The morning after Evan’s playoff game, the house is still buzzing with leftover excitement. Everyone stayed late, celebrating the win, replaying the fight, talking about the Stanley Cup like it was already in reach. But Evan is already on the road again, heading back to town with the team.
And me? I’m at the rink before sunrise. I like the quiet. The cold. The way the ice looks untouched, like it’s waiting just for me.
I lace up my skates slowly, breathing in the familiar scent of the rink, cold metal, rubber mats, faint traces of sharpening oil. It’s comforting. Grounding. But the second I step onto the ice, something feels… off. Not wrong. Just… not right.
My left skate feels heavier. My right blade feels like it’s not sitting flush. Every push feels uneven, like the ice is tilting un
