Page 59 of Ice Princesses
I pretend not to hear the implication.
On the far side of the rink, Isabella shifts positions, moving along the boards with a stack of printed sheets tucked under her arm. She doesn’t approach the ice, instead staying exactly where she belongs in this context, even though I know she could step into the center of the room and command it if she wanted to.
She stops a few feet from where I’m standing, speaking briefly with one of the junior coaches. When she’s finished, she rests her hand lightly on the top of the boards.
Close enough that I could reach out and touch her if I wanted to.
Instead, I keep my eyes on Rodrigo as he sets up foranother run-through, even though I can feel the warmth of her presence at my side.
“Morning,” she says quietly, not looking at me.
“Morning,” I answer, equally neutral.
If anyone were watching, they would see nothing unusual. Two professionals acknowledging each other in a shared workspace.
Her fingers shift slightly against the barrier, brushing the edge of my hand for the briefest second before she pulls back.
It’s so small that I almost feel like I imagined it. My hand doesn’t move, but the rest of me does.
“You left early,” she says, not looking at me.
“I had to be here,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the ice, even though I can feel hers on my profile. “The boss lady is super strict about ice times.”
There’s a quiet beat, and then she turns just enough that I can see the curve of her mouth from the corner of my vision.
“I’m the boss lady?” she asks, amusement threading through her voice.
I risk a glance at her then. She’s smiling—not that stupid public version, but the one that tilts to one side, like she’s enjoying the shared inside joke.
“You are terrifying about scheduling,” I say evenly.
She laughs under her breath, warm and low, and the sound settles somewhere deep in my chest, steadying and unsteadying me at the same time.
“Nina is the real boss, though,” she adds, that smile still playing at the edge of her mouth. Her eyes drift back toRodrigo on the ice, who is setting up for a triple-triple combination he’s been chasing all week. “I just sign things.”
Rodrigo lands the second jump a little forward on his toe pick and scrapes out of it, arms windmilling before he regains balance.
I exhale slowly.
“I’ll see you later?” she asks, and I notice, for the first time, a slight hint of doubt in her voice. “Maybe come see me once you’re done here? I have the good coffee,” she adds, like that’s the reason.
My pulse reacts as if she had dragged her palm down the length of my spine. She steps away before this can become more noticeable, heading towards the exit doors with unhurried confidence. I force myself to breathe normally.
Rodrigo lands clean this time, holds the edge, and glides towards me with a grin that borders on cocky.
“That was definitely clean,” he insists.
He studies me for a second longer than necessary, then glances at the doors where Isabella disappeared.
“She’s coming this weekend, right?” he asks.
“To the exhibition?” I keep my voice even.
“Yeah.”
“Yes,” I say. “She’s working.”
He nods slowly, absorbing that.
