Worth The Wait

𝟎𝟕|𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄

I stepped into the rink, the familiar bite of the cold air wrapping around me, but for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel comforting. It felt suffocating. My body was here, but my mind was stuck in the locker room, replaying every word Callum had said.
"You need to lose weight."
"You're carrying too much."
"We'll put you on a diet."
The words echoed, sinking their claws into me, digging deep, refusing to let go. I had barely slept last night, lying awake, dissecting his words, staring at the number on the scale as if it held all the answers.
Now, I was here. Back on the ice. But it didn't feel like home today.
I pulled my skates tighter than usual, the sting of the laces against my ankles grounding me. I needed to focus. I needed to work harder. If Callum thought I wasn't enough, then I'd prove him wrong.
Sonya was waiting by the boards, her sharp eyes watching as I stepped onto the ice. She didn't say anything at first, just observed the way I carried myself, the tension in my frame.
"What's going on?" she finally asked, her voice steady, unreadable.
"Nothing," I said too quickly. I forced a smile. "Just ready to train."
Her expression didn't change, but she sighed, as if she already knew I was lying. "Lucie."
I swallowed, pushing down the knot in my throat. If I told her what Callum had said, would she agree with him? Would she look at me and see the extra weight, the softness I suddenly couldn't stop noticing?
Or worse—would she dismiss it? Tell me to shake it off and just focus?
I didn't want to hear either answer.
So I did what I knew best. I buried it.
"Can we just skate?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn't take it back.
Sonya studied me for another second, then gave a slow nod. "Alright," she said. "Let's see what you've got."
I launched into my routine with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. Every jump, every spin, every movement—I pushed myself harder, faster, sharper. I didn't care about pacing myself, didn't care about exhaustion or the burn in my muscles. I needed to be better.
Sonya didn't stop me, but I could feel her watching.
By the time I landed my last jump, my breath was ragged, my vision edged with black spots. My hands clenched into fists as I steadied myself, my skates cutting into the ice.
Sonya finally spoke. "You're skating like you're punishing yourself."
I flinched. "I'm skating how I need to."
She sighed. "No, you're not. You're trying to outrun something."
I clenched my jaw, my nails digging into my palms. "It's fine, Sonya. I just need to work harder. That's all."
Her gaze didn't waver. "You're already working hard. Killing yourself on the ice won't fix whatever's in your head."
I forced myself to meet her eyes, to keep my expression neutral. "Can we just go again?"
She hesitated, then gave a small nod. But as I set up for another jump, I knew she wasn't letting this go.
And worse—I wasn't sure how much longer I could outrun it. I landed, my breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps. My muscles screamed in protest, but I ignored them. I had more in me. I had to go again.
I turned to set up for another jump, but Sonya's voice cut through the rink, firm and unyielding.
"No."
I froze, my body stiffening. "What?"
She skated toward me, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp. "You're done for today."
A sharp pang of frustration shot through me. "I can keep going."
"I don't care," she said simply. "You're not skating—you're attacking the ice. And that's not training. That's something else."
I bit the inside of my cheek, willing myself to stay calm. "Sonya, please."
She shook her head. "Take off your skates and meet me in my office."
The finality in her tone left no room for argument. My stomach twisted as I skated to the boards, my hands shaking as I unlaced my boots. I knew Sonya—knew when she was serious. And right now, she wasn't just my coach. She was someone who saw too much.
By the time I finished taking off my skates, my legs felt unsteady, and I wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion or something deeper.
I made my way to her office, every step heavier than the last. My muscles ached from training, but the exhaustion pressing down on me wasn't just physical. It was the weight of Callum's words, the suffocating pressure of the Games, and the gnawing uncertainty that I couldn't shake.
When I pushed the door open, Sonya was there, sitting behind her desk with a stack of papers in front of her. She didn't look up at first, absorbed in whatever she was working on. But the second I closed the door behind me, her gaze lifted, sharp and knowing.
She could tell something was off.
I sank into the chair across from her, pressing my hands against my lap to keep them from shaking. Anxiety churned in my stomach, my mind racing ahead to a future I couldn't control. The Winter Games were supposed to be the pinnacle of everything I had worked for, but suddenly, it felt like it was all slipping away.
And all because of Callum.
Sonya didn't rush me to speak. She simply watched, patient as ever, but I hated that she saw through me so easily. I swallowed hard, forcing the words out.
"It's Callum," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "I've heard rumors that he might quit. Before the Games. Before everything."
