They’re locked on something behind me.
Landon.
And even though he stays silent, I see that he’s not mad. He’s…calm. Accepting.
“Did I wrap you around my finger or something?” I tease, trying to ease the ache in my chest. “Why do you feel so calm?”
He shifts his eyes back to me with a small smile. “We have a surprise for you after practice. Nothing’s ruining that.”
“A surprise?” My brows lift. “Does this have anything to do with you disappearing every day for the last couple of weeks?”
He pulls me in for a hug, my whole body going willingly, my skates gliding effortlessly over the floor. I melt into him, his scent washing over me, steady and sure. I love that he’s stopped wearing his blockers, because he smells so good to me, a new sort of home.
“Maybe,” he says against my hair. “You’re just lucky you’re skating first…” he trails off, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “…because I’m not sure how much walking you’ll be doing after.”
A shiver rolls down my spine.
My perfume spikes before I can stop it, giving me away completely.
“I think I like those kinds of surprises,” I murmur, breath catching in my throat.
Graham’s arms stay around me for a beat longer, then he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
“Skate your heart out, sweetheart,” he says, brushing his thumb along my jaw. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
The knot in my throat tightens for an entirely different reason, but I nod, forcing a small smile before I turn away.
I roll over to the bench, grab my helmet, and slip it on, tightening the chin strap with fingers that don’t feel entirely steady. The click of it grounding me. Familiar. Necessary. Igrab my mouthguard, shove it into place, and push back onto the rink as if I can skate away from the mess in my chest.
The team’s already circling lazily, warming up.
But I still feel Landon watching me. Still here. Still calling out corrections to the team.
I dive into the first few laps with extra force, the wheels buzzing beneath me, the motion cutting through the chaos. But it’s not enough to block him out.
He doesn’t look away. His gaze stays locked on me, steady, reverent, as if I’m something worth keeping. Every pass sends a prickle racing over my skin, sharp with awareness.
His eyes are soft. Too soft.
And when I catch the flicker of pride there—his pride, aimed at me, as if he belongs here, with me—my breath snags hard in my chest.
I stumble, barely a hitch in my stride, but enough that Daisy notices.
She coasts up beside me, elbowing my arm lightly. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I manage, breathless for more reasons than one.
She doesn’t push, just squints toward Landon. “If he keeps staring at you like that, I’m gonna throw my skate at his face.”
I laugh—too sharp, too fast—but it works. I find my rhythm again. We drop into drills. Then plays. Then a full-on scrimmage.
Coach barks orders. Knox plays a brutal offense with Cheese blocking hard. While Twinkle-toes hoards the jammer cap as though her life depends on it. The tension lingers, but the sweat and contact and roar of skates on polished concrete make it easier to breathe.
Landon doesn’t leave. And I don’t look for him. But I feelhim. Even when I block. When I spin. When I race past the line with my team shouting behind me.
We’re winding down, lungs burning, legs shaking, grins splitting our faces when Coach blows the whistle.
“That’s it!” she shouts, clapping once. “Three more practices, then we’re on the damn plane to Nationals. So keep your heads on and your asses in gear. The next three practices will be brutal. No slowing down this close to the finish line.”
