Life on the Edge (9 page)

I couldn’t be sure, but I thought his eyes perked up.

He tugged his fleece jacket over his head. “I guess we’d better get going.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wake up this early just to miss it.”

I grabbed my purse and keys from the coffee table, and we walked across the yard to my car. Not surprisingly, no other vehicles traveled the dark, twisting highway to the cliffs. I rolled down the windows to let in the crisp morning air.

After turning onto a small side road, I drove a short distance uphill and parked. Only pale light from the awakening sky lit the area. I popped open the trunk to retrieve the jacket I thought was in there and soon discovered wasn’t. The air I’d found refreshing during the drive was now downright chilly. I shivered, and Sergei slipped off his fleece, handing it to me.

“Here, take my jacket.”

“Then you’ll be cold,” I protested.

He smiled. “I’ll survive.”

As I passed the soft fleece over my head, the jacket enveloped me with Sergei’s body heat. It was like experiencing our hug on my terrace all over again. The garment swallowed my petite frame but somehow felt as if it fit perfectly.

I guided us through the brush until we reached a familiar patch of grass and sand high on a bluff.

“Here’s the spot.” I sat down on the cool grass. Straight ahead, the dark outline of the cliffs rose above Vineyard Sound.

Sergei sat beside me, stretching out his long legs. I was keenly aware of every move he made. Squinting at my watch in the darkness, I said, “It shouldn’t be too long from now.”

I’d never realized how quiet the area was. Waves swishing onto the beach below provided the only sound. My usual trips to the cliffs included various members of my family cracking jokes over their thermoses of coffee and turning the outing into a party.

This was no family party.

Sergei pressed a button on his camera, and it came alive with a beep. “I forgot to take a picture of all of us with the kids yesterday.”

“They were so much fun.” I tucked one leg under me. “I loved being back at that rink. I used to train there whenever I came here for vacation.”

“Training while on vacation–that’s dedication.”

“It usually wasn’t hard-core training. I just hate being off the ice for more than a day. It’s like I need that rush . . . that feeling of gliding and total freedom.”

“I know exactly what you mean. It’s how I knew I had to coach. I have to be on the ice every day or I feel lost.”

“Yes!” I shifted slightly to face Sergei. “People ask me how I can stand to be in a cold rink most of the day, but they don’t understand it’s home to me and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Sergei observed me with the tiniest hint of a smile. One lonely bird chirped in the distance as a faint glow of light peeked over the eastern horizon.

“That’s why you’re so good,” he said. “You have that passion that can’t be taught.”

The way ‘passion’ rolled off his tongue gave me goose bumps. I didn’t stop to think before I said, “You have it, too.”

Sergei’s camera beeped and shut off, pulling his eyes from me. He turned it on and stared at the sky. “Looks like the sun’s starting to come up.”

I plucked a blade of grass and twisted it around my finger, wishing I could wind it around my heart and squeeze out the maddening feelings. Turning my attention to the sky, I watched the streaks of orange become brighter, reflecting in the water and illuminating the rocky cliffs. With each new beam of light, the touches of red, orange, and yellow in the clay grew more visible.

Sergei concentrated on shooting picture after picture of the scenery. We remained silent until Sergei put his camera down and shook his head.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

He peered at the small LCD screen on the back of his camera and scrolled through the photos. “These came out great. Look at this one.”

He angled the camera, and I scooted closer to him. Reaching over his arm, I pointed to the cliffs on the screen. “The clay is so red there.”

“It’s really beautiful.” He looked up at me.

The sun continued its spectacular rise, but our eyes didn’t move from one another. In the dawning light, I saw the longing in Sergei’s gaze. No one had ever looked at me that way. I was as still as the morning around me, but inside my heart raced.

Sergei’s eyes flickered down to my mouth and then met mine again. Slowly, the narrow space between us disappeared. Sergei bent his head, and our lips brushed, seeking each other tentatively. I wanted more, needed more.

Sergei answered, sealing his mouth to mine with a soft intensity. Every nerve ending in my body hummed. I parted my lips, tasting the minty sweetness of Sergei’s warm breath.

Kissing him was more intoxicating than I could’ve dreamed. I never wanted this feeling to end. Never wanted–

Sergei broke away, his breathing ragged. “We can’t . . . I shouldn’t have . . .”

My head reeled, and I stared at Sergei, unable to speak. He pushed his hand through his hair, tousling the short brown locks.

“
Em
, we can’t do this.” He rose to his feet.

The exhilaration I’d felt moments before was quickly replaced by a heavy awareness. It sat on my chest, threatening to smother me. Taking a deep breath, I stood up but couldn’t bring myself to face Sergei. I looked toward the cliffs, their colorful beauty now a haze.

“I know,” I croaked.

“I’m so sorry. I really screwed up,” he said, his voice weighed down with regret.

My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. “It wasn’t just you.”

He stayed quiet and motionless for a few moments before turning toward the road. “We should go.”

I kept my head down until we reached the car, and I glued my eyes to the highway. Sergei and I didn’t speak a word the entire drive. I went swiftly ahead of him into the house, and halfway up the stairs realized I was still wearing his jacket. I jerked it over my head, freeing myself from his scent, and draped it over the banister.