Sonya's expression didn't shift, but I caught the flicker of concern in her eyes. She set down her pen, folding her hands together. "What kind of rumors?"
I hesitated. "I don't know exactly. He hasn't said anything outright, but... he's been distant. More than usual. I think he's seriously considering walking away."
Sonya leaned back in her chair, her gaze steady. "I've heard whispers too. But I didn't want to bring it up unless you did." A beat of silence passed before she added, "It's not easy for anyone to deal with—especially you, being so close to him."
I exhaled, frustration curling in my chest. "I don't know what to do. Do I talk to him? Do I wait for him to figure it out himself? I can't just sit here and do nothing, but if he walks away... I don't know what I'll do."
She studied me carefully, then leaned forward. "Lucie, listen to me. I know how much Callum means to you, how much this partnership means. But you need to understand something. You are more than just his partner. You always have been."
I shifted uncomfortably. "But it's not just about skating, Sonya. It's the Games. We've worked so hard for this. If he quits, it's not just the end of our partnership—it's the end of everything we've built."
Sonya nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "I get it. I do. But you've been skating for a long time, Lucie. You were on this path before Callum, and you'll still be on it after, no matter what he decides."
I let out a shaky breath. "I don't know if I can do it without him," I admitted. "We've been a team for so long. I don't know if I can face the Games alone."
She didn't hesitate. "I'm not saying it'll be easy. But you've trained your whole life for this. You have the skill, the mindset. The Games are important, yes, but they are not the end of your career. And they sure as hell aren't the end of who you are."
My throat tightened, the weight of it all pressing down harder. "But I don't even know what comes next. Without Callum, I don't know what my future looks like."
Sonya exhaled softly, choosing her words carefully. "It's normal to feel that way. Change is scary. But this isn't just about skating—it's about what you want for your life. You can't let Callum's decisions define your future."
The truth of her words struck something deep inside me. I had spent so much time thinking of myself as part of a team that I had forgotten how to see myself outside of it.
And now, I wasn't sure if I even recognized the girl who had once loved this sport so fiercely.
"I don't know what I want anymore," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "The passion I used to have for skating... it's gone. It's all just so much pressure now. I don't know if I'm doing it for me or for everyone else."
Sonya softened, her voice gentle but steady. "That's okay. But you have to find it again, Lucie. You can't let the pressure of everything else take away the reason you started in the first place. You're not just skating for the Games. You're skating for you."
I looked down at my hands, my mind spinning. The pressure was suffocating, and it was only getting worse.
"What if I can't do it without him?" I asked, more to myself than to her.
"Then you'll find another way," Sonya said simply. "But you won't know until you give it a shot. You have to make that choice for yourself. Not for him, not for anyone else. You. And no matter what happens with Callum, you can't let that decide your future. You need to be ready for whatever comes next."
I was quiet for a long moment, processing everything she had said.
I wasn't ready for any of this. I wasn't ready to lose Callum, to face the Games alone.
But I also couldn't keep letting fear hold me back.
"I don't know what to do," I admitted softly.
Sonya's expression was kind but firm. "And you don't have to know everything right now. But you do need to take some time. Clear your head. Figure out what you want. Whether that's with Callum or without him."
I nodded, even though I still didn't have any answers.
As I left her office, the weight of the conversation settled heavily on my shoulders. I felt more lost than ever, but deep beneath the uncertainty, something flickered—a spark of determination.
I wasn't sure what came next.
But I knew one thing for certain.
I had to decide what I wanted.
When I got home, I sat in front of my phone, the uncertainty overwhelming. I could call Callum, confront him, figure out what was going on. Or I could just... let go. Either way, I had a choice to make. But I couldn't decide, not yet.
I took a deep breath and held my phone, my fingers hovering over Callum's contact. The urge to press dial was overwhelming, but something inside me hesitated. What would I even say? Hey, I heard you might quit. Can you confirm whether or not my Olympic dreams are about to go up in flames?
Instead, I set my phone down and stared at the ceiling, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me. Every instinct told me to fight—to grab hold of Callum before he slipped away completely. But Sonya's words echoed in my head. You need to figure out what you want.
For so long, the Olympics had been everything. The pinnacle of my existence. But right now, the dream felt fragile, like it could shatter at any second. I didn't know if I was strong enough to hold it together on my own.
A knock on my door pulled me from my thoughts. I stood up, not expecting to see anyone instead, when I opened the door my mom was standing there.
