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Scotty sat beside me, offering a warm smile as he nudged me with his shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.

I glanced at him, and I could tell that he knew.

He knew that I wasn’t okay, but it wasn’t from the physical fall. It was from a different kind of fall, the kind that was going to drain me dry. This feeling was the world’s longest blood draw. A needle sucking out my life force, after a nurse spent an agonizing amount of time poking and prodding, looking for a usable vein. I was bruised, sore, and weaker than ever, and I didn’t even get a consolation prize in the form of a cute Band-Aid to patch me up.

But I nodded anyway, erasing the pain from my eyes. “I actually think I’m going to go back out on the rink. I refuse to let that spectacle be my grand finale.”

“Well, you’re nothing if not dedicated.” He breathed out a laugh. “I’m gonna grab a snack. Want anything?”

“No thanks.” All I wanted was the unavailable man standing near my left shoulder, who was slipping into his own pair of skates as Tara beckoned him out onto the rink.

I rolled past him, trying not to make physical contact.

Trying to remain invisible as I wobbled forward.

Tara grabbed me by the wrist, her enthusiasm nearly causing me to nosedive. “C’mon,” she said, pulling me out. Then she hollered over to Reed. “Let’s go, Dad! You can race Mom.”

I didn’t look behind me to see if they were venturing out together, holding hands, making plans to re-fall back in love and pulverize my battered heart.

My sour mood eventually evaporated into giggles with my best friend as we made the rounds and I managed to garner a semblance of finesse on the skates. It wasn’t so hard. Nothing felt too hard after I’d already conquered the worst out of life—even letting go of him.

We raced, laughed, bopped to the music filtering out through the speakers. The lights morphed from magenta to violet, and we spent the next ten minutes savoring the adrenaline high.

Before I knew what was happening, Tara reached for Reed’s hand as he came up on my left, then reached for mine, and twisted around so she was skating backward, tugging us both forward.

I nearly choked when my shoulder brushed with Reed’s. He glanced down at me, the hint of a smile peeking through whatever animosity he’d been holding on to.

“Hey,” he said.

I looked away, meeting Tara’s eyes. “Hi.”

In my friend’s mind, she was gliding along with two of her favorite people. Her father and her best friend—a friend who she thought of as her father’s second daughter. It was excruciating. There was a boulder in the pit of my stomach, filled with graphite and lead.

I could hardly breathe.

She let go of our hands, glancing over to where her mother was standing off near the concession counter, munching on popcorn. “Ugh. Mom is being anti-social.” She grimaced. “Be right back.”

Scotty was seated at a table with Josh and a group of guys from school, leaving Reed and I skating together alone.

Alone, save for the elephant on the rink in the shape of me sticking my arousal-soaked fingers in his mouth seven weeks ago.

The memory had me close to buckling, but I kept my balance, refusing to grab onto him for support.

Awkwardness crackled between us as I cleared my throat, desperate to fill the awful void. “So, um…how’s training going? Any new clients?”

He stared down at his skates sliding left to right, right to left. “A few, yeah.”

“That’s cool.”

This was the worst.

I needed air, a reprieve, an entirely new body to shapeshift into.

“Graduation is around the corner. Bet you’re excited.”

I nodded. “Yep.”

More silence. More elephants stampeding toward us.

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