Playing To Win || paused might be continued soon ||

chapter nineteen

The sun was setting by the time I made it back to my apartment. My head was still buzzing from the conversation with Landon earlier. His words kept replaying in my mind, like an annoying song stuck on repeat.

"I'm not going to stand by and watch you get hurt."

It wasn't the first time he'd said something like that, but today, it felt different. More loaded. Like there was something he wasn't saying—something neither of us was ready to admit.

I shook off the thought, focusing instead on the fact that I had a mountain of schoolwork to get through. I didn't have time for Landon Kingston's mind games. Yet, somehow, he was taking up space in my head more than anything else.

Ava and Sienna were planning another night out—this time something more low-key, just the girls at a quieter bar downtown. I declined their offer, opting instead to spend the night in. After the chaos of Jaxon's party and everything that had happened since, I needed a break. Plus, with my competition coming up, I had to stay focused.

As I set up my books and laptop at the small dining table in my apartment, I couldn't help but glance at my phone every now and then. Part of me expected Landon to text or show up unannounced like he always seemed to. The other part of me dreaded that he would.

I started going through my notes, trying to lose myself in my schoolwork, but it was impossible to ignore the nagging feeling in my chest. Things with Landon weren't supposed to be complicated. He was just another rival—someone I butted heads with on the ice and off. But now? The lines between us felt blurred, and I wasn't sure where they were anymore.

After a while, my focus shifted to my skating. My performance was crucial; nationals were looming closer, and the pressure was suffocating. My body was aching, bruises hidden under my leggings from all the recent falls. I had to land everything perfectly, every time, or else my spot on the team would be at risk.

The weight of it all felt heavier today. I stood up from the table, stretching my stiff muscles, and found myself staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror near the door. My gaze caught on my frame—lean, but not in the way it used to be. My parents' voices echoed in my head, picking apart every aspect of my performance from the last competition. The scores had been perfect, but it didn't matter.

"Your jumps looked sluggish."

"Your spins were slower than the last time."

"You've gained weight, haven't you?"

The last comment cut the deepest. I had tried so hard, done everything right, but it was never enough. I pinched at my skin, hating the way their words still had power over me.

I didn't notice how long I'd been standing there, staring at myself in the mirror until my phone buzzed. It was Ava.

"Heading out. Text if you change your mind, babe!"

I stared at the message for a moment before tossing my phone back onto the table. I couldn't bring myself to respond, knowing I wouldn't be able to handle a night out—not tonight.

I turned away from the mirror, sinking back into the chair, my chest tight. The feeling of control was slipping, just like it always did when I let my thoughts spiral about my skating, my body, everything. I needed to be better. Perfect. Always perfect.

But no matter what I did, I never felt good enough.

The next morning, I dragged myself to the rink. Every step was heavy, but I forced myself through it. Skating had always been my outlet—the one place I could shut out the noise. But today, even the ice felt like a battlefield.

Landon was there, of course. His team was practicing, and I caught glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye. He didn't come over, though. He hadn't spoken to me since the coffee shop, and part of me was relieved. The other part? Not so much.

After practice, I stayed late, running through my routine over and over again. My legs were sore, my muscles burning from the exertion, but I kept pushing. I had to land my triple lutz cleanly—I couldn't afford another mistake. But no matter how hard I tried, something was off. My balance wasn't right. My mind wasn't in the game.

On my last attempt, I went down hard. The sound of my body hitting the ice echoed in the empty rink. I groaned, rolling onto my back, my breath coming in sharp bursts. My chest ached—not just from the fall, but from the crushing weight of everything I'd been bottling up.

Tears stung my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. I couldn't break down here, not where someone might see. I had to keep it together. But it felt like the world was closing in on me, the pressure suffocating. My parents' criticism, my own expectations, the impossible standards I'd set for myself—it was all too much.

I was still lying on the ice, staring up at the bright lights above, when I heard footsteps approaching. I quickly wiped my eyes, sitting up just as Landon appeared at the edge of the rink. Of course, it had to be him.

He didn't say anything at first, just watched me with that same unreadable expression he always had. His gaze flicked to my leg, which I'd twisted awkwardly when I fell.

"Need help?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

I shook my head, trying to stand. Pain shot up my ankle, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to my feet. "I'm fine," I muttered, not meeting his eyes.

"Doesn't look like it," he said, stepping closer. "You've been pushing yourself too hard."

I glared at him, ignoring the throbbing in my ankle. "I don't need you telling me what to do."

Landon raised an eyebrow but didn't push back. "You can barely walk, Em."

"I'm fine," I snapped, brushing past him and limping toward the exit. I didn't want his concern. I didn't want anyone's concern.

But as I reached the door, the pain in my ankle intensified, and I stumbled. Before I could hit the ground, Landon was there, his arm catching me, holding me steady.

"Let go of me," I said, my voice shaky, but he didn't.

"You need to go to the hospital," he said firmly, ignoring my protests. "That's not a suggestion."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the pain was too much. I couldn't deny it anymore. Reluctantly, I let him help me to his car. The ride to the hospital was silent, the tension between us thick.

I stared out the window, trying to focus on anything but the fact that I was injured. The fear of what this setback meant gnawed at me. Missing practice, losing time before nationals—it was all slipping through my fingers.

As we pulled into the hospital parking lot, I felt a lump form in my throat. Landon parked and looked over at me, his expression softening.

"Hey," he said quietly, his hand resting on the steering wheel. "You're going to be okay."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. But deep down, I wasn't sure I believed him. Because for the first time in a long time, I felt like everything was spiraling out of control. And I didn't know how to stop it.