I knew where she was going. “Today doesn’t change that.”
“It might,” she countered. “You put your hands on him.”
“He put his hands on you.”
“That isn’t how institutions see it.”
No. It wasn’t. They would frame it as a fight, one that wasn’t on the ice. Coaches paid attention to reputations, especially from the team’s captain. “I don’t regret it,” I replied.
“I know.” Her voice held something thinner than usual. “If this becomes a pattern,” she continued carefully, “If they tag you as volatile, that follows you. Coaches talk. Compliance departments flag names. It doesn’t take much.”
“It won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
“No, but I do know that I won’t ever let someone touch you and pretend I didn’t see it.”
Silence pressed in again. She studied my face as if searching for fracture. “I’m not stepping back,” she said quietly.
“From what?”
“From you. From us. From being visible next to you if that makes this harder.”
There it was. The gala. Logan’s attack. The way the administration had already tried to soften what happened. “You think I want neat?” I asked.
“I think your father does. So does your family.”
They did. They wanted optics. Containment. Controlled narratives.
“I’m not them,” I answered.
“I know.” She inhaled slowly. “If choosing me complicates Michigan?—”
“It doesn’t.”
“And if it does?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Then I’m not choosing something that requires you to take the blame. Or to give up your dreams too.”
Her breath caught slightly at that. The words weren’t dramatic. They were my decision. I stepped closer, skates braced against the ice, hands still steady at her waist. “We are not adjusting our lives so other people stay comfortable,” I continued. “Not my father. Not Dunn. Not the school.”
Her hands trailed up to the back of my neck. “And if it costs you?”
“Then it costs me. You’ll always be worth it.”
Her eyes searched mine once more, searching whether I meant it. I did. I’d spent years adapting to rooms I never wanted to be in. I wasn’t adapting this.
“We are choosing each other,” I told her. “Fully. Not quietly. I’m not choosing a future that costs me you.”
She exhaled in a way that felt older. Then she tugged my collar and kissed me. Slow. Certain.
I pulled her forward, turning once across the ice before setting her back down. A quiet laugh broke through her mouth, lighter than anything I had heard from her since the hallway.
It felt almost simple. When we finally stepped off the ice, I kept her hand in mine as we crossed the rubber matting toward the exit.
The world hadn’t calmed, but we hadn’t cracked.
At the door, I paused. The hallway above the rink was dark. Empty. Still. Something in my chest tightened anyway. It didn’t feel like an enemy circling from the outside anymore. It felt like something shifting inside the perimeter.