"Hey, sweetheart." Her voice was gentle, cautious. "Mind if I come in?"
I nodded, sitting back down as she entered, closing the door softly behind her. She took one look at me and sighed. "You look like you haven't slept in days."
"I've been... thinking," I admitted.
She sat down beside me, her warmth instantly grounding me. "Thinking or overthinking?"
I exhaled sharply. "Probably both."
She didn't push, just waited. Eventually, the words spilled out. "It's Callum. I think he's going to quit."
Mom's expression didn't change much, but there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "I had a feeling something was wrong."
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up. "I don't know what to do. I keep going over every possibility, trying to figure out a way to fix this before it's too late. But what if it's already too late?"
Mom reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Lucie, I know how much this means to you. But if Callum's heart isn't in it, you can't force him to stay. You have to prepare for whatever comes next."
"But what if I can't do this without him?" The words tasted bitter, like admitting defeat.
She shook her head. "You can do this. You just have to believe it."
I wanted to believe it. I really did. But right now, all I could feel was fear.
Mom gave me a reassuring smile and kissed my forehead. "You'll figure this out. You always do."
I wished I had her confidence.
────୨ৎ────
The next day, I decided I couldn't sit in limbo any longer. I needed answers. I needed to hear it from Callum himself.
The drive to the rink felt longer than usual, every red light stretching out the inevitable. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. I tried to steady my breathing, but no amount of deep breaths could calm the storm brewing inside me.
The moment I stepped inside, the familiar scent of ice and sweat wrapped around me, usually comforting—except today, something felt different. Off.
Empty.
Callum was already on the ice, gliding effortlessly across the surface. But I saw it immediately—something was missing. His edges weren't as sharp, his landings not as precise. The power and control that had always defined him were fading, slipping through the cracks.
I stepped onto the ice, my blades cutting clean lines into the surface as I made my way toward him. He saw me coming and slowed to a stop, his expression unreadable.
"Lucie." His voice was cautious, careful.
"We need to talk."
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before nodding. "I know."
I folded my arms, locking my emotions behind a wall of steel. "Are you quitting?"
Silence.
The kind that stretched too long, that carried weight without words.
And that was all the answer I needed.
"I don't know yet," he finally admitted.
I clenched my jaw. "That's not good enough, Callum. The Games are in a few months. I need to know where we stand."
He looked away, staring at the ice like it might give him an escape. "I don't want to lie to you. I've been struggling for a while now, and I don't know if I can keep going."
Anger flared in my chest, hot and sharp. "And you didn't think to tell me that? Instead, you let me keep believing everything was fine?"
His gaze snapped back to mine. "I didn't want to disappoint you."
I let out a hollow laugh, bitter and sharp. "Well, congratulations. Because now I'm even more disappointed."
Callum exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair. "Lucie, I tried. I really did. But my heart isn't in it anymore."
His words hit harder than I expected, knocking the breath from my lungs.
"So that's it?" My voice was barely above a whisper. "You're just going to walk away?"
He hesitated. "I don't know."
I shook my head, taking a step back. "I can't do this, Callum. I can't keep waiting for you to decide if my dream still matters to you."
His expression darkened. "That's not fair."
"Neither is leaving me in the dark."
The tension between us was suffocating, years of partnership, trust, and sacrifice unraveling thread by thread.
Finally, Callum sighed. "I need time to figure things out."
I nodded stiffly, even though it felt like my entire world was crumbling beneath me. "Fine. Take your time. But I can't wait forever."
And before he could see the tears burning the back of my eyes, I turned and skated away.
Let him be the one to watch me leave for once.
────୨ৎ────
That night, I sat in my car outside a different rink.
I wasn't sure why I was here. Maybe because I didn't know where else to go. Maybe because, deep down, I was already looking for an alternative.
I stepped inside, the air thick with the sounds of skates cutting through ice. And that's when I saw him.
River Prescott.
He was alone on the ice, moving slowly and carefully. His movements weren't as fluid as before, but he was still strong. He was skating despite everything. Something about that hit me harder than I expected.
He noticed me watching and stopped, raising an eyebrow. "You lost, Basille?"
I rolled my eyes. "Just observing. Don't flatter yourself."
He smirked but didn't press further. Instead, he leaned against the boards. "What are you really doing here?"
I hesitated. I could lie and say I was just passing by. But the truth was heavier.
"My partner might be quitting." The words felt foreign as if I wasn't ready to admit them yet.
