Page 13 of Interference
Her chin dips once. “Okay. I don’t like it, but I understand. Children are a beautiful thing.”
Internally, I scoff. I would have never known she felt that way by her reaction.
“I need to know what you plan to do,” she continues.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
I already told her I plan on going through with the pregnancy and keeping the baby. What else could she mean? It’s over. That’s it.
“Are your Olympic dreams over, or do you plan on coming back as soon as you are cleared?” She drums her fingers on her desk. “Are you prepared for more sleep deprivation and your body working against you? You’ll be able to work out whilepregnant for a while, but when you get back on the ice, it will feel like you are starting from scratch. Are you prepared for that?”
I’m shocked.
“I can still compete?” I ask.
She nods. “Yes. It is possible if you are willing to put in the work. Are you?”
“Yes,” I tell her with no hesitation.
I have no idea how I will do it, but I will. I need to. I can’t let this dream fade. I’ve wanted it my entire life.
She smiles. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I chew my bottom lip. “Do you think I can do it?”
Irina studies me for a moment before she dips her chin again. “Yes. You are one of the most dedicated skaters I’ve ever seen. You have a hunger for it that most don’t. I believe if anyone can do this, it would be you.”
“Thank you,” I tell her quietly.
“You realize we need to tell your coaches, yes?” Her hand reaches toward the phone.
“Can’t you do it for me?” I joke.
“How about we do it together?” she compromises.
That’s a shock on its own. Irina is usually all about making you do the hard stuff yourself. I’ll take whatever I can get from her.
I nod as she picks up the phone. As she makes the call, my legs begin to bounce. Before I know it, the coaching staff walks in.
“What is this?” Coach asks.
Irina looks at me before she looks at him. “Emery can no longer compete. She’s with child.”
All at once, the coaching staff explodes. Their angry and disappointed gazes drill into me, making my skin crawl.
Without thinking about it, I jump up and push my way out of the room, rushing down the hall.
I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here.
“Emery,” someone yells, but I don’t stop.
Someone grabs my arm, jerking me to a stop.
“Emery, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Brett demands.
