From Lukov with Love by Mariana Zapata
“It’s not—”
I gave him a look that I knew was my crazy expression. “If you fucking say that’s not what it’s like, I will punch you right now, on the dick, as hard as I can.”
He shut his mouth, because he knew I would.
But he’d broken this dam, and now he was going to have to live with it.
“I gave you three years of my life, Paul. Three. You were my partner, I would have done almost anything for you, and you treated me like a piece of shit. You just ran away and did what you wanted to do, without telling me. Don’t tell me I owe you anything. I don’t. I don’t owe you a single fucking thing,” I hissed at him, pointing my finger at him because there was no way I could keep my hand from doing something when all it really wanted to do was form a ball and break his nose or his dick.
“You make it seem like I could have just… told you. Like it would have been that easy,” he replied, his hand still caught in his hair, his expression twisted.
I blinked. “Yeah, it would have been that easy. Hey, Jasmine, I quit. I’m going to pair up with someone you can’t stand. Good luck,” I mocked, shaking my head. “Done.”
His laughter held a sharp edge. “That’s not how it would have gone, and you know it. You would’ve yelled at me, called me a quitter, a bitch, a pussy, all those things and more. You know you would have. You wouldn’t have let me leave that easily.”
You promised Ivan you wouldn’t do this. You promised.
And I had.
And that’s why I kept my hand at my side, still.
“Yeah, I would have. I would have done all of those things. We both know that. But you’re an idiot for not understanding why. I would have given you a hard time because we were in it together. Because we were a team, and I wouldn’t just give up on you like it was nothing. But you’re a grown-ass man that makes his own decisions. I wouldn’t have tied you up and forced you to stay. Give me a fucking break.”
The moment the words were out of my mouth, I was genuinely surprised by them. I don’t even think I had ever thought that way before. Much less felt that way.
But I had.
He’d hurt me, and I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know that I had cared about him. And I wasn’t above wanting him to know that I would have fought for him.
But that was two years ago.
One year ago, I would have wanted to beat the shit out of him. I would have been too prideful to ever admit any of this. But I wasn’t. Not anymore. At this point, all I wanted was to get this horrible guilt and anger I’d been suffering with off my chest. I wanted it out of my life. Out of me.
I wanted to move on. Maybe I already had. Mostly.
I still wanted to beat his ass, but I’d settle for making him regret the day he’d met me. The only way to do that was to kick the shit out of him and Mary on the ice. And I would. Ivan and I would.
“I cared about you too, Jasmine,” he said, making me roll my eyes. “I still care about you. When I heard about your sprain, I was worried. I wanted to call you, but… I couldn’t.”
Yeah, he got another eye roll for that shitty lie. “Okay.”
“You don’t understand….”
I raised my hands at my sides and let them fall right back down. “Okay, Paul. Tell me. Right now. What is it you want me to hear, huh? That you left me because you wanted a better chance at winning?”
This man gulped again, dragging his hand down his face and over the white and blue spandex bodysuit costume he had on. “Why do you always turn shit around? I miss you, Jas. I’ve picked up the phone to call you at least a dozen times….”
All I wanted was for him to shut. The. Fuck. Up.
“Honest to God, cross my heart and hope to die, I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Or ever again. Whatever you thought you felt, whatever excuses you’ve talked yourself into believing to justify the way you treated me… live with it. Deal with it. If you know me half as well as you think you do, you know I’m not ever going to forgive you.”
“Jasmine, I—”
“Nope. Don’t even bother. If you see my mom, run the other way. If you see me, turn around and pretend that you don’t,” I said to him, sounding oddly calm. “I would have forgiven you if you’d talked to me first. I would have forgiven you for saying all that shit you did about finding a partner you can ‘really work with.’ And I could have forgiven you eventually for shoving me out of your life. But I’m not going to. I’m not that good of a person.” I swept my eyes to the side, giving him my best blank expression and said, “You better go. I have shit to do, and I don’t want you as an audience.”
Paul Jones blinked. I’d swear maybe even his chin wobbled a little bit. But in that way that was his, he glanced away and sighed, pressing his lips together. “Jasmine, look—”
“Just go.”
“I just want to tell you—”
“I don’t care,” I said, giving him my back again.
He was so full of shit. Ugh.
“Do you even know why I never called you back any of those times you’d leave me voice mails cussing me out right after? Or that time you called me drunk months later, yelling at me?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t really care,” I told him, my voice even, almost robotic as I looked past him toward the door and prayed, prayed that Ivan was coming.
He frowned so deeply lines formed across his forehead. Those brown eyes sliced away from me before they came back. “Jasmine, it was because Ivan called me a week afterward and said he would ‘fuck me up’ if I ever contacted you again.”
The hell did he just say?
“Stop looking at me like you think I’m lying. I’m not. He called me and said that if I knew what was good for me, I would leave you alone, but if I didn’t, he was going to fuck me up so bad I would regret the day I ever decided to skate pairs.”
