1. Chapter One

Chapter One

W hen you're sixteen, dreams are everything. My dream? Make it to the Olympics. Be the next big figure skater. And I am on my way. The scouts are here to see Emmitt and me. We are the top skaters in our league, and this is the last year we can compete before they raise the senior division age limit. This is our last shot; we have to make it this year.

Emmitt bumps my shoulder with a smile. "You ready, Izzy?"

I smile back with a nod. "Ready as I'll ever be."

They always say never get involved with your partner. Keep it professional, they say. But I've known Emmitt since I was six. We met on the ice and have been inseparable since. He has never given me a reason not to trust him. But I didn't realize just how far he would go to become a star figure skater. How far he would go to avoid having to drag me along beside him. He wanted the spotlight. Alone.

We rocked our short program, and our long program is all that's left to do. It is the most important because it showcases our lifts. This is the program to show off our skills and make sure the scouts notice us.

I shake my hands out, trying to get rid of my anxiety.

Emmitt laughs as he looks down at me. "Got ants in your pants, Izzy?"

"I'm trying to get the nervous energy out before we step on the ice. I don't want it to ruin the routine."

Emmitt slips his hand into mine, giving it a squeeze. "I've got this. Trust me, Iz?"

I arch a brow at the ridiculous question. "Of course."

He nods. "Then don't worry."

Huffing out a sigh, I nod. "Right. We've got this."

Before we know it, it's our turn. We glide out onto the ice, and I can't help but smile at the rush I get from stepping on the ice and the feeling of freedom consumes me. We take our starting positions, ready for the music to begin. I take a few deep breaths before