.”
“I’m sorry,” I mouth, a rogue tear falling down my cheek. That motherfucking lift. The one I’ve done flawlessly for months. Why did I have to associate it withhim?Why can’t I stay out of my head? Why didn’t I tell him I loved him too?
“Babe, breathe, we’re almost done,” Evan reassures me as we head into our final move. We execute it flawlessly, and the roar of the crowd is deafening, but I can barely hear them as Evan holds me, my head tucked into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I cry, my body trembling as I sob. “I’m so sorry.”
“You were great, Pippa,” he soothes. “Please believe me, you were amazing.” He kisses my temple as the audience continues to clap. “Come on, we need to get off the ice.” Pulling back, he quickly swipes a finger under my eyes and wraps an arm around my waist.
He smiles wide, his showman persona in overdrive as he waves to the rows upon rows of spectators, skating toward the edge of the ice.
“I am immune to negative thoughts.”
“I am immune to negative energy.”
Someone knocks on my hotel room door. I crack an eye open before wriggling on the spot and sitting straighter in the middle of the bed.
“I am strong and capable.”
It sounds again, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block outside distractions. This is what I get for letting my headphones die.
“I can overcome any challenges in my path.”
“Pippa?”
I groan, smacking my hand on the mattress and glaring at the door.
Shuffling off the bed, I stomp over, grumbling loudly, “Five minutes. That’s all I wanted. Five minutes alone so I could—” My words die as I stare at the man standing in the hallway, a sleek black duffle bag propped over one shoulder. “Wyatt.”
