She presses her lips together, letting out a sigh. “I got a message from a boy named Austin.”
My breath catches.
“He told me you’d never ask me to come again, but that you deserved someone there. That you’ve been working so hard. That you shine on the ice. And that you’d never say it, but you still hoped I’d show up.”
I press my hand to my chest, my heart pounding beneath my palm. “He told you that?”
She nods slowly. “It wasn’t a long message. But it was enough to make me feel ashamed for not being there sooner.”
My mouth opens, but the words don’t come.
Austin.
He made this happen. He reached out to her.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
I take a shaky breath, scanning the hallway until my eyes land on him.
He’s leaning against the vending machines. When our eyes meet, he straightens up and his lips widen into a smile.
“He’s very handsome,” my mom says, nodding in his direction.
I laugh softly, turning back to her. “He knows it.”
She laughs under her breath. “And he clearly adores you. I watched him the entire time you were out there. He didn’t blink once.”
I smile, the sound of her voice easing the tight knot in my chest. I step forward and wrap my arms around her. Her hand finds the back of my head, fingers threading gently through myhair, and I close my eyes, just letting myself lean into it for a second.
“I’m really proud of you, sweetie,” she whispers.
My throat tightens, my eyes stinging, but I nod as I pull back.
She’s looking past me now, and when I glance over my shoulder, I see him.
Austin, standing a few feet away, watching us. His eyes are on me like always, like I’m the only thing he sees in a crowded room.
I turn and walk toward him, and he doesn’t wait. He meets me halfway.
“Hey,” he says, with a huge smile on his face. “You were amazing.”
“You emailed my mom?”
His smile vanishes as his eyes widen and he holds his hands up. “Uh… I plead the fifth.”
I breathe out a quiet laugh. Then I lift up on my toes, slide one hand behind his neck, and kiss him.
His arms wrap around my waist instantly, pulling me in like he needs me close.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I whisper against his lips.
“I wanted to,” he murmurs. “You deserve to have people show up for you.”
He brings his hands to my cheeks, thumbs brushing softly over my skin. His gaze is warm and full of so much pride it nearly undoes me. “I’m proud of you, Mais. So fucking proud.”
I blink rapidly, trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck. “Stop it.”
“I’m serious,” he insists. “That last spin? I almost fainted.”