I crept through the dark bedroom and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door as quietly as I could. The tears I’d been holding in escaped my eyes, and I sank onto the floor beside the tub. Burying my face against my knees, I cried harder than I ever had.

Chapter Six

A tentative knock tapped on the bathroom door, and I lifted my head. Surrounded by darkness, I couldn’t see my reflection in the mirror but imagined I must’ve been a tear-stained, sniveling mess.

“
Em
? Are you in there?” Aubrey asked.

On my knees, I slid over to the door and let Aubrey in. She flipped on the light and gaped at me.

“What happened?” She dropped beside me onto the tile floor.

I wiped my face with the back of my trembling hand and gave a hoarse reply, “We kissed.”

“Who kissed?” Her bleary eyes sprang alert. “You and Sergei?”

I responded with a numb nod.

“Where were Chris and Marley?”

“They didn’t go,” I whispered.

We sat in silence as Aubrey’s mouth hung open but no sound came out. Finally, she rubbed my shoulder and said, “Tell me what happened.”

My chest heaved from a weighty breath. “The sunrise was so beautiful. We were talking, and then everything just . . . stopped, and we were kissing, and it felt so right. But then . . .” The lump in my throat strangled me, and I had to swallow before continuing. “Then he pushed me away.”

“What did he say?” There was an edge to the concern in her voice.

“He said he was sorry and we can’t do this. Which I know, but . . .” I squeezed my eyes shut to halt the tears, but they refused to be stopped.

“I’m so sorry,
Em
.” Aubrey slipped her arm around me. “Sergei shouldn’t have let it get this far. He shouldn’t have gotten this close to you.”

“I’m to blame, too. I just couldn’t stay away from him.” I sniffed. “I knew I was falling deeper and deeper, but I couldn’t help it.”

“He’s the coach, though. He needs to set the example.”

Hugging my knees to my chest, I closed my eyes, their lashes further dampening my face. Aubrey tightened her hold around my shoulders.

“I think it might be good this happened,” she said. “Now, hopefully Sergei’s realized he needs to back off.”

I shook my head. “It’s not good. Before, at least I didn’t know what I was missing. Now that I’ve kissed him, I know how amazing it feels.”

“You’ll get past this,
Em
. It’s hard right now, but I promise it’ll get better.”

“If I didn’t have to see Sergei every day, I might believe that.”

“Do you think he’s going to try to talk to you about this?”

“I hope not.” I drew my hair back and dried my face again. “I know all the reasons the kiss was a mistake. I really don’t feel like hearing him say it.”

Aubrey understood and helped me avoid Sergei the rest of the morning. I skipped breakfast and merely exchanged glances with him as we left the house. On the ferry, Aubrey and I stayed in my car to nap during the forty-five minute ride, but I couldn’t sleep. I could still taste Sergei’s mouth and feel its gentle pressure on mine. I’d been kissed only a few times in my life and never with the level of emotion I’d felt from Sergei. Our connection hadn’t been just between our lips but somewhere much deeper.

I fidgeted and tried to think of anything except Sergei–the triple loop throw I’d struggled with at practice the past week, the spaghetti dish I needed to make for potluck dinner at church, the pile of laundry waiting at home. But my mind always found its way back to the cliffs. Back to the moment when everything changed.

****

The comforting smell of fresh ice welcomed me to the rink Monday morning. The smooth, clean surface beckoned me, but I had to get loose first. Chris waved as he jogged out of the locker room and around the rink.

After depositing my bag near the bleachers, I followed Chris’s path and set off on an easy run. My eyes zipped around the room, stopping when they fell on the object of my search. Sergei stood at the foot of the stairs, talking to Viktor. An all too familiar tightness wrenched my throat. I jogged back and forth on the far side of the rink, dodging any possible confrontation.

An hour later, Chris and I stood on the ice, warmed up and ready for our lesson. Sergei glided before us, and I fiddled with the cap on my water bottle. Normally, I liked the fact he came out on the ice to teach, but today I wanted the boards and one hundred extra feet between us.

“I want to go step by step through the loop,” he said. “Something was off last week.”

Chris took my hand, and I set my bottle on the boards. Sergei watched as we executed a single rotation of the throw.

“Chris, I think you’re gripping
Em’s
waist too high.”

He skated over to show us, but instead of taking charge in his standard manner, he hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck before approaching me. Luckily, Chris had bent to tighten his skate lace and missed the awkward moment.

Standing behind me, Sergei put his hands on my hips. All my muscles tensed up, fighting the emotions which needed to be released.
Pull yourself together. You have to push through this.

Sergei took in a deep breath as his long fingers flexed against my leotard. I exhaled with him and commanded myself,
Focus on the jump,
Em
. Focus on the jump.

We went through the motion of the takeoff a few times, Sergei assisting me into the air. With each repetition, I did feel more secure. Chris made sure he was comfortable with the change, and he and I performed a couple of doubles before attempting triples. My rotation was exactly vertical, and I landed all our attempts with ease.

For the rest of the session, we worked on sections of our long program. Every time Sergei touched me, I forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand and to see him as a faceless being, simply a voice of instruction.