로그인The girls arrive early Friday morning, and for the first time in a long time, I’m actually excited about something.
Coach Daniels and I pull into the rental house driveway just as the van from the airport pulls up. The second the doors open, I’m nearly tackled by two of the younger skaters, Mia and Harper, both talking at the same time, both hugging me so tightly I can barely breathe.
“Lena, we missed you!”
“You look so good!”
“Are you eating enough?”
I laugh, overwhelmed in the best way. “I’m fine. I missed you too.”
Behind them, the others climb out, three more juniors, all smiling, all carrying way too many bags. And then, last as always, Sabrina steps out like she’s descending from a limo instead of a shuttle van.
She looks around Silver Ridge like she’s inspecting her kingdom. I still don’t understand why she came. Especially now that Evan told me he doesn’t even know her. But I’m not starting a fight. Not today.
Coach Daniels claps his hands. “Alright, ladies. Let’s get you settled. This place has three bedrooms, a full kitchen, and enough space for all of you. While you’re here, we’ll keep training on the pond. It’s been good for Lena, and it might be good for some of you too.”
The girls cheer. Sabrina… does not.
She wrinkles her nose. “The pond? Seriously?”
Daniels gives her a look. “Yes. Seriously.”
I hide a smile. Inside, the house is cozy, warm wood floors, big windows, a fireplace. The girls run around claiming beds and squealing over the view of the woods. Sabrina drifts through the rooms like she’s judging the décor. I focus on the younger girls. They’re the reason I’m happy today. They’re the reason I feel… normal. Once everyone settles, I gather them in the living room.
“So,” I say, trying not to grin too hard, “I have a surprise.”
Mia gasps. “What kind of surprise?”
“Evan got us all tickets to Saturday’s game.”
The room erupts.
Harper jumps up and down. “No way!”
“Are they good seats?”
“Is he playing?”
“Can we meet him?”
I laugh. “Yes, yes, and maybe.”
Sabrina steps forward, flipping her hair. “Well, obviously he did. I suggested it.”
The room goes silent. I blink. “You… suggested it?”
She smiles like she’s doing me a favor. “Of course. Evan and I talk all the time.”
I bite my tongue so hard it hurts. The younger girls look confused, glancing between us. I force a smile and move on.
“And after the game,” I continue, “he invited us to a team gathering. Just a casual hangout.”
More cheering. Sabrina beams like she planned the whole thing. I ignore her. Coach Daniels steps in. “Alright, girls. Unpack, rest, and then we’ll head to the pond for a light session. No pressure. Just movement.”
The girls scatter excitedly. Sabrina lingers, giving me a look I can’t quite read, something between smug and suspicious. I turn away, focusing on Mia and Harper instead. They’re the reason I’m doing this. They’re the reason I’m trying. And as I watch them chatter about the game, the pond, the weekend ahead… I feel something I haven’t felt in months. Hope. Even if Sabrina is here. Even if things get messy. Even if I’m still figuring out who I am without the rink. For the first time, I’m not doing it alone, and I liked it so much that I didn’t want to it go.
