Black Ice
I got up, feeling the extra weight of my frustration making my movements slow and careful.
"You're not fine. You're vibrating," John said, his eyes narrowing.
He leaned against the squat rack, his expression shifting from annoyed to suspicious.
"It’s about that janitor, isn't it? The kid from the locker room."
The mention of him made something in me snap.
It wasn't a clean break; it was a complete breakdown of the walls I had built for years to stay focused on the ice.
"His name is Toby," I growled.
John’s eyebrows shot up. "Toby? You even got his name? Alan, listen to me. That kid’s weird. He’s a ghost. He stays alone for a reason. Don’t get involved."