Grace
Cold clung to my jacket even after I stepped through the garage door, that particular rink chill that never fully left my skin until I'd been inside an hour, mixed in with the lingering echo of eight six-year-olds screaming every time someone landed a bunny hop.
I dropped my bag by the stairs and found Mason in the kitchen, a cutting board of vegetables in front of him, the radio low on some classic rock station he always claimed he didn't actually like.
"Lily landed her first single loop today," I said, peeling off my jacket and draping it over a stool. "Like, actually landed it. Both feet, no wobble. She screamed so loud the whole rink heard her."
"Yeah?" He didn't look up from the cutting board, but the corner of his mouth moved. "How loud are we talking."
"Loud enough that t
