My breath shakes.
He meant it.
God help me, I know he did.
I turn away before he can see the way that shakes me—not out of fear, but out of something else I’m not ready to name.Something dark and warm and terrifying in its own right.
I busy myself with reorganizing the shoulder pads and wraps on the counter.My hands move automatically.My brain is somewhere else entirely.
Last night’s envelope.
The handwritten threat.
The text messages.
You shouldn’t be around them.
You don’t belong on the ice.
You’ll fall again.
The words press into me like cold fingers.
And now the way Atlas looked at me—like he could feel every ounce of panic I’m trying to bury—it makes the fear harder to hide.
I hear footsteps behind me.
Finn.
I know it before he speaks.His energy is softer, warmer, more careful.It brushes up against my nerves like a blanket instead of a blade.
“You okay?”he asks quietly.
I force a breath.“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
It’s not an accusation.
Just a fact.
Like saying the sky is blue or Atlas hits hard.
Finn steps beside me, close enough that our arms almost touch.He leans a hip against the counter, watching me like I might shatter if he blinks.
“You came in different today,” he says.“Quieter.”
“I’m allowed to be tired.”
“Not like that.”
I turn, meeting his eyes.Warm brown.Too honest.
He softens further.“Harper, yesterday you walked in like you were ready to fight the entire roster if you had to.Today...you’re somewhere else.”
My throat tightens painfully.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper.