Ivan.
Ivan had said that? Done that? But that had been a year before we’d paired up, weeks after we’d flipped each other off in a hallway, I was pretty sure.
Ivan had done that?
“I also said that I’d destroy you. You missed that part,” a familiar voice piped up, making both of us turn to find Ivan peeking his head inside the room, the door barely cracked, hair perfectly gelled into place, his face shaved clean, everything about him bright and sparkling. And he was smiling. And holding red roses.
I loved him.
Goddamn I had no idea what the hell had happened or why it had happened, but I loved him so much in that moment, my heart could have burst.
“But Jasmine can too. She’s so small and cute, it’s deceiving how strong she is. And it’s weird how mad she can get. She’s like a little Gremlin; you better not put any water on her because she’ll go crazy,” he went on, smiling at me with affection as he stepped into the room fully, showing off his matching black costume. “But you should know that.”
Paul looked between Ivan and me for a moment before taking a step to the side, away from me.
“I—”
“She’s my partner now, Paulie, and she’s going to keep being my partner. And you know what? I’m not real good with sharing, so it might be a good idea if you got out of here before all those things I had warned you about come true,” Ivan cut him off, as he came to stand at my side.
Ivan didn’t touch me. He didn’t need to. I knew he was there, and he knew I knew that.
That was the thing with us. We understood each other. We knew the length and depth of our trust and loyalty. And that meant more than any empty-ass words ever would.
“Don’t you have something you need to go do?” Ivan asked with a deceptively lazy blink.
Paul sighed, then took a step back. He glanced at me over his shoulder, his lingering look might have made me feel bad if I hadn’t wanted to kill him, before he headed toward the exit. He’d barely opened the door when Ivan’s fingers slipped through mine.
“You handled that better than I would have expected,” he said, not even lowering his voice
I peeked up at him. “You think?”
His nod was so enthusiastic, it made me almost laugh. “Yeah. Coach Lee and I thought you’d at least slap him.”
“You told me not to.” Damn it.
“No, I told you to wait until after this was over. I didn’t think he’d actually come up to you and try and talk to you. He doesn’t know you at all, does he?” Ivan snickered. “Dumbass. I bet he has no clue how close he was to dying. I could hear it in your voice, and once I saw your face, I was honestly worried you were going to do some John Wick shit with the comb I left on the counter.”
I couldn’t help but bust out laughing. I couldn’t remember ever laughing before a competition. Ever. Not once.
The tug he gave my hand made me look at him as I kept on laughing.
“You good?” he asked, pressing our joined hands against his hip.
I nodded, and once I’d stopped laughing and still had a smile on my face, I narrowed my eyes on him. “Did you really call him and tell him not to contact me ever again?”
That was the thing about Ivan. He didn’t bullshit. Not ever. I didn’t think he was even capable of being embarrassed either. Because there was no hesitation as he responded. “Yes.”
“Why?”
His body didn’t move from its spot beside me, his hand didn’t let go of mine either as he said, “Because Karina called and told me what happened. She asked if there was anything I could do. If I knew anyone else that you could pair up with.”
This low-level hum began in my ears, but I made myself ask, “Then what happened?”
“I told her I didn’t. Then I called him and told him how it was going to be, I was that pissed,” he explained easily.
I felt like a dumb, pathetic girl asking for reassurances, but I didn’t care enough to let it stop me. “You were mad for me?”
“No shit, Sherlock. The idea of you being upset over that waste of breath pissed me off. You deserved better.” He smiled and pressed our hands tight against his side. “If you were going to cry for anyone, it was going to be me.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
But then Ivan moved his body. He moved it to face mine, to stand in front of me, forcing me to tip my head back just enough so I could look at his eyes, the bouquet between us. Slowly, taking his time, his forehead dropped to mine. “Do you regret what happened?”
I looked right into those clear blue eyes and told him, “It was the best thing that could have happened to me.”
“Me too, Jas.”
And this… this thing that I knew was love bubbled up inside of me, and I knew it was a stupid idea. I knew I needed to shut the fuck up. But as I looked into those beautiful eyes and held that hand that had been there to hold me up so many times, I reminded myself that I was nobody’s bitch.
Not even my own.
“Vanya,” I started to say, oddly not nervous, so close his breath touched my lips. “I don’t expect anything from you, and I don’t want to make this weird, but I want you to know—”
His “Shut up” caught me off guard.
I blinked. “Don’t tell me to shut up. I want to tell you something.”
He suddenly dropped our hands, smiled, and took a step away. “I got something for you.”
“You got me flowers?” I asked.
He shook his head as he set them on the counter beside me. “No, they’re from Karina.”
I smiled at the thought of her sending flowers. I’d have to send her a text later to say thank you.
“I did get you something, and someone else sent you something too.”
I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes. “Who?”
Ivan smiled. “Patty.”
“Who is Patty?”
His smile drooped. “That teenager at the LC you stood up for. The one who looks just like you and is really outgoing?”
