Penelope's POV

Practice that morning is torture.

Every time I look at Liam across the ice, my stomach turns over itself. He keeps trying to catch my eye. I refuse to look at him, focusing instead on the scrape of my blades against the ice, the burn in my thighs.

"Focus, Hale!" Coach Reeves barks. "What's wrong with you today?"

"Sorry, Coach." I push harder, skating faster. Using the physical pain to drown out everything else. My lungs ache with each breath of cold air.

Isla stays close during ...