HAYDEN

Coach’s whistle cut through the rink like a gunshot, sharp and merciless.

“Again!” he barked, voice echoing against the boards.

I bent forward, sucking in air, legs burning from the suicides we’d been running for what felt like forever. Sweat dripped into my eyes, but I pushed off the line when his whistle shrilled again. Jason skated beside me, muttering under his breath.

“Pretty sure he’s trying to kill us.”

“Good,” I panted back. “Means we ...