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My body nearly leaves its skin when I feel a hand land on my shoulder. “Hey, it’s just me.” Zach walks over to the switchboard and flips on the lights, illuminating the vast expanse of ice. “Sorry, I got held up in Coach’s office.”

“That’s okay. I was a few minutes late anyway.” I continue to stare out at the twinkling white surface. It’s been so long since I visited a rink. Probably the last time was when I watched Zach in high school, and I’ve never been when it was empty. “It’s like stars, but on the ground. It’s kind of beautiful.”

“It’s definitely a beautiful sight.”

A hand threads through mine, and when I look up, I find Zach’s gaze fixed on me, and the butterflies resume their dancing.

“Come on, Rocket. Your skates are ready. First lesson, lacing them up.”

Zach pulls me toward one of the benches and kneels in front, pulling out a pair of gleaming white figure skates from underneath. He shrugs. “I figured you’d want these rather than the hockey ones.”

I nod and chuckle. “You’d be right.”

Carefully, he laces my skates moving from one foot to the next. The silence between us is therapeutic as I watch him work in a particular way.

“Before each game, Jon and I have this routine. I re-lace my skates, and he works on his stick, taping it up.”

“He tapes his stick?”

“Yeah, the tape helps control the puck when it makes contact.”

“Do you tape yours?”

“Yeah, pretty much every player does. It’s just Jon is obsessive. It’s more about routine than anything. Hockey players have superstitions.”

“Did you speak to him? You know, about how you’re feeling.”

I watch the top of his head as he nods. “Yep, spoke to both him and Coach.”

“And?”

“Jon got it. Said he would always have my back and that he’d help me work through it.”

“And Coach?”

He laughs. “He was more concerned, thinking it hadn’t affected me at all. He said players don’t take hits like that and just bounce back. It’ll take time to build my confidence. He’sgoing to build a plan with our team psychologist to help with visualization and flashbacks.”

“That sounds great. It’s awesome you have so many supportive people behind you.”

He comes to a stand and holds out his hand for me to take. “Yeah, it really is. Thank you for pushing me to speak up.”

We walk toward the rink, and chills run down my spine—I’m not sure if it’s the ice or his proximity. “I’m just another person in your corner, Zach.”

He steps onto the ice and turns to face me, holding out both hands. “You’ll never be ‘just’ anything in my life, Luna.”

Tentatively, I step onto the slippery freezing surface, and my shoulders lock as I feel my left skate slowly slipping underneath me.

“Keep your knees soft and your body relaxed; I got you. You aren’t going to fall.”

I think it might be too late for that.

Zach takes complete control, gliding us into the middle of the ice. I keep a tight grip on his hands as he continues to skate backwards. In his thick black hoodie and gray sweatpants, he looks glorious, navigating the ice like it’s his second home. “You belong out here.”

A brief smile pulls at his lips. “Have you ever been somewhere where you can clear your mind of everything?”

I think about my home and Cocoa Beach at night under a clear night sky. “Yes.”

“Well, this is where I do my best thinking. There could be twenty thousand people in this arena, but I only hear one voice. My own.” He continues to circle the rink with me in tow, my wobbly legs like Bambi. “Would it be weird to say it’s calming, even during games?”