Thin Ice

chapter 1

Clare’s POV

“Son of a b***h!”

The curse tore out of Clare Crawley’s mouth, slicing through the quiet hallway like a whip.

She sat outside the locker rooms, gripping the edge of the bench so tightly her knuckles turned white. It felt like the only thing keeping her from falling apart. Right now, it was.

The words from the voicemail kept repeating in her head.

Brian had transferred to Greenfield University, where he would now skate with his new partner, Sasha Lin. And just like that, her season was over.

No warning. No apology. Just betrayal, cold and simple.

Her skates were still tightly laced to her feet, ready for training, but the ice already felt like a distant memory.

After everything. After all the rehearsals, the brutal early mornings, the bloody ankles, and the trust they had built together, it was all gone because of one message.

Her chest rose and fell in short, shaky breaths. This wasn’t just a bad day. This was career-ending. Without a partner, she couldn’t compete. Without competing, she couldn’t earn a ranking. And without a ranking… Her Olympic dream was gone.

Finished.

Gone.

Erased.

~He’s leaving you for Tasha Lin. Without a partner, there is no competition, Clare. Training is canceled until you find a new partner. Call me then.~

She stared at the text message from her university coach, Linette, the one she had refused to believe. Even her coach was giving up on her. Not that she blamed Linette. There really wasn’t anything left to coach if Clare had no partner to skate with.

Brian had really done it.

She had known something was wrong with him these past few weeks. He had been distant, showing up late to practice and brushing off her ideas whenever she wanted to learn or choreograph new lifts.

But she never imagined he would leave her the night before their Nationals qualifier to skate for another university with someone else.

And not just anyone.

Sasha.

Fast, flashy, media-trained Sasha.

Her rival.

Her fingers shook as she locked her phone. “This is the end,” she whispered. “My season is over.”

Everything they had practiced. Every drop of sweat. Every hour spent building perfect timing together was thrown away. Just like that.

Her jaw tightened as tears burned behind her eyes. One thing she wouldn’t do was cry. Not here. Not where anyone could see her.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and she didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. No one walked like Bishop, her agent for the past five years. He was always two steps ahead of her emotions, even when she wished he wasn’t.

“I figured I’d find you here,” he said as he stopped beside her. “You okay?”

She didn’t answer. He already knew the answer. How could she be okay when her Olympic dream had just ended?

She wanted to laugh at how ridiculous her situation was, but she was afraid Bishop would think she had finally lost her mind and admit her to a psychiatric hospital instead.

He let out a quiet sigh. “I heard what happened from your coach, and I’m sorry. I know the timing is terrible. But I might have… something.”

She turned toward him, narrowing her eyes. “Something?” she asked quietly.

He hesitated before sitting beside her. “There’s a skater at another university. A big name. He just lost his partner because of an injury. His agency is looking for a temporary replacement. I know someone who knows someone, and if I pull the right strings, I can get us a meeting.”

She blinked, staring at him as though he had just suggested she jump into a volcano. “A replacement?” The word tasted bitter in her mouth.

If there was ever a time to laugh, this was it. The idea that Clare Crawley would become someone else’s backup was almost funny.

Almost.

And it was only temporary.

After everything she had worked for, after being abandoned by her own partner, the thought of becoming a convenient stand-in until another skater’s real partner returned felt like swallowing broken glass.

Bishop sighed. “I know it’s not ideal, Clare. But it’s a door. And let’s be honest, you need one. You need to stay in the competition until we can find a permanent solution.”

Her back stiffened. Just because she needed a partner didn’t mean she had to settle for scraps.

The word replacement felt like an insult. Like desperation dressed up as an opportunity.

She hadn’t spent years giving her sweat, her bruises, and every piece of herself to this sport just to become someone’s second choice.

Bishop kept talking before she could tell him exactly what she thought about his idea. “You know how it works. You miss this season, and sponsors start pulling away. You miss the next one, and suddenly you’re that girl who couldn’t recover. I’ve seen it happen, Clare.”

She scoffed. “I won’t be out until next season,” she shot back. “I just need to find a new partner.”

Bishop looked at her for a long moment before speaking again. “Before tomorrow’s performance? National qualifiers?” he asked quietly.

The words hit her harder than she wanted to admit.

“Where exactly are we going to find an elite pairs skater any school, in the middle of an ongoing season?” he continued. “Let’s be realistic, Clare. It’s impossible. Every serious skater already has a partner. The few who don’t aren’t competition-ready, and no coach is going to break up a successful team this close to Nationals.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Bishop wasn’t finished.

“And without a partner,” he said gently, “that also means saying goodbye to your Olympic dream. You’re twenty-three. Your window is already getting smaller.”

Reality hit her with painful force. She was desperate, and she hated that Bishop was right.

Twenty-three wasn’t exactly the prime age in the unforgiving world of competitive figure skating.

She was in her final year of university, and this was her last chance to make it to the Olympics and become a professional figure skater.

Her body could give out at any time. With the endless training. The silent injuries she kept ignoring. The sharp pain in her knee that stayed a little longer after every routine.

It was all starting to catch up with her.

If she let this chance slip away, another one might never come.

No sponsors.

No spotlight.

No second chances.

Only fading into the background while everyone else moved forward without her.

Her silence gave him the chance to keep going. “I can get us a meeting with the university and his agent. But I need to know you’re completely committed. I need to know you won’t walk out because you don’t like the skater or the deal. If we go, you’re agreeing to transfer. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if it hurts,” Bishop said, eyeing her.

She stared at the wall in front of her. A small c***k ran through the paint. Just like her, one more push away from breaking.

She had given everything to this sport. Skating wasn’t just a dream. It was her identity. Her beginning and her end.

If she let this moment pass, there might never be another chance.

“I’m in,” she said, her voice rough. “Set it up.”

Bishop gave one small nod. Something unspoken passed between them before he stepped away to make the call.

She leaned back against the bench and pressed her hands against her thighs to stop them from shaking.

The sound of her own words still echoed in her mind. I’m in. It didn’t feel like victory. It felt like surrender.

Temporary or not, she was stepping into unfamiliar territory, tying her future to someone else’s rhythm and someone else’s shadow.

She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing the lump in her throat back down. This was the only chance she had left. Even if it tasted bitter, she would take it.

Because sitting on the sidelines, forgotten and slowly fading away, wasn’t an option.

Not yet.

Not without a fight.

A few minutes later, Bishop returned, still holding his phone. “We’re on,” he said. “The meeting is in two hours. Frostbrook university”

Her stomach dropped. Of course, it’s Frostbrook.

She stood and gave a stiff nod.

“Let’s go.”