The Ice Between Us

Chapter 6 -Evan

I wasn’t expecting to see her. Not at five in the morning. Not on the frozen pond behind the high school. And definitely not with her coach hovering beside her like she might shatter if he breathed too loud. But there she was.

Lena Merritt.

The girl I spent half my life trying to impress and the other half trying to forget. I’d pulled into the parking lot early that morning, planning to get extra reps in before practice. Ever since the suspension, Coach has been on me nonstop, control your temper, keep your head down, don’t give the league another reason to fine you. I’m trying. Really. But anger sticks to me like a second skin.

I was grabbing my gear when I heard voices. I looked up, and froze. Lena stepped onto the pond like it might swallow her whole. She looked different. Not physically, she still had that quiet strength, that soft focus in her eyes, but something in her posture was off. Smaller. Guarded. Like she was bracing for impact. Her coach said something about “baby steps” and “basics,” and then, this part actually made me laugh under my breath, “stay away from him.”

Him meaning me. If only he knew. If only he knew she used to sit on the bleachers after school and watch me skate laps until the rink closed. If only he knew she was the one who taped my wrist the first time I sprained it. If only he knew she was the one who got away because I was too stupid, too young, too scared to ask her to stay.

I didn’t approach her. I couldn’t. She looked fragile in a way I’d never seen before, and the last thing she needed was me barging in like a storm. So I let her pass with her coach, pretending I didn’t feel the punch of seeing her again. That was a week ago.

And now… I’m here every morning.

I tell myself I’m just getting to practice early. That I’m being responsible. That I’m trying to fix my season after the suspension threw everything off. But the truth is simpler: I want to see her skate. Even if it’s just laps. Even if she looks terrified half the time. Even if she doesn’t know I’m watching. There’s something about seeing her on the ice again, shaky, scared, but trying, that settles something in me I didn’t know was restless. This morning, I’m leaning against the boards, half-hidden by the trees, watching her glide across the pond. She’s steadier today. Not confident, but not crumbling either. Her coach calls out encouragement, and she nods, pushing through another lap.

I’m so focused on her that I don’t hear Mason walk up behind me until he says, “Dude… are you spying?”

I jump. “Jesus...don’t sneak up on people.”

He squints at the pond. “Wait. Is that...holy crap. That’s Lena Merritt. My little sister is obsessed with her.”

My jaw tightens. “You know her?”

“Not personally,” he says. “But my sister watched every competition. She saw the accident on TV.”

My stomach drops. “Accident?”

Mason looks at me like I’m an i***t. “You didn’t know? It was brutal. Happened during the game you got suspended for. My sister was crying for hours.”

I stare at Lena, my chest tightening. I knew she’d fallen, everyone did, but I didn’t know it was that bad. I didn’t know it happened the same night I lost my temper and made headlines for all the wrong reasons. While she was breaking on the ice, I was breaking someone’s face. The thought makes me sick.

Mason nudges me. “So… what’s the deal? You two know each other?”

I swallow hard. “Yeah. We grew up together.”

“Ah,” he says, smirking. “So she’s the one.”

I glare. “What one?”

“The one you never talk about but always look like you’re thinking about.”

I shove him lightly. “Shut up.”

He laughs but doesn’t push it. “You gonna talk to her?”

I look back at the pond. At her. At the way she wipes her eyes when she thinks no one’s watching. At the way she keeps skating anyway. “I don’t know,” I admit. Because she’s hurting. Because I don’t know if I’m part of the problem or the solution. Because she deserves better than the mess I’ve become. But as she glides across the ice, the early morning light catching in her hair, one thing becomes painfully clear:

I don’t want to stay away from her. Not anymore.