River's expression shifted, the usual smugness fading. "That sucks. Why are you telling me? "
"Yeah." I swallowed hard. "It does. I don't know why I told you, River. Sorry."
A beat of silence passed between us. Then, before I could stop myself, I stormed out of the rink. I didn't know why I told River. Maybe it was the isolation of the moment, the way he was skating alone, lost in his own world, or maybe it was because, deep down, I needed someone who understood the pressure of the ice, even if it was him. But now, as I walked away from the rink, the words hung in the air like a bad smell I couldn't shake.
I didn't want to feel vulnerable around him. We were enemies, for heaven's sake. Well, at least I had convinced myself that we were. The incident in high school—the way he had humiliated me on the rink and shattered my confidence—still stung after all these years. And yet, as much as I hated to admit it, there was something about his presence that pulled me in. Something that made me feel less alone in the chaos swirling inside me.
I hadn't realized how much I craved that connection until I found myself back in my car, staring out into the darkness. The night seemed to swallow everything up, but still, I couldn't silence the overwhelming thoughts running through my mind. I should've been more careful with my words. I should've stayed away from River, avoided him like I always had.
But I didn't.
My phone buzzed, pulling me out of my reverie. It was a message from Sonya.
"Check your email."
I sighed, clicking into my inbox, half-expecting another drill or performance analysis. But instead, the subject line stopped me cold: "Callum's decision."
I swallowed hard. I hadn't been ready for this. Not yet. Not now.
With a shaky hand, I clicked on the email, hoping for the best but bracing for the worst.
Lucie,
I hope this finds you well. I wanted to let you know that after some careful thought, I've decided to take some time away from our partnership. This doesn't mean quitting just yet, but I've been struggling for a while and need to figure out where my head is at before making any big decisions. I know this doesn't give you the clarity you need, but I want to be upfront with you. I'll let you know as soon as I can give you a definite answer.
Sincerely Callum,
I stared at the words, my mind frozen. The message was vague, but one thing was clear: Callum was in turmoil. He hadn't quit, not yet, but he was on the edge, and I was left standing in the uncertain space between hope and fear.
I felt a rush of frustration well up inside me. I hadn't signed up for this. I was supposed to be focused, driven, moving toward my goal, and instead, everything was falling apart.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
I gripped my phone tighter and set it down on the seat next to me. The weight of his indecision pressed on me, suffocating. I didn't know what I was supposed to do now. Wait for him to figure it out? But how long would that take? How long could I keep living in limbo, not knowing whether we'd be together at the Olympics or if I'd be left to pick up the pieces on my own?
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in my chest, but it was no use. The anxiety was overwhelming. And it was only going to get worse.
I pulled out of the parking lot, my hands gripping the wheel too tightly, my thoughts spiraling. What did I do now? Should I confront him? Should I give him space? My instinct said I needed answers—clarity—but how could I get that from someone who didn't even have answers for himself?
The streets blurred around me as I drove, no real destination in mind. The weight of uncertainty was suffocating, and I felt myself drowning in it.
Eventually, I found myself at the rink again. Not the one where I had just seen River, but the one where I had trained for most of my life. The one that had seen me through all the highs and lows, the triumphs and failures. I hadn't come here in weeks, not since Callum and I had started preparing for the Games. But now, standing here in front of the familiar glass doors, I needed the comfort it offered.
Inside, the rink was empty, save for a few coaches finishing up their shifts. I laced up my skates and stepped onto the ice, the cold bite of the surface cutting through my thoughts. For a few moments, everything was quiet, just the sound of my skates gliding across the ice and my breath echoing in the stillness.
But even here, where everything had always felt in control, the chaos inside me still simmered beneath the surface. The uncertainty. The fear. The anger. It all followed me.
I practiced for hours, my movements growing more fluid as the minutes passed. But no matter how hard I pushed myself, I couldn't escape the crushing weight of the decision I had to make.
Sonya's words echoed in my head, and I thought about what she'd said. I wasn't just Callum's partner. I was Lucie Basille. I had been skating for myself long before he came into the picture. And I would still skate, even if I was alone.
I took a deep breath and skated faster, pushing through the fatigue. I couldn't let this decision destroy me. I couldn't let Callum's uncertainty become my own.
I had to pick up the pieces.
I pulled off a jump I hadn't tried in weeks, landing it cleanly. It was a small victory, but it felt like the first one in a long time.
As the sound of my skates cut through the silence, I felt a flicker of resolve light up inside me. Maybe the future wasn't so certain, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from moving forward.
Even if it meant doing it without Callum