SKY’S POV
I caught myself checking a spot near the tunnel entrance that hadn’t held her in weeks — old instinct, the way you’d reach for a phantom limb, before I’d even set up in my crease for morning skate.
She wasn’t there. She rarely was anymore, not since the distance started. Some part of me kept checking anyway.
I ran into her twice that week without either of us planning it. Once in the arena’s back hallway, both of us headed toward the same exit at the same time, our eyes catching for a second longer than a passing colleague’s would have before either of us broke away first. Neither of us said anything. We just nodded, the same careful nod we’d perfected over the past month, and kept walking in opposite directions once we’d cleared the doorway.
The second time was in the park
