Page 57 of The Play Maker

Mom stopped coming to competitions, and eventually stopped asking about practices. Not because she didn’t care, I don’t think. She just didn’t have anything left to give.

And yeah, I understand. But it still hurt. Because I never stopped caring.

I never stopped trying to be better and better, hoping that one day she could come to one of my competitions, watch me skate, and I’d make her proud.

Sometimes I think… if I’d fallen apart a little more, she might’ve noticed. But I didn’t. I held it together, because that’s what everyone needed.

And maybe that’s why I can’t celebrate my achievements, because, in my mind, it’s my obligation to achieve them.

I blow out a breath and shake out my arms, pushing the thoughts aside.

I roll back into motion, building speed as I loop around the far end of the rink. I bend my knees, square my shoulders, and zone out everything else.

Loop. Step. Takeoff. Rotate.

I go for the double toe loop.

The takeoff’s solid. Rotation clean. My blade connects with the ice in a sharp snap and I hold it.

I glide out of it, heart racing. My breath clouds in the air, and for a second, I let myself feel the relief pounding in my chest. Maybe I’m not as hopeless as I felt five minutes ago.

And that’s when I hear someone clapping.

I slam to a stop, my blades kicking up a rough spray of ice shavings.

What the hell?—

I spin around, my breath catching in my throat, and of course… it’s him.

Austin Rhodes. Standing just beyond the boards with his skates slung over his shoulder and that stupidly pretty smirk on his face.

“Jesus,” I mutter, my hand flying to my chest. “You scared me.”

He steps out from the tunnel in sweatpants and a backwards cap, a grin spreading across his face. “Sorry. Didn’t want to interrupt you.”

I blink at him, still trying to catch up. “How long have you been here?”

He shrugs. “Since the wipeout.”

A flush climbs up my neck. Of course. Because the universe really loves to humiliate me “Great. Hope you enjoyed the show.”

“You made up for it,” he says, nodding toward the ice. “That landing was… damn.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you being sincere right now or sarcastic?”

Austin lifts a hand, placing it over his heart. “Swear. It was hot,” he says with a smirk. “And also very impressive, but mostly hot.”

My stomach drops and flutters at the same time, which should not be physically possible. I glare, my face instantly going hot. “What are you doing here?”

He starts walking toward the gate. “I could ask you the same thing,” he says, tilting his head.

His hoodie sleeves are shoved up to his elbows, his forearms flexing as he shifts his stick into his other hand. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, like he just rolled out of bed looking annoyingly perfect.

I fold my arms, lifting my shoulders into a shrug. “I prefer practicing at night.”

He raises a brow as he drops down onto the bench and starts untying his sneakers. “Because you’re secretly a vampire or…?”

I wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my hoodie, avoiding his eyes. “Because I don’t like being in anyone’s way.”