The black sedan felt like a cage of my own fury, every mile closer to the rink stoking the fire in my chest. The cold leather seat did nothing to cool the heat of my rage. Lacie. Her friends. The ones who held me down. The ones who watched. The ones who took my baby from me.

The car stopped. I didn’t wait for the driver. I pushed the door open and strode into the familiar arena, the scent of cold ice and sweat hitting me like a physical blow. My eyes scanned the bleachers, the benches, the ...