LOGINThe rink is quiet now. Gabby’s gone home with Mom. Lena’s mom stepped out to take a call. It’s just the two of us sitting on the bench near the ice, our skates still on, the cold air settling around us like a blanket. We didn’t do anything but skate. No drama. No pressure. Just… helping her breathe again.Lena sits beside me, legs pulled up, arms wrapped around them. She looks tired, but lighter than she did an hour ago. “Thank you,” she says softly. “For… all of this.”“You don’t have to thank me,” I say. “I wanted to be here.”She looks down at her hands. “I didn’t think I’d ever get back on the ice.”“You did,” I say. “And you will again.” She gives me a small smile, the kind that hits me right in the chest.We’re quiet for a moment, just listening to the hum of the arena lights. Then the doors slam open. Coach Hartman strides in, face tight, jaw clenched. He’s not looking at me, he’s looking at his phone like it personally offended him. “Coach?” I stand. “What’s going on?”He hold
I’m already annoyed when I walk into the café. Lisa is late. Again. She finally rushes in, hair too perfect, blazer too bright, acting like she’s the busiest person in the world. She slides into the booth across from me, laptop already open.“Well?” I demand. “How did the meeting go?”Lisa winces. Not a good sign. “The coaches… didn’t go for it,” she says carefully. “They’re backing Lena. Hard.”I stare at her. “What do you mean backing Lena? She’s not even here. She’s not competing. She’s—”“Recovering,” Lisa finishes. “And apparently that makes her a sympathetic figure. Coach Ramirez shut down the idea of shifting the narrative toward you.”I clench my jaw. “That was the whole point of this. I need PR to support my side. If they don’t, how am I supposed to get Lena off the team?”Lisa leans in, lowering her voice. “Look, the others may not be on board, but I can still help you. We just need to be… strategic.”I cross my arms. “Meaning?”“I’ll set up an interview with the Channel 7 r
It’s been a few days since Coach Daniels left for Chicago. A few days of pretending I’m fine. A few days of skating on the pond because it’s safe. A few days of avoiding the rink because it isn’t.I haven’t told him I’m planning to compete again. Not the next competition. Not Nationals. I want to. I want to be there. But wanting and believing are two different things.Today… I’m supposed to take the next step, back inside the rink. Mom drives. Mrs. Hart sits in the passenger seat. Gabby is in the back with me, practically vibrating with excitement. I wish I felt even a fraction of that. When we pull into the parking lot, my stomach drops. The building looks bigger than I remember. Colder. Louder. Like it’s waiting for me to fail again.Inside, the air smells like ice and rubber and memories I’m not ready for. We walk toward the rink doors. My hands shake. My breath gets tight. My chest feels like it’s shrinking. Gabby skates out first, fearless, gliding across the ice like she owns it
I walk into the PR conference room expecting a strategy session. What I get is a circus. Coach Ramirez is already seated, arms crossed, jaw tight. He gives me a look that says brace yourself. The PR team is scattered around the table, laptops open, papers everywhere, tension thick enough to choke on.And then there’s her. One PR rep, young, overly polished, too eager, practically glowing as she clicks through a slideshow that makes my blood pressure spike. She’s pushing a narrative. A narrative that throws Lena under the bus. “…and if we position Sabrina as the emotional victim,” she says, “we can redirect public sympathy toward her. It protects the sport’s image and...”“Stop.” My voice comes out sharper than I intended.She blinks at me. “Coach Daniels, I understand this is sensitive...”“No,” I say, stepping forward. “You don’t understand anything if you think sacrificing Lena is an option.”A few heads turn. Ramirez leans back, watching me like he’s waiting for the explosion.I ke
It’s been a day since Coach Daniels left, and I haven’t moved from my bed. I know what I promised him. I know I said I’d keep skating. I know I said I’d try. But right now? I don’t want to do anything.My room is dark except for the sliver of morning light sneaking through the curtains. I’m curled under my blankets, staring at nothing, replaying everything in my head like a loop I can’t shut off.The article. The comments. Sabrina’s press conference. Evan at the pond telling me not to pull away.And me doing it anyway.My dad knocks softly on the door. “Lena? Breakfast is ready.” I don’t answer. A few seconds pass. “Sweetheart… at least come down for a little bit.” Still nothing. Eventually, I hear him sigh and walk away. Guilt twists in my stomach, but not enough to make me move.About an hour later, my door opens again. this time without knocking. My mom. She sits on the edge of my bed and brushes hair off my forehead like I’m five again. “There’s someone here to see you,” she says g
The second Coach Daniels drives off, I’m already pulling out my phone. I don’t care that it’s late. I don’t care that I’m exhausted. Lena needs people around her, even if she won’t let me be one of them right now. Mom answers on the first ring.“Evan? Everything okay?”“No,” I say honestly. “I need a favor.”She hears the strain in my voice and goes quiet. “Tell me.”“I need you to check on Lena. Not push her. Not ask questions. Just… be there. And bring Gabby. Lena likes her. She might let you two in more than she’ll let me right now.”Mom doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. I’ll call her mother too. We’ll make it a Women Supporting Women thing. No pressure. Just company.”Relief hits me so hard I have to sit down on the edge of my bed. “Thank you.”“You’re doing the right thing,” she says gently. “She needs a village right now. And you’re giving her one.”I swallow hard. “Yeah.”After we hang up, I stare at my phone for a long moment, wishing I could text Lena. Wishing she’d let me. Wishi
I can’t stop smiling. I’ve tried, really, I have, but every time my mind drifts, I’m right back in the arena. The roar of the crowd. The energy. The way Evan skated out and immediately looked for me. The way he waved. And the way Sabrina practically launched herself over two girls to blow him a kis
I haven’t been this excited to get out of the house in weeks. I’m standing in front of my mirror, brushing out my hair while my mom sits on the edge of my bed, sipping her coffee and giving me that look. The one that means she’s about to start trouble.“So…” she says casually, “Evan’s mom is joinin
It’s been a few days since the party, and things have settled into this weird, comfortable rhythm. Lena and I text every day now. Not long, deep conversations. just little things. A joke. A picture of the pond. A sarcastic comment about practice. And, of course, her favorite topic: Sabrina.Every t
This night was supposed to be perfect. I planned it all out in my head: Evan would see me at the game. He’d remember Chicago. He’d come over at the party, pull me aside, and finally admit what we both knew, that we had something real. But instead? He ignored me. Not just ignored, avoided me. Like I







