Page 53 of Hate You Most

“No,” Viktoriya said, too fast. “I mean, is fine. Good, even. I just… wasn't expecting it.”

Dakota nodded. “I get that.”

Awkward silence formed between them. The last time she remembered speaking with Dakota was eight years ago, and she doubted she was still skating as her main income. Figure skaters usually retired in their early to late twenties, and Dakota would be pushing twenty seven. Viktoriya found herself craving the answer, because there was a small chance.

“Where do you work?”

Dakota hesitated. “I coach,” she said finally. “Mostly private lessons. Some juniors, some adults who just… love the ice.”

Viktoriya tilted her head. “Here?”

“Yeah,” Dakota replied. “A few rinks around the city. I keep my schedule light.”

“For me?” Viktoriya asked, before she could stop herself.

Dakota met her gaze. “For myself. Or—” she corrected gently, “for us. For whatever you need right now.”

Viktoriya nodded, fingers tightening slightly around the wood table. “Do I… work?”

Dakota’s voice softened. “You can't work until you start feeling better.” Then, after a beat she added, “Before that—you were taking some time off.”

“Time off for what?”

Their eyes met across the table. “I don't think I should tell you,” she said. “You could get agitated and your heart rate could spike.”

“I won't get agitated,” Viktoriya said too quickly. “I just want to know. I don't remember and I want to know. Do I still skate?”

Dakota stood silently before taking Viktoriya's half eaten toast to the sink. “I can't tell you,” she said from the kitchen. Viktoriya stood too, hovered around Dakota, as she washed up the plates.

“Do you want to sit on the couch?” Dakota asked. “Or lie down again?”

Viktoriya ignored her. The last thing she wanted to do was sit down right now. “Do I still skate? Is all I want to know, you have to tell me.”

“I can't tell you.”

Fuck it, she needed to know. “Please, Dakota—I have to know.” Viktoriya wondered then if that was the first time she'd ever said Dakota's name and the word please in the same sentence. As needy as she was, she rarely ever begged.

Dakota hesitated for a moment. “You do. You still skate, and you’re fucking brilliant at it.”

Viktoriya exhaled slowly. She still skated. She was still doing the only thing that gave her life its meaning. Whatever happened, she was sure it would all turn out alright. The moment she got cleared for it she was getting back on the ice.

“You need to sit or lie down now,” Dakota demanded. “You’re squinting, and you no doubt have a headache that you're not telling me about. So, couch or bed?”

She couldn't exactly argue with that. She did have a splitting headache.

“The couch,” she decided.

Dakota followed her over to the couch even though it was just at the other end of the room. Viktoriya was given a blanket before she could ask for one.

She curled into the corner of the couch. The overhead light got turned off, and the room fell into darkness. The only visible light was from a small reading lamp clipped to a book Dakota was reading across the living room. The light barely illuminated her face, her features disappearing with the surrounding dark.

“Let me know if the light bothers you and I'll go upstairs,” she said after a second. Viktoriya realized she must have been staring, and her cheeks warmed despite the darkness around them.

“Can I ask you something?”

Dakota looked up from her book immediately. “Sure. I don't know if I'm allowed to answer it, but you're free to ask.”

Viktoriya hesitated. “How long have we… lived here?”