Page 30 of Puck Me Thrice
The message went on, detailing numbers that made my stomach clench. They were trying to sound upbeat, reassuring, but I could read between the lines. Money was already tight. This was going to bury them.
The unspoken message was clear: they were counting on me. On my future skating success. On the Olympic dreams that would lead to sponsorships and ice show contracts and all the financial stability they'd sacrificed to give me.
Except I wasn't competing anymore. And I had no idea when—or if—I would again.
I sat at the kitchen table, laptop open to my parents' medical bills, and tried to do math that wouldn't work. My stipend covered rent and food and not much else. I had some savings, but not nearly enough. I could pick up extra shifts, maybe find another part-time job, but even that wouldn't—
A sob escaped before I could stop it, and then another, and suddenly I was crying over my keyboard, all the pressure and fear and guilt pouring out in a way I hadn't let myself feel since the injury.
"Mira?"
I looked up to find Nolan in the doorway, his hair disheveled from sleep, concern written across his face.
"Sorry," I gasped, trying to wipe my face. "I'm fine. Just—"
He was across the room in three strides, kneeling beside my chair. "You're crying. You're not fine." His eyes flicked to my laptop screen, taking in the medical bills. "What happened?"
"My parents were in a car accident. They're okay, but..." I gestured helplessly at the numbers. "They've already sacrificed so much for my skating. And now I can't even—" Another sob cut me off.
"How much do you need?" Nolan asked immediately.
"What? No. I'm not—"
"Mira, how much?"
"I'm not taking money from you."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not being indebted to anyone ever again." The words came out sharper than I intended. "Sam used to help with expenses. Training costs, costume fees, travel. And he held it over my head every single time we disagreed about something. I won't do that again."
Nolan's expression darkened. "I'm not Sam."
"I know that. But I also know how these things work. Today it's a loan, tomorrow it's 'remember when I helped you,' and eventually—"
"Stop." His voice was gentle but firm. "I have a signing bonus from draft prospects. This amount?" He gestured at the screen. "It's not even a rounding error for me. And I'm notoffering it as a loan or an investment or anything that comes with strings. I'm offering it because you're our teammate and our friend and because I can help."
"I can't."
"Then let me pay it anonymously. Your parents never have to know it came from me. Please, Mira. Let me do this."
"I just can’t," I said finally. "But thank you. Really."
Coach Williams found me later that morning, after practice, looking harried.
"Mira, I need a favor. The athletic department is pushing for more team-building activities. Something about 'cross-sport collaboration.'" He said it like it personally pained him. "I need you to coordinate something. Anything. Just make it look good for the administration."
An idea hit me. A terrible, potentially brilliant idea.
"What if the hockey team attended a figure skating exhibition?" I asked slowly. "There's one at the campus rink in two weeks. We could get team tickets, maybe have the guys try some basic skating afterward. Cross-sport collaboration, athletic appreciation, all that."
Coach's face lit up. "Perfect. Make it happen."
I didn't tell him I was planning to perform in that exhibition. Or that I'd been secretly preparing a solo routine for the past month. Or that I was about to do something completely insane.
Two weeks later, I stood backstage at the campus rink, wearing a costume I'd borrowed from Kate and altered to fit. It was black, daring, cut to show the athletic body I usually hid under baggy practice clothes. My hair was pulled back in asevere bun, my makeup dramatic in a way I'd never attempted during competitions with Sam.
This routine was mine. Every element chosen because I wanted to attempt it, not because it served the pairs choreography. Jumps Sam had never let me try because they were "too risky" or "didn't suit the partnership."
