“You are.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
I could tell him a hundred things. About his shoulder or his timing. About the way he keeps glancing at the doors like this whole setup might swallow him whole. About how his joy is so obvious, it’s contagious.
Instead, I tap the side of his head. “Your takeoff.”
He groans. “Of course.”
“You’re trying to jump out of your skin,” I say. “Stay in it.”
He watches me for a beat, then his expression shifts into something quieter.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay,” I echo, because repetition is a spell. Sometimes all I can do is say the calm words until my body believes them.
He pushes off again, then pauses. “Can I do one full run?”
I take him in—the steadier hands, the looser back, the focus settling where it should.
“One,” I say. “Then you’re done.”
His grin flashes. “Deal.”
This time he commits. Arms sharper. Speed cleaner. The program starts to look like itself, not a rehearsal. He hits the first element with a confidence that doesn’t tip into arrogance. He lands and keeps moving, not checking for my reaction and not searching the boards for any type of validation.
Pride hits my chest, fast and fierce. I swallow it down into something manageable.
Rodrigo finishes and glides to the boards, breath quick, cheeks flushed with cold. He looks at me like he wants to ask everything at once:Did it work? Did it matter? Do I belong here? Are people watching me?
I nod once. “That was you.”
His eyes soften. He looks away, not wanting to be seen too directly in his rawest state. “Yeah,” he says, pretending he doesn’t care. “I know.”
He skates off for a loose lap, and I let my gaze follow him without pressing, without bruising the moment by searching for what went wrong.
This is the easy part. The ice is honest.
The rest of this summer won’t be.
CHAPTER 2
ISABELLA
I,Isabella Pierce, also sometimes referred to asthe Ice Princess, am honest enough with myself to admit this: I was never supposed to want anything different.
Different is a luxury. Different is what you chase when no one has mapped your life out in advance. For me, the map has existed since I was small enough to be lifted onto the ice in my skates, my parents’ hands steady at my waist like they were placing a crown on the flat surface.
Lake Jasper didn’t just teach me how to jump. It taught me how to be watched.
It also taught me how everything runs when no one is watching.
The schedules, the staffing, the quiet negotiations over ice time and resources. Who gets the early sessions, who gets the physio blocks. Who gets seen first.
I run all of that now.
