Chapter 1

"I'm sorry, Maeve," my coach said. "But the final roster has been confirmed. There wasn't a mistake."

I stood outside the office for almost five minutes, staring at the sheet taped to the board.

My name was gone.

Under the Skating Training Grant, where Maeve Sullivan should have been, was Lyla Voss instead.

My first thought was that there was something wrong with the roster. Then I realized Silas did that.

When I found him, he was leaning against his car, scrolling through his phone.

He saw me but didn't even straighten up. Just flicked the ash off his cigarette and squinted at me through the smoke.

"Lyla's family is broke," he said, before I could even open my mouth. "If she doesn't get the grant, she's done."

"You're strong. You can fight your way through Sectionals."

"That grant comes with a full ride to the Olympic Training Center," I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "You know what that means for me."

"You'll figure it out."

I stared at him. He was looking everywhere except at my face.

Then he sighed, reached into his wallet, and pulled out a black card. He held it out between two fingers like he was tipping a valet.

"Fine. Look. I'll cover your training. Coaches, ice time, gear — all of it. Consider it me buying the spot off you. Are we good now?"

The rain started.

I looked at the card in his hand. Then at his face.

He used to tell me that as long as I trained hard, I could leave my terrible family. And realize my dream of competing in an international skating event.

So to get better training, I practiced hard and worked part-time at the skating club in my spare time.

But ironically, he was putting a price tag on my dream now.

I turned around and started walking.

His voice cut across the parking lot, flat and cold.

"Are you serious now? You bust your knuckles in that club's shop. You've been hustling for money your whole life."

"I'm handing you more than you'll ever see, and you want to play noble?"

I stopped and turned my head, just enough to see him through the rain.

Many years of something I'd thought was untouchable. And it had rotted through all at once.

I gave him a small smile.

"Sure, Silas. Think whatever you want."

By the time I got back to the skating club's shop, my phone was buzzing.

Bree.

"Maeve. Tell me I'm reading the roster wrong. Tell me Lyla's name is not where yours should be."

"You're reading it right."

"That's Silas. That has to be Silas. Did you talk to him?"

"I just came from him."

I leaned against the back counter, looking at the row of skates lined up for sharpening. My hands were still wet.

"He offered to pay for the rest of my skating career. Said he was buying the spot off me."

The line went quiet for a long beat.

"That entitled piece of shit," Bree said finally. "Tell me you threw it back in his face."

"I walked away."

"Maeve, you have to fight this. That grant is yours. Do you have any idea what you went through to earn it? The all-night training, your dad — "

"It won't do anything."

"What do you mean it won't?"

"His family, the Kensingtons, endowed the training grant, Bree. They built this rink. If they pull my name once, they'll pull it again."

She was quiet again.

"Oh, I saw Lyla's Instagram story just now. Silas booked out the whole restaurant to celebrate her nomination. Maeve."

"Fine."

"Fine? That's it?"

"I have to go. Customer just walked in."

I hung up before she could say anything else.