“Oh.” Her. I hadn’t realized we looked alike. “She sent me something?” Why?
“A card.”
Huh. “She didn’t have to do that.”
“No, she didn’t, but she found me the day before we left and begged me to give it to you,” he said. “But I got you something too. It’s not the souls of everyone that has ever pissed you off, but….”
That had me shutting my mouth. For all of a second.
“I was going to give it to you after, but I think I should give it to you now.”
I pressed my lips together and asked slowly, “What is it?” as he turned to his giant rolling suitcase and dug his hand into large pocket on the outside of it.
“I thought we were past you thinking I’m going to randomly kill you.”
“I don’t think we’ll ever be past that.”
Ivan laughed with his back to me. “My plan is to kill you after worlds. Get it right.”
“I’ll write it down in my calendar then. Thank you for the warning.”
His head shook as he yanked his hand out of the pocket, holding something wrapped in tissue paper and something else in a white envelope.
“I was kind of expecting a scorpion, but I don’t think you’d put your own life in danger to kill me.”
“Shut up, I’ll put the card here for you to read later,” he murmured again, amusement in his voice as he turned to face me. “Let me see your hand.”
I held out my right hand, but he smacked it gently down. So I raised the other one. I watched as he set the tissue-paper-wrapped thing on the counter and took my wrist with both of his big hands. He tugged the sleeve of my costume up about three inches on my forearm, exposing the bracelet I always wore. I had tightened the leather straps on it that morning so I could wear it under my costume, like I normally did.
I didn’t think much of it until his thumb brushed over the slim metal plate held on by the leather straps I’d had to replace once a year since I’d originally gotten it made when I was twelve at a fair. To Jasmine. From your best friend, Jasmine was engraved on it. My mom had rolled her eyes when she’d paid for it. I’d showed her the documentary about another figure skater I admired who had worn the same thing. She had been amazing for her time, competitive and had never given a single fuck what other people thought about her. I thought she had been the shit, but mostly, she thought she was the shit.
It had always been my reminder that I had to believe in myself.
And I’d been wearing it proudly since.
But Ivan’s fingers went to the straps I had just retied, and he began undoing the tiny knot with those long, graceful fingers. I wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing and why he was taking it off, but… I trusted him. So, I kept my mouth shut as he pulled it off and set it on the counter beside the tissue-wrapped whatever it was.
Okay.
He grabbed the thing off the counter in the same move and opened the tissue paper, pulling out something that looked almost identical. A sliver of metal with a leather band around it. Except the leather was bright pink.
“I don’t want you to get nervous tonight,” he started to say as he held the bracelet in one hand, his eyes on me.
I switched back and forth between looking at him and the thing in his hand. “I’m not nervous.”
He snickered. “Fine, you’re not nervous. But I want you to know that regardless of what happens today and tomorrow, it doesn’t matter, Meatball.”
And that had me snapping my head up to look him in the eye. The fuck was he talking about? “Of course it matters.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he insisted. “It’s just a competition. If we win or lose, it doesn’t change anything.”
What the hell did he mean by anything?
Ivan took my hand with the one not holding the bracelet and rubbed his thumb over the back of my wrist. “I’m not going to be mad. I’m not going to be disappointed. I hope you’re not either.”
I watched him carefully but didn’t say anything.
His jaw moved, and his eyelids hung low over those sp
“Be disappointed if we don’t win?”
I didn’t like the nod he gave me.
But I thought about his words for one tiny moment. Would I be disappointed if I fucked up or if he fucked up and everything went to shit and we ended up in sixth place tonight and tomorrow? Would I be furious like I had been in the past?
“No.” I wouldn’t. “You’d be in sixth place with me. I wouldn’t be alone. If I’m going to fail, at least we’d do it together,” I whispered, this funny fucking feeling going over my body.
It felt like… it felt like relief. Like acceptance. And it was the second single most beautiful thing I had ever felt in my life.
Second to loving this idiot and my family.
And that had to be the right fucking answer he was looking for because the smile that came over his face was the best one he’d ever shared with me yet. “Give me back your wrist, you little shit,” he ordered, beaming that smile that I wished with all my heart was mine and only mine.
And except for his dogs and his pig and his bunny, it might very well be.
So I gave him my wrist.
And I watched as he tied the pink leather straps together, tight but not too tight, and left the bracelet up high on my arm like I’d had the other one, in the perfect spot to be hidden by the sleeve of my costume. He’d barely finished the knot when I brought my forearm to my face and read the tiny inscription on the metal.
To Meatball
From your best friend, Ivan
And in the time it took me to read the metal plate about four times, Ivan had already tied my bracelet to his own wrist.
But it didn’t fit under his sleeve.
And when he smiled at me, I knew he didn’t even care.
Chapter 23
“I don’t usually give Ivan pep talks before he skates, Jasmine, but I can give you one if you need it,” Coach Lee offered as we stood in the tunnel off to the side of the ice, as the team on the ice started their short program.