Page 14 of Switching Skates

“And that is?” I wait for the other shoe to drop.

“You keep your skates on the ice.” Her eyes flick over to mine in a stern warning.

“It wasjusta toe loop.” I chuckle and shove my skates into my bag.

“This time. But if you let those little ones tell you what to do, you’ll never stop,” she says kindly.

“I know my limits. I promise,” I assure her.

“As do I. Skates on the ice, or I’ll keep you on probation forever.”

She stands up and grabs her bag, and I grab mine.

I know her concern is coming from a caring place, but she’s not in my body. She doesn’t know the pain I bear or the things I can and can’t do. And she certainly doesn’t know how hard it is to not be able to do what I used to even though, mentally, I feel like I can. It’s my body that fails me.

I want nothing more than to run through one of my old routines and get lost in the performance.

But I can’t.

Not anymore, and I’ve accepted that as much as I possibly can, but there are days that I feel like a thousand pounds on the ice. Like I’m perpetually grounded with no hope of flying ever again.

My silence is deafening, but I eventually give her an answer. “For now.”

“Until we discuss it again?” she counters with raised eyebrows.

“Deal,” I agree with a smirk.

If there’s anything I inherited from my mom, it’s her stubbornness and willpower. When we want something, we stop at nothing to get it.

Technically, Melissa’s only referring to practice time.

What I do outside of that time wouldn’t apply, right?

“Good.” She beams. “I’ll still be around the building during practice on Friday. But you’ve got the ice to yourself with the class.”

“Can’t wait,” I respond genuinely, feeling excitement building inside of my chest.

We walk out of the rink together, and thankfully, Mason isn’t leaning against my Jeep today. I had a hard enough time ignoring him before.

As much as I know that he doesn’t deserve my affection and attention right now, it doesn’t mean that a part of me doesn’t want to give in and open myself up again.

My step stutters when I realize there’s still a Holt with perfect blonde hair outside of my vehicle. But I don’t want to punch this one in the face.

Maeve lights up when she sees me and waves. “Hurry up!”

“Have a good night,” I murmur to Melissa before parting ways with her and heading to my bestie.

“What are you doing here?” I laugh, jogging over, my ponytail swishing across my shoulders. “Get lonely?”

“Well, yes,duh. You know I have attachment issues, and the rink is, like, two miles from our place. I needed a good walk anyway. But alsoooo, look at this.”

She flips her phone around, and I read the bolded name and text she has pulled up on a dating app.

Jackson Ridley.

It clicks in my mind, and my jaw drops. “Holy shit. Like the North Stars pro hockey player,Jackson Ridley?”

She nods so aggressively that I worry she might get whiplash. “Yes!”