I WAS PRETTY positive I hadn’t imagined the words coming out of the wonderful doctor’s mouth, but I needed to be sure.
“So… I’m cleared to skate again?” I asked her. Because I had to be sure. I needed to be sure.
The doctor nodded, smiling, looking at me like she understood how much was hanging in the balance and how much her words would mean to me. “You’re as healed as you can be.”
Excitement, relief, and nerves all barreled through me. But I had to ask. Just one more time. “For sure?”
The doctor’s smile grew wider as her eyes slipped to the side briefly before saying, “Yes.”
A hand landed on my shoulder, rough, giving it a shake I could feel to my teeth, and I couldn’t help but beaming up at Ivan. He already had his other hand at my side, and I smacked my palm against his, linking my fingers through his and giving him a shake. His head moved forward, his chin landing on my shoulder, cheek to cheek. His chest to part of my back.
“We’ve got this, Meatball,” he said, hugging me, telling me with his body that we were going to be able to do Skate North America, the next competition we—he—had been invited to.
We were going to be able to do it.
We were going to get another chance.
