Wanted By the Champion by Alyson Archer EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Alyson Archer
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Alex
“You could just retire. It’s not like you wouldn’t have options. You could
move into coaching, or choreography, for example.” My manager Kurt
looks at me, and I shake my head.
“No.” I shift in my chair. It creaks beneath my weight, the sound loud in the
quiet of Kurt’s tiny office. “I’m not retiring. That might be what’s right for
Charlotte, but it’s not what’s right for me.” I’m only thirty-two. I’m not ready
to retire. I don’t say this out loud, but I don’t need to. Everyone here knows
how I feel.
Scott, one of my long-time coaches, nods, his eyes on me. “That’s what I
was expecting you to say.”
Case in point.
Besides, if I retired, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I’m not ready
to hang up my skates and become a coach or a choreographer. I’ve been
skating since I was eight years old. The plan had been to learn to skate and
then take up hockey. Instead, figure skating had grabbed a hold of me and
never let go, and I’ve been competing for over twenty years.
Now I’m Alex McIntyre, three-time world champion and Olympic silver
medalist— accolades achieved and accomplished with my pairs partner,
Charlotte, who has decided to call it a career and start a family with her
husband. And as much as losing her sucks, I don’t begrudge her the right to
live her life. Skating at our level is consuming. It takes over your entire life—
your time, your body, your mind. It’s an all or nothing game to compete
against the best skaters in the world, and I could tell her heart wasn’t in it
anymore last season. So, when she told me she was done, it’s not like I was
shocked.
Debra, my other coach, tilts her head, clearing her throat softly to bring me
back to the present moment. “You could take a season off, decide what you
want to do. You don’t have to make any big decisions today.”
I shake my head again. “I’m not taking the season off.”
“That’s what I was expecting you to say,” Scott says again with a wry twist
of his lips.
Of course it’s what he was expecting me to say, because he knows me. He
knows that I’m driven and that competing fuels me. Winning is the cherry on
the sundae, but the good stuff, the stuff that I live for is the grueling training
sessions and the competitions and always striving to be better. Without that, I
don’t know who I am.
So, no. I am not retiring, and I am not taking the season off. Fuck that.
Pushing a hand through my hair, I blow out a breath. It feels as though the
office walls are closing in on me, that there’s not enough oxygen in this room
for the four of us. The air is thick and close. I trace the toe of my sneaker over
a small stain on the gray carpet.
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