I take a deep breath.
Then another.
The opening notes play through the speakers, and I close my eyes, letting the music wash over me. When I open them again, I'm not looking at the crowd anymore.
I'm looking at Scotty.
And I sing.
My voice starts soft but builds with each line, filling the arena with a clarity and power I didn't know I had in me. Every note is perfect, every word clear and strong.
This is what I'm good at.
This is what I was made to do.
Not skating. Not trying to be something I'm not.
This.
I close my eyes for half a beat, let the music settle in my chest, and when I open them again, every ounce of doubt I walked in with leaves me.
I sing.
Really sing.
As I reach the final lines, something inside me breaks open in the best possible way. My voice climbs higher, stronger, pulling all the messy pieces of me along with it. Every ounce of disappointment from the audition, every shaky breath, every moment I spent convinced I wasn’t enough—it all pours out of me, stripped down and rebuilt into something that feels better than any high I’ve ever experienced.
My throat burns. My chest aches, but the notes keep rising.
The high ones lift out of me like a release, like letting go and finally understanding I was never as small as I feared. The emotion climbs with them, raw, bright, alive, and for the first time since last week, I feel like myself again.
The last note leaves my lips and hangs in the air, floating out over the ice.
And for one perfect, suspended moment…there’s nothing.
No noise.
No movement.
Just silence.
I look at Scotty and his teammates. They’re all staring at me with their mouths open.
Did I fuck it up?
But then the silence shatters into a tidal wave of sound. People are cheering, clapping, and screaming my name. It’s loud enough to vibrate through the ice, loud enough to rattle inside my ribs. For a second, I just stand there, stunned, letting the noise crash over me. Letting myself believe it’s for me.
I blink against the bright lights, the blur of faces, the whirlwind of it all. My hands shake. My lungs feel too small for my body. It’s overwhelming and unreal and dizzying in a way that makes my knees threaten to give out.
Through the cheering, I find Scotty again. He's not clapping with his gloves on like the rest of his teammates. He's just standing there, watching me like I’m the only person in the arena worth looking at it. His eyes sparkle with pride. Pure, undiluted pride.
The production assistant appears to guide me off the ice, but I can barely feel my legs as I walk. The crowd is still cheering, and I hear someone shout, “That was incredible!”
Right before I head off the ice, Scotty meets me. His eyes are still lit with that fierce, unshakable pride. He pulls off one glove, reaches for my hand, and brings it to his lips.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, voice low enough that only I can hear it. “You were unbelievable.”
Heat floods my cheeks. My heart trips.
