Page 18 of Love on the Edge
Holy. Shit.
“Nina. We need totalk about adding a jump to your long program,” her coach calls.
“Duty calls,” Nina says, flashing a grin as she skates backward. “I’ll see you two later.”
I watch her go, the sound of her blades scraping clean against the ice. I was supposed to cut the rink, but Harry told me to wait.
“We need to talk,” Valeria says.
She’s tense, too tense, shoulders squared, jaw set, but her eyes give her away.
She’s freaking out.
And I have a feeling I know why.
I watch as Valeria steps off the ice, sliding her blade guards over her skates with quick, sharp movements. Then, completely catching me off guard, she yanks me around the corner by my wrist.
"You’re Nina’s older brother?" Her voice is low, but sharp. Like she can’t believe she’s even saying the words. "How the hell did I not put two and two together?"
I don’t know if I should answer. I don’t know what she wantsto hear. So I don’t. I wait. My jaw tightens, my breath steady, but there’s something uneasy curling in my chest. The silence stretches, heavy, and I hold it—watching, waiting.
She glances around, scanning the area like someone might overhear us, like we’re standing on top of something that could explode at any second.
"Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?" she snaps. "Why didn’t you say anything?!"
I really don’t like her tone. It feels like she’s used to cutting people down with words, but I’m not some kid she can scold. I don’t flinch. I don’t move, if anything, my gaze hardens.
"Guess it never came up," I say, keeping my voice even.
She mutters something under her breath, shaking her head. "Unbelievable."
Then, something shifts. The anger doesn’t disappear, but something else pushes through—panic.
"You’re married," Valeria says, her voice lower now, but desperate. “We cannot tell Nina.”
I don’t even blink, although I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting, I was under the impression that we’d hit it off last night. "Wasn’t planning on telling her anything."
She exhales sharply, still pacing, still running through whatever worst-case scenarios are playing in her head.
"I mean it, Ethan. We have to act like nothing happened," she says, spinning back to face me.
I raise a brow, watching her practically unravel in real time. "Well, you’re not doing a great job being inconspicuous."
She glares. She liked me well enough to let me fuck her last night, but apparently she’s embarrassed by that now? It doesn’t make sense, but I'm not going to argue with her.
"We need to pretend that we’re just…" she trails off, jaw tight.
I push off the wall slightly, leaning in just a little too close. "Just what?"
She exhales hard, like she has to force the word out. "Friends."
I let that settle. Just long enough to see how much she hates saying it. "Whatever you say," I reply, neutral.
She looks calmer now. Steadier, like she’s convinced herself she’s got this under control. Then, just as she turns to leave—
She stops. Freezes.
"You’re married." She’s repeating herself now.
