Kerensa's POV
The coach blew a short burst of her whistle between us, and the moment the puck touched the ice seven years' worth of grief, fury, and desperate, unspoken hope collapsed into the only place I'd ever known where to put them
I didn't think.
I moved.
I had the puck off his stick before he'd taken more than half a step, a smooth, tight pull sending a ripple of surprise through the small cluster of people gathering along the boards.
He recovered fast. I had to give him that, cutting hard to close the gap, but I was gone already, three strides ahead, pulling clear with a burst of speed that filled the air with a feeling something like release, something like a coil unwinding in my ribs.
The ice blurred beneath my blades. Cold air raked across my face, sharp and clean, and for
