And somehow . . . everything settled.
The noise, the lights, the crowd, the movement, it all came together around us.
Like I was finally moving forward again instead of just standing still.
The whistle blew, sharp and electric, and the crowd roared like it had been waiting all day to come to life.
This time, when I watched, I actually understood what I was seeing. The pack tightened. The blockers formed walls. Mel lined up as a jammer, knees bent, eyes sharp, waiting for her moment.
Then she was gone, diving, weaving, slipping through bodies like water, finding cracks in stone. I leaned forward without even realizing it, heart in my throat.
Belle came in fast on one of the opposing blockers, a clean, brutal hip check that sent the woman sprawling to the floor. The crowd exploded with cheers, and I laughed out loud, adrenaline buzzing through me.
Alex leaned in close, his mouth near my ear. “How do you feel?”
“Like I should be out there,” I said.
“Are you ready?” he asked softly.
“I can’t wait,” I told him, and I meant it with everything in me.
We watched together as the game surged on, hits and speed and strategy and joy, and for a moment, everything felt right with the world.
The bout rolled on in a blur of motion and noise, the music thundering between jams as skaters circled and slammed and fought for every inch of the track. The Cataclysm tightened their formations, locking arms and creating walls that looked impossible to break until Mel slipped through anyway, grinning as she racked up points. Belle and Robin knocked blockers aside like they were clearing a path with pure will, and the crowd fed off every hit, every cheer rising higher and louder.
By the final whistle, the scoreboard glowed with a Reapers victory, and the whole rink felt like it was vibrating with celebration. I found myself clapping and shouting along with everyone else, breathless and giddy, already aching for the day I’d be out there with them.
The bar next door was already roaring when Alex and I walked in.
Cherry Bomb blasted from the jukebox, loud and wild and perfect, and both teams had spilled into the place like a living, laughing tide. Skaters were here, bodies pressed close, beer bottles raised in victory and survival.
The second we stepped inside, someone whooped.
“There she is!” Mel yelled, and suddenly the Grimm Reapers were cheering like I’d just won the bout myself.
My face heated, but in a good way, the kind that came from being seen and welcomed. Alex’s hand was warm in mine, steady and proud, and I felt like I was glowing from the inside out.
Belle waved me over, dragging me into a knot of sweaty, laughing bodies. “Get over here, rookie,” she said. “This is one of the Cataclysm’s blockers. Try not to be too intimidated.”
The woman grinned at me. “Oh yeah, I’m terrifying.”
I laughed, nerves fizzing with excitement. “I’m Eleanor. I just made the Reapers. Please don’t murder me in two weeks.”
“No promises,” she said, raising her glass.
We clinked drinks, easy and bright. I didn’t feel like I was watching life happen from the outside. It was a feeling I could get used to.
We left the bar before it got too late, even though every part of me wanted to stay wrapped in that loud, laughing, bright world forever. Ava had had a hard morning, and I knew she’d need me grounded and present when we got back.
But something in me had shifted.
That bubble of life I’d stepped into the first time I’d walked into a derby rink hadn’t just stayed intact, it had expanded, filling me up until I felt like I might float right out of my skin.
I was buzzing. Warm. Alive in a way I hadn’t been in years.
The car hummed beneath us as Alex drove, the road stretching out ahead, dark and open. The radio played low, something dreamy and soft, but I was too aware of him beside me to really hear it. His arm was relaxed, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near my leg.
I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.