The girls arrive early Friday morning, and for the first time in a long time, I’m actually excited about something.Coach Daniels and I pull into the rental house driveway just as the van from the airport pulls up. The second the doors open, I’m nearly tackled by two of the younger skaters, Mia and Harper, both talking at the same time, both hugging me so tightly I can barely breathe.“Lena, we missed you!”“You look so good!”“Are you eating enough?”I laugh, overwhelmed in the best way. “I’m fine. I missed you too.”Behind them, the others climb out, three more juniors, all smiling, all carrying way too many bags. And then, last as always, Sabrina steps out like she’s descending from a limo instead of a shuttle van.She looks around Silver Ridge like she’s inspecting her kingdom. I still don’t understand why she came. Especially now that Evan told me he doesn’t even know her. But I’m not starting a fight. Not today.Coach Daniels claps his hands. “Alright, ladies. Let’s get you sett
It’s been a few days since lunch with Lena, and I’m still thinking about it. Not in the stressed, overthinking way I expected. In the good way. The kind of way that sneaks up on you when you’re not paying attention. She stops to talk to me every morning now, just a few minutes before she heads to the pond and I head into practice. Sometimes it’s about training. Sometimes it’s about her parents. Sometimes it’s nothing at all.But it feels… easy. Natural. Like we’re finding our way back to something we lost. And I can’t wait to see where it goes. I’m also trying to figure out who the hell Sabrina is. Every time I think about that lunch, about Lena laughing so hard she nearly spilled her coffee, I get this weird mix of amusement and dread. Amusement because Lena’s laugh is still one of my favorite sounds. Dread because apparently some stranger thinks we’re dating. I still don’t know her. At all.Practice ends, and Mason jogs up beside me as we head toward the parking lot. “So,” he says,
I didn’t expect lunch to feel like this. I thought it would be stiff, awkward, full of long pauses and polite small talk. And it was awkward at first—both of us fumbling with menus we didn’t need, pretending to read them while sneaking glances at each other.But somewhere between ordering and the food arriving, something shifted.It felt… easy. Like high school again. Like before everything got complicated. Like before he left for college and I left for the city and we both pretended we didn’t care. I didn’t realize how much I missed this. Missed him. And I definitely didn’t realize that stupid crush I had on him back then wasn’t as dead as I thought. I try to ignore that part.“So,” Evan says, leaning back in his chair, “how’s training going?”I take a breath. “Better. I’m getting stronger. More consistent. But I still have… moments.”“Panic attacks?” he asks gently.I nod. “Small ones. Not as bad as before. The pond helps. It’s quiet. No pressure.”He nods like he understands more t
I’ve been replaying that conversation with Lena for days. The way she stood there in the tunnel, nervous but trying to be brave. The way she thanked me, quiet, sincere, like she wasn’t sure she had the right to. The way her eyes kept flicking away from mine, like looking at me too long might burn. It was awkward. Painfully awkward. But it was also the first real conversation we’ve had in years. And now I can’t stop thinking about her.I keep catching myself looking for her truck when I pull into the arena. I keep glancing toward the pond on my early mornings, wondering if she’s out there skating. I keep thinking about how small she looked in that lobby, surrounded by cameras and questions she didn’t deserve. I want to talk to her again. I want to start over. I want to know her again. But I have no idea how to do that without screwing it up. So when I see her in the parking lot a few days later, hair pulled back, bag slung over her shoulder, looking like she’s trying to blend into the
Of course they’re talking about Lena again. They always are. I sit on the bench at the training rink, arms crossed, watching the younger girls practice. They’re giggling, whispering, glancing at me like I’m some kind of celebrity. I should be flattered. I should be enjoying this. But all I can think about is how everything was supposed to be different. Lena Merritt was finally out of the way. My plan worked. Perfectly.She never saw it coming, the loose screw on her blade, the one I nudged just enough. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to make her unstable. Just enough to make her fall.She was always too perfect. Too graceful. Too loved. I couldn’t beat her one‑on‑one, not with the way the coaches worshipped her. But I could replace her. And I did. Or I should have.But instead of focusing on me, the one who’s still here, still skating, still winning, everyone is wringing their hands over poor, broken Lena. Coach Ramirez keeps asking for updates. The staff whispers about her “men
I don’t even make it through the front door before I hear my name.“…Merritt...Lena Merritt...”The TV is on in the living room, volume just loud enough to carry down the hall. My mom must’ve left it playing. I drop my bag by the door and step closer, heart already sinking.It’s the post‑game press conference.And there she is.The reporter from the lobby.Her voice is sugary‑sweet in that way people use when they’re about to say something awful.“Evan, witnesses say the fan was just talking to her. Why did you react so strongly?”I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. “Sports reporter,” I mutter. “Right.”She sounds more like a gossip blogger fishing for drama.I sink onto the couch, arms crossed tight. My stomach twists as I listen.Evan sits at the table, jaw tight, eyes sharp. He looks irritated, but controlled. More controlled than I expected after last night.“We grew up together,” he says when she asks if he knows me.My breath catches. He didn’t have to say that. Then she pushes aga







