My spine locked. Every muscle in my body went rigid, bracing against the blow.
I didn't look at him. Couldn't. If I did, I'd shatter right here on the pavement in front of the cameras and Nate and everyone.
I grabbed my bag. Slung it over my shoulder.
And I walked. Past Calder. Past the open doorway. Past the hurt I could feel radiating off him even though he stood perfectly still.
My vision blurred. Throat tight. Chest aching.
"Good girl." Nate's voice carried across the parking lot, smug and satisfied. "I'll see you tonight."
I kept walking.
Behind me, I heard the shift. The subtle scrape of boots on concrete.
Calder moved.
I didn't turn around. Didn't need to. I knew what I'd see—his hand curling into a fist at his side, knuckles white, jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding from here.
He wouldn't say anything. Wouldn't do anything.
Not in front of witnesses.
The cold bit through my hoodie as I reached the edge of the lot. My hands were shaking. My jaw throbbed where Nate had grabbed it earlier.
And my lips still tasted like betrayal.
I turned the corner. Let the building swallow me.
And finally—finally—I let myself fall apart.
Chapter 22
Calder
Iblew the whistle.
Sharp. Clean. The sound cut through the rink like a blade through muscle.
The girls stopped mid-drill, chests heaving, breaths fogging in the frozen air. Kira bent over her knees. Reese dragged the back of her glove across her forehead.
And Billie just stood there. Stick planted in the ice. Eyes straight ahead.
Not looking at me.
Good.
Better that way.
"Line it up," I barked. "Breakout drill. Same as yesterday. If you can't remember it, you don't belong here."
They scrambled. Positions reset. Hannah took center. Billie moved to left wing without a word.
I watched her skate. Watched the way her shoulders hunched just slightly, the tightness in her stride that hadn't been there a week ago.
She was playing scared. Playing small. And I didn't say a goddamn thing.
The whistle blew again. Pucks dropped. Bodies moved. The drill unfolded like it should—clean passes, crisp transitions, no wasted movement.
