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rly
black except for one strip of light across the ice. Air carried the sharp bitnkle that had followed me for ten months through doctors and silence and headlines that called my
e turn, two, three. The landing jarred through the boot but the ankle held
e into
e far side of the rink in helmet, pads, and suit, with arms pumping and head down. Knox Mercer, short-track s
ov
ankle gave, and balance vanished. He saw
the boards rushed up. The impact knocked the air out of both of us
with his weight pressing me flat and his chest
too close, with breath hot on my skin. Hands brac
at his chest and foun
my face. Something flickered there that could have been recognition or irritation
rough. "What the hell are you do
is my ice from five to seven rese
h his teeth, and tossed them aside. "I'm prepping for nationals. You
on and then stood so the light behi
ed my knees and refused the limp. Distance did not
came around the corner with your head
kate where I want. You're the problem with loud music and ridiculous cloth
l. You've been in trouble half your career for being too aggressive. Yo
ntil I had to tip my head back. Heat rolled off him with size an
that
pt my voice steady. "A
ut under it something else pulled tight with awareness and friction of the kind that
of you-cu
ice and papers crushed in both hands. He looked pale and shaken
e schedule." I kept my eyes
as he reached the gate and gripped it with hands that tremb
sharp. "I've got an hour l
with something like pity. "Nobody's coming. The city inspectors just l
hrough my c
hole roof's shifting. Building's a safety hazard.
the air: safety ha
stone. "The competition is in six weeks, and every other sheet in the city
ot meet my eyes. "Nothing I can do,
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