Page 80 of Back Outside Edge

Yet Caro had let it happen, let us become involved, let me sneak through her backyard almost every night. I've held on to so much guilt because she was the one most impacted by the scandal, but she should have been.

It was never my scandal.

The silence drags on as my mind whirls, and Caro lets me think without interruption. How much of the past four years have I spent feeling terrible about what happened, about myself? Truly believing everything was my fault, I wasn't good enough, she'd left me because of my failures. The ones both on and off the ice.

I’ve told myself over and over that I let the photo happen, let her life become miserable. I missed my shot at the Olympics, the thing we’d worked so very hard for. Everything converged in one terrible argument, blasting through a three year partnership, a two year relationship, her career, my future. I’ve been so scared since that moment. Terrified of love, of disappointing someone who cared about me.

Now I’ve let myself open up again, I’ve done the same thing all over again, though. What does it mean? That I was right, for the past four years, despite what Caro is telling me? I should never have let Stefan in?

“Did you leave me because of the picture or my failure?” I ask, terrified of the answer. I'm not sure which is better, if either of them is.

“Your failure?” She sounds confused, as if it’s not the most obvious thing in the world.

“To make the Olympic team, when all the investment you made in me was for nothing.” The room is spinning around me, everything a blur, as I admit my deepest fear. The thing I’ve kept so close to my heart, tried to hide from everyone, even Stefan. The world knows the scandal; only Caro and I know how furious she was with me for failing. How much of a failure I am.

"Oh God, Evan, no. That's not it at all. That's never been it. You didn't fail. You came in third at Nationals. That was a win. It was amazing."

It should relieve me, heal more of the holes in my heart, but it doesn’t. It sounds too pat, too what I want to hear. "We tried so hard for the team, and when you left, you said... " I’m whispering the words, tears running unheeded down my cheeks.

"I said a lot of things that weren't true," she responds, firm and decisive. "I was trying to push you away, and I was a bitch about it. I’m sorry for that. I’ve failed you so many times.”

“I don’t understand.” Part of me does, wants to accept her words and finally start healing. The rest of me is too scared to believe.

Caro’s voice gentles, but it’s still firm, unequivocal. “Evan, the reason I left is because I woke up and realized what I was doing to you. I left for you, because I knew that you wouldn't give me up and I wouldn't be able to say no. For the first time in our relationship, I was trying to be the adult, and I didn’t even quite manage that. It had nothing to do with your performance at Nationals and the scandal only forced the wake up call. You did nothing wrong.”

After almost four years of slicing at me, the jagged heart pieces begin to stitch themselves back together. Hearing her say it, without conditions, leaving no room for doubt, I can take a full breath for the first time in a very, very long time.

Even if I’m back in the same position now, it’s still not my fault. Letting Stefan in, allowing myself to start to fall for him wasn’t a mistake. It was living my life, allowing myself to dream, to love.

I deserve that. I’m not worthless, not a failure who deserved the pain Caro left with me. It won't magically be easier next time, but now I know I can move forward. Not let my past stand in the way of my future again.

I can do anything. Be anything.

With the possible exception of someone who can get out of their own bed.

Chapter 31

Stefan

Seven days after the fall

New York, NY

"NYU Langone." The voice that answers when I make it through the automated system is cheerful, professional, and polite.

It's time to be brazen, bluff my way through. "Could you transfer me to Evan Marquez's room, please?" I ask, trying to sound equally polite, professional, and cheerful.

"Do you have that room number, sir?" Her voice has gone a little bit harder, as if she's used to weeding out people. The hospital, according to its website, is famous for working with athletes. She probably is.

Which means I have another hurdle to jump through before I can see Evan. "I don't," I admit. "His sister told me he was here. I've been looking for him. I'm his boyfriend." Is that even still true? And will my claim help or hurt me? Will she feel sorry for a worried boyfriend or assume that I'm some kind of stalker. But I don't know what else to try.

"Can I get your name, please?" Her voice is crisp. Still professional. Which is more than I expected after my rambling explanation.

"Stefan Petryk," I answer.

I assume she'll brush me off. Instead, she gasps. "Stefan Petryk?" Her voice is all but a squeal. She's gone from professional nurse to fangirl in about half a second. Oh, thank fuck. I can use fangirl. I know how to deal with fangirl. "The figure skater?"

"That's the one." I keep my voice calm, trying to sound a little bit flattered that she's recognized my name. Like it's not an everyday occurrence, and she's something special. "You know who I am?"