But today, on this rattling train with strangers pressed around me, I was seeing again.
I lifted my phone and took a photo of the kid’s sneakers—bright orange against the scuffed floor.
It wasn’t much. But maybe it counted as something.
I had promised Sabrina I would try. My mom and Avery were invested too—both of them watching me with that careful hope that made me want to disappear and do better in equal measure.
Avery had been surprisingly relaxed about letting me crash in his spare room and basically mooch off his hospitality. I think our time apart had softened something between us. That and watching me starve myself half to death and disappear into a rehab facility for three months.
We didn’t talk about it—that wasn’t how we operated. But I could see the relief in his eyes every time I ate a full meal in front of him.
That night, we ordered dinner from the Thai place down the street. Avery ordered enough food for a family of six. Hana came over to watch a movie with us—some action thing with too many explosions that Avery had picked.
Whatever awkwardness had happened during Sabrina’s visit seemed forgotten. Hana settled on the couch with her feet inAvery’s lap and he massaged them absentmindedly while the movie played, his eyes on the screen like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My brother was still an idiot in some regards.
I caught Hana’s eye at one point and she gave me a small smile—somewhere between amused and resigned. I raised an eyebrow. She shrugged.
At least someone else saw it.
I sank back into the couch, feeling warm and sleepy and let the noise of the film wash over me. For a few hours, no one asked me to be extraordinary. No one asked me to be anything at all.
It wasn’t happiness.
But it was… quiet.
That felt like progress.
???
The following day, I returned to the Frost training facility.
I preferred early mornings when the rink was empty, before the hockey players showed up and the energy shifted. I liked the solitude. The stillness. The way I could pretend, for a little while, that I was the only person in the world.
I was doing my warmups—edge work, crossovers, lazy spirals to stretch out my hips—when the door opened.
Derek.
He was wearing a dark grey henley that clung to his chest and his biceps and a black cap turned backwards on his head. It had no reason to look that good.
He didn’t take a seat in the back row. Instead, he stood by the boards, his muscular arms resting on top of the plastic divider, watching me with those steady dark eyes.
Not wanting to seem overeager, I continued with my usual routine. A few single jumps to warm up my legs. A sit spin that I held until my thigh burned. A step sequence I’d been tinkering with, something new that didn’t feel like punishment.
I could feel him watching the whole time. It made me skate better. Made me want to show off, just a little.
I stopped for a water break when it was almost time for him to leave for weight training. Skated over to the boards with practiced nonchalance.
He handed me my water bottle before I could reach for it.
“You look more relaxed,” he said.
“Is that so?” I took a sip.
“Must be the sex.”
I nearly choked on my water. Recovered quickly, raising an eyebrow. “Not the coaching?”
