I pull out my phone as I run for the parking lot.
Scotty: Thank you. Seriously. I owe you.
I'm in my truck, engine already running, when my phone buzzes. I glance down at the screen before pulling out.
It's from Erik. But the message thread is almost empty—the last text between us is from two years ago, some stupid meme about Coach McKibbon's clipboard.
Two years of silence I enforced.
Erik: No problem, Mr. Stanley Cup. Go get your girl.
He sends me a photo of Dad staring at what must be Henry's tattoo, laughing at it. Henry’s smiling, as are the rest of my teammates.
I grin, tossing my phone into the passenger seat as I pull onto the main road.
The drive feels endless. Every stoplight hits at the worst possible second. I keep flicking my eyes to the clock. If they started on time, Laura’s going up in twenty minutes.
Maybe less.
I finally pull into the lot and shove the truck into park.
Truck off.
Door locked.
No hesitation.
I jog toward the rink entrance, the same place I saw her with her sister for the first time. My heart’s pounding hard, and it has nothing to do with skating or games or pressure.
Laura’s in there somewhere, ready to take that stage and blow everyone out of the water.
And there is no universe where I let myself miss that.
Chapter 23
Noelle:You've got this, sis. Remember—you're not competing with their skating. You're giving them something none of them have. Your voice! They need Princess Blanca to sing and act. That's you.
I smile despite my nerves and type back quickly.
Laura:Thanks. I feel completely out of my depth, but I'm not running away from the challenge this time.
Noelle:Proud of you. Let me know how it goes.
I close out of my messages with Noelle, my hands still shaking a little. She always makes things sound simple, like I could just breathe my way into confidence. I wish it worked like that.
I swallow hard and glance at the time.
Fifteenminutes.
I’ve only got fifteen minutes before I go out there and either make a complete fool of myself or pull off the greatest con of all time.
I take a breath. It doesn’t help. I start to put my phone away when my screen lights again. It’s reminding me of the message I’ve been avoiding since this morning.
1 New Message: Scotty
I already read it across the notification screen hours ago, left it unread, and then proceeded to do absolutely nothing.
The idea of responding to Scotty after everything that happened last night… I don’t know. It’s too much. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to think about his hands on me, his mouth on mine, the way he just declared how much he wanted me without prompting.
