Dropping Ava off at rehearsal had become one of my favorite little rituals, not because of the chaos inside the community center, but because of the expression on her face when she walked in. She didn’t cling to my hand anymore. She scanned the room for her mentor, for Leo, for the kids she was slowly, carefully letting into her orbit.
She was blooming.
And as I walked out into the hallway, tote bag over my shoulder, something in me felt like it was blooming too.
The air outside was warm with that spring sweetness, a little damp, a little bright, full of promise. I took a breath and headed toward the coffee shop, letting my thoughts wander.
Things at home were . . . complicated.
Mom barely looked at me this morning. She’d managed to be cold and polite at the same time, which was honestly an Olympic-level feat. I didn’t have the bandwidth to unpack how much that still hurt, how much I still wanted her approval even though I knew better.
But everything outside that house?
Everything else felt like it was falling into place.
Ava was thriving.
My sketchbook was filling up with ideas that actuallyexcitedme.
Alex made me feel . . . warm. Wanted. Hopeful.
And every time Belle hinted that I should join the Grimm Reapers?—
Well. That thought made warmth spread all the way down to my toes.
Belle had mentioned it in her usual dramatic fashion:“You’ve got the heart of a Reaper, babe. You just don’t know it yet.”
I’d laughed her off. Because joining a roller derby team? Me? Eleanor Tremaine?
It felt ridiculous.
But . . . also . . .
Somewhere deep inside, a part of me whispered:What if it’s not ridiculous? What if it’s something you could actually do?
I’d watched those women skate. They were fierce, powerful, and unapologetic. I’d felt something light up inside me that I hadn’t felt since I was a teenager sneaking off to punk shows with Ethan, blue hair dye staining my fingers, unapologetically myself.
Roller derby was wild and loud.
My mother would probably faint if she discovered I was even thinking about it.
Maybe itwasme.
Or maybe it was the version of me I was slowly rediscovering. The version I had buried somewhere under grief, expectations, and the never-ending pressure to be a perfect mother and daughter.
As I pushed open the door to the coffee shop, the bell chimed overhead. The familiar scent of espresso and baked sugar washed over me.
I wasn’t the girl I used to be. But maybe I was becoming someone new.
And maybe that someone could skate.
The moment I stepped into the coffee shop, the familiar warmth wrapped around me, the hum of the espresso machine, Belle arguing with the pastry case, the soft clatter of mugs. It felt like a tiny safe haven carved out of my chaotic life.
Then my eyes landed onourtable.
And there he was.
Alex Prince.
