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“Should we go?” she asks. “Your mom is waiting for us.”

“Let’s go.” With Isla’s hand still cradled in mine, I guide her toward Mom’s car.

I’ve just finished lacing up my skates when someone hovers over me.

“Do you have a moment?”

Glowering, I snap up at the sound of Turner’s voice.

What does he want?

“Can it wait?” I stand and lock eyes with him. “Practice is about to start.”

He steps back, giving me space. “It won’t take long.”

I twist around, grabbing my helmet, my stick, and my gloves, and then I straighten. “Okay. Talk.”

“It’s no secret we don’t like each other.” He slaps his helmet against his thigh and then runs his other hand through his chestnut hair. “But when it comes to Isla, you don’t need to worry. I’d never hurt her just to piss you off.”

I snort, even as my gut twists. “Sorry. That’s hard to believe, considering all the times you’ve gone behind my back and snitched to Coach.”

“I’m not proud of that, okay? If you haven’t noticed, it’s been a long time since I’ve done that. We were little kids. And that was about you.” His cheeks redden. “I’m telling you I won’t hurt Isla. I couldn’t.”

Lips pursed, I scrutinize him, taking in the nervousness in his eyes and the sweat already beading at his temples. The thought that comes to mind hits hard, making my breath hitch. “You like her.”

He lifts his chin, exhaling. “What if I do?”

“Stay away from her,” I growl. “I mean it, Turner.”

He moves closer, his chest puffed out. “Or what?”

I bark out a laugh. “You don’t want to know.” I take a step forward, bumping my shoulder into his, and head toward the door. “Conversation’s over.”

As I trudge to the rink, my chest is tight, and my hands twitch with the urge to hit something. I step onto the ice, starting to pull my gloves on, but I stop abruptly when Isla’s laugh rings out across the arena.

The moment the view registers, I blanch. Who the hell is the guy talking to her? I’ve never seen him before. He’s taller than Isla and broad, built a lot like me but probably older. He’s got one hand on her waist, steadying her as they move across the ice together. Her back is arched, her head tilted toward him.

Fury rolls through me.

Isla doesn’t skate with anyone. She’s a single, always has been.

Elena’s voice drifts over to me, but I can’t make out her words.

With a nod, the guy lifts Isla. Her skates leave the ice for a couple of seconds before he sets her down again. They move effortlessly, like they’ve done it a thousand times.

She laughs again, and my body temperature rises.

Why didn’t she tell me she was skating with a partner?

“I’ve never seen her skate with another person,” Turner says, his voice grating on my nerves.

I squint at him as he steps up to my side and sets his elbows on the boards.

“She’s a single,” I grumble, yanking my gloves on roughly.

“They look good together,” he murmurs. “And he makes her smile.”

I shrug, acting unaffected, even as my chest caves in. “So?”