It didn’t take me long at all to get ready, but by the time I was done, only ten minutes had passed. What she wanted to talk about, I had no clue, but I wasn’t going to worry about it. Whatever it was, I’d deal.

Hauling ass down the three different hallways it took to get to the right side of the building, I found the GMs office easily. Knocking on the door, I waited until I heard Coach Lee’s familiar voice call out, “Come in!”

I went in and found that she was alone inside, her cell pressed to her hear. She held up her index finger, and I nodded, taking a seat in the chair closest to the wall.

“This isn’t what I asked for,” the other woman said quietly into the phone, her hand going to cover her face as her voice got even lower to whisper.

Shit, I could tell when someone needed privacy. Digging through my bag, I pulled out my cell phone and took a look at the screen. I had new messages. A group one to be specific. It was from Dad, Jojo, Tali + 2. The one and only other group chat I had. The one that was used the least amount, one that had my dad in it and not my mom. I almost thought about ignoring it until later, but when Coach Lee’s voice got even quieter, I opened it anyway.

The first message was from him.

Dad: I bought my ticket to come visit in September.

Rubes: Yay!

Jojo: What days?

Rubes: You can stay with us.

Dad: OK.

Dad: 15-22

Rubes: Hopefully Jasmine will be here.

Dad: Where is she going?

Jojo: She has a new partner.

Dad: I thought she quit?

Jojo: No…

Rubes: Jasmine wouldn’t quit, Dad. You know that. Sometimes she has competitions in September. I’ll find out.

He thought I quit.

I shook my head and let out a breath before turning my screen off and tossing my phone back into my bag.

He really thought I quit. Of course he would. The last time I had spoken to him, three months ago, I had specifically told him that I was still training… and he had asked, “Why? You don’t have a partner anymore.”

“Are you all right?” Coach Lee asked, drawing me out of my thoughts.

Swallowing back my frustration and what I was pretty sure was bitterness that I wasn’t going to double check, I lifted my head and nodded at the other woman. “I’m fine.” Because I was.

She raised her eyebrows, her face drawn and tired looking. More tired looking than I had ever seen it in the years I’d sneaked glances over in her direction. “Okay,” was all she said with another sigh that said she was anything but.

And even though I kind of didn’t want to, I couldn’t help but ask, sounding how I felt, hesitant as hell, “Are you… okay?”

Her dark eyes flashed upward in surprise before shifting to the side for one moment then coming back to me with a nod of her chin. “Yes,” she lied.

I blinked.

The sigh that came out of her was totally unexpected before she shook her head. “Personal life. Don’t worry about it.”

Yeah, I knew what “don’t worry about it” usually meant.

I didn’t want to worry about it, I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it, but I wasn’t a punk. “We can talk about it.” I spun my bracelet around my wrist and eyed her, secretly hoping she wouldn’t want to. I was the last person in the world to give anyone advice or know what to say in uncomfortable situations. “If you want.”

Her snort—and her smile—caught me totally by surprise. “Oh, Jasmine, that’s sweet, but it’s fine. I’m all right.”

Me? Sweet?

She snorted again, her smile growing just a little wider. “Don’t look like I’m insulting you. I appreciate you asking. I wasn’t expecting it is all,” she said carefully, wiping a hand across her brow. Then she raised her eyebrows. “Let’s talk about you instead, deal?”

Shit.

“Nothing bad,” Coach Lee added, like she could tell I didn’t want to necessarily do that, but knew I had to.

I nodded at her.

She stopped smiling as she leaned into the desk, planting her elbow on it. “First thing, have you opened new social media accounts?”

Fuck me. Of course she’d start there. “No,” I answered her honestly, this weird, almost nauseous feeling lining my stomach for a moment before I shoved that shit back down. I would be fine. Everything would be fine. It would. “I haven’t made time for it yet. I will this weekend.”

The older woman nodded, but there was something hesitant in her expression. “Can I ask you something?”

I hated when people asked me that, but it wasn’t like I could tell her no.

“Why’d you delete your accounts to begin with? I used to follow you on your Picturegram account. You had a good amount of followers on there. Your Facebook page was popular too, but you deleted both of them at the same time,” she went on, her expression watchful.

Damn it.

“That was what? Almost two years ago? You got rid of it while you were still with Paul,” she added like I didn’t know that. Like I hadn’t been the one to go on there and personally cancel those accounts. I didn’t have a publicist or a team of people working behind the scenes of my life. It was just me. And sometimes my sister got on there.

At least it had been my sister until I’d told her to stop because I’d been worried she would catch on to what was going on. She’d freaked out enough the first time I got a creepy message. If she’d seen the rest of them, it would have gotten worse. Maybe my family had never been super overprotective of me, but they had it in them to be. I just didn’t want it or need it. They had better things to do.

And I didn’t want to tell Coach Lee about it either but…

Did I want to start this relationship off by being a fucking liar?

Damn it. I knew the answer. I just didn’t like it.

“I had a situation with a… fan,” I told her, making a face at using the f-word because it should have been more along the lines of “creepy ass stalker.” “It was uncomfortable, and I ended up cancelling my accounts because they were distracting me too much.”

Her forehead had wrinkled and then gotten even more wrinkled the more I spoke.

Shit.

“Did you go to the police?” she finally asked, her forehead still lined.

“There were never any actual threats to me, so there wasn’t anything they would do,” I told her honestly, feeling like an idiot. “Everything was online.” There I did lie, somewhat. When I had first gone to the police, it had been true, but it hadn’t stayed that way.

Her expression still didn’t change at all, but there was something about it—maybe her eyes—that made her look more thoughtful than she had before. “You’ll tell me if there’s a problem?”

I lifted a shoulder and made my face do the closest thing to a smile it could make when it didn’t feel genuine.

Her forehead flattened, and the corners of her mouth twitched just a little. “I can appreciate you not lying to me. At least keep me in the loop if things pick up again. I would rather you be comfortable and safe than being harassed, understand?”

I was going to take that as her telling me she would rather I not have an account than have one where I got sent videos of someone jerking off to pictures I’d posted of myself.

I nodded at Coach Lee, shoving the memory of that away.

She didn’t look like she believed me exactly, but she didn’t call me out on it. “Let me think about it some more, but for now, post basic things around the LC. Once a day is best, make sure they’re good, quality photos. In a few weeks, start to mix the content up. Ivan and I were talking—”

When the hell did they talk? On the phone? I had never seen them whispering to each other or anything.

“—and after what you’ve just said, I think it might be a good idea if we set up an account dedicated to the two of you.”

I blinked at the t-word. “For…?” We were only in this for a year together. I blinked again. “Why?”

Her expression almost made me feel like an idiot. “The more fans like you, the more they’ll root for you, the easier it’ll be to get donations to hopefully cover the rest of your expenses, Jasmine. If you need the assistance—”

I made a face.

“—or even if you don’t,” she threw in, probably seeing my expression, “you might want to think about starting one of those online fundraising pages to cover your other expenses.”

Right. Like that would go well. I could name the people who would donate, and I was related to all of them. I was used to it, but the last thing my rep needed was for people to laugh over no one giving a shit about me.

No fucking thanks. Stripping or the kidney black market it would be.

When I didn’t say anything, she went on. “It’s also a good idea for you two to do a few interviews together in the near future. I was thinking we should invite a reporter or two to the facility and get some footage of you both practicing. We can spin the story nicely. Two rinkmates coming together. It would look great.”

Me and Ivan doing an interview together? Uh….

“A unified front,” she kept going. “Knowing each other for so long and then coming back together—”