The doors to the rink swung open, and cold air rolled out.
I stopped at the edge, staring like the ice might recognize me.
It was beautiful, glistening under the lights.
I hadn't stood in front of a rink like this in years. Not since I'd sworn I was done chasing medals, done bleeding for applause, done pretending I mattered when I didn't.
I'd buried that version of myself. Locked him away somewhere dark and angry and sore.
And now here he was again.
Or maybe… here Russell was.
I swallowed hard.
"Hey," I smiled softly, like I was talking to an old friend. "Long time."
My hands were already sweating inside my gloves, even before I touched the ice.
I couldn't believe this was, after saying I'd never skate again.
A hand tapped my shoulder.
"Russ," Damien said quietly. "You good?"
I nodded too fast. "Yeah. Just… cold."
He gave me a look, like he didn't buy it but wasn't gonna push. Then he leaned in a little. "This is your shot, man. Don't overthink it."
