Worth The Wait

𝟑𝟔 |𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓

𝐋𝐔𝐂IE 𝐁𝐀𝐒I𝐋𝐋E

The ice is supposed to be the place where I feel most powerful.
Today, it feels like quicksand.

I drive into the rink early, hours before my scheduled session. I don't want to see River. Not yet. Not until I've built myself back up enough to pretend I'm fine again.

The truth is, I didn't sleep last night. Again.
Not after what he said.

I don't hate you, Lucie.

He meant it. That's what wrecked me the most.

Because now that I know he doesn't hate me, I can't hide behind my own. Can't pretend the tension between us is only resentment. Can't pretend the flutter in my stomach when he lifts me is just adrenaline.

I'm not ready for this version of us.

So I lace my skates tight enough to leave red lines across my ankles and force myself through jump after jump until my legs scream. I land a clean triple toe loop and force myself right into another. Then again. Again. My landing wobbles. I curse under my breath, push harder.

If I can just skate hard enough, clean enough, maybe I can quiet the noise in my head.

But it doesn't work. Not really.

The moment I stop moving, it all floods back in.

His voice.
The weight in his eyes when I told him he was a distraction.
The way he didn't fight me.

I can't afford distractions.

I can't afford to fall.

Not now. Not when the Games are close enough to taste.

I skate toward the boards, chest heaving, fingers tingling. Sonya's not here yet. Good. I need another fifteen minutes of pretending I'm okay.

I pull off my gloves and grab my water bottle, then lean my forearms on the ledge, trying to catch my breath.

Then, the sound of the door opening snaps me out of my spiral.

River steps onto the ice, skates tapping lightly against the smooth surface. He moves with that familiar confident glide, but there's something softer in his eyes today. Less cocky, more... uncertain.

He catches my gaze and nods—a silent acknowledgment.

I clamp my jaw and pull my gloves back on, turning away, forcing my muscles to stiffen like armor.

"You're here early," I say without looking.

"Didn't want to keep you waiting," he says quietly, skating closer. "Figured we both need the ice more than anyone else."

I don't answer.

He watches me for a long moment, then clears his throat.

"Lucie, about what I said... I meant it. I don't hate you. Not really. I never did. I just needed to tell you that."

My breath catches. Of course he means it. But that doesn't make it easier.

"I don't hate you either. I already told you I hated you a little. I know we've had this conversation before, but it felt more real, okay? And then everything—the kiss with Alina. I told myself I didn't care that you kissed her—"

"She kissed me, technically," River interrupts, a small, almost guilty smile tugging at his lips.

"But still, River, everything is happening so fast, and sometimes I don't know how to deal with it. All I want is to win the Olympics, so I can have three gold medals, and then maybe I'll retire and do something that actually makes me happy. Because I think I love ice skating. I used to need it like I need air, but I don't know if that's the case anymore."