“Define good,” I say dryly. “No more cold shoulder, but I can’t erase what I did.”
Vega’s lips twitch. “Not my circus, Murph. But when they start showing up at your place of work, it usually means there’s hope left.”
I hope so.
The desire hits strong—far stronger than before when Connor had Zev and I over to figure out some sort of plan.
I want to win Grace back. But is there even a chance?
CHAPTER 17
GRACE
The ice feels thinner today. Sometimes I swear the echoes in my skull—metal on metal, skate blades shaving down the months—make it impossible to track the real surface beneath me. But today it feels less like walking on glass and more likebelongingon it.
I float through the curtain of fog that the techs blast before every show, prepping the air for the magic vibe they’re going for. It sticks to my hair and my lashes, adding a dewy shimmer to my cheeks.
The arena’s already humming tonight. Kids in plastic tiaras shriek as I skate out in my dress of champagne silk spangled in stones, so the spotlights make me look more fairy than human. My cue comes right after the Black Swan’s—she launches into her triple axel, lands a little rocky but upright, and the crowd roars. My turn.
I slice in, the familiar spiral building in my thigh and core. The music surges and the Prince glides into frame, tall and so golden-haired he might as well have a built-in halo. Connor. His eyes flick to mine, lightning-bright and aware. His peppermint scent fills the air and draws my instinct and focus toward him and away from the performance at hand.
But we’re professionals, so we do the choreography—hand in hand, a waltz across freshly resurfaced ice. My legs, traitorously, keep wanting to lean into him. I don’t. Not until the next sequence, the throw jump, where I’m supposed to spin and land so perfect in Connor’s arms that it stuns the audience into silence.
The wind-up is flawless. Up, up—I see the world invert—and then I feel it: that familiar sick twist in my ankle, a slip at the moment I’m meant to soar.
Panic flares. On opening night, this is when I crashed.
There’s no time to think. My body screams,“Brace for the boards!”My mind’s already scripting an apology for Hannah.
But Connor doesn’t let me fall. He’s there in an instant. He twists, muscles flexing, and his other arm wraps around me mid-air. The crowd gasps. There’s a flurry of feathers and sequins as he catches my entire weight and skids us into an awkward but upright stop. We are inches from disaster and somehow—impossibly—upright.
He’s breathing hard, face inches from mine. I can feel the shudder all through his frame, but his grip never wavers.
“I got you,” he whispers.
All air has left my lungs, but I manage, “Thank you.”
He nods, blue eyes crinkling at the edges. “Let’s finish this.”
The next number is a blur. I follow the choreography, grateful for the muscle memory. The final act is the rescue scene. Connor, still the Prince, fights his way through the villains to get to me. I’m supposed to play the captive princess, tied in a web of white ribbon and hope.
He breaks through the last “guard” and slides to me, breathless and panting. I’m not acting when my heart thuds loud enough to drown out the piped-in orchestra.
For whatever reason,tonightConnor looks every bit as impressive and princely as he’s costumed up to be.
“Are you ready?” he whispers as he untangles the silk from my wrists.
I nod, barely trusting myself to speak. “Just don’t let go.”
He grins. The cue comes. Connor sweeps me up in his arms and spins us so the skirt of my dress floats around us both like a frosted dome. The audience claps. The house lights dim except for the one spotlight on us for the “kiss” moment.
He lowers me to the ice, both hands on my back. My omega instincts crack open at the edges. Ever since night one, I’ve been able to do this kiss by thinking about literally anything other than Connor. I’ve ignored his scent, his touch, hiseverythingso that I can complete this last moment of the show.
Tonight feels different. His scent impossible to push away.
Connor leans in for the stage kiss, the same we’ve rehearsed and performed dozens of times without any actual feelings involved. I don’t meet him there.
Tonight, I lean back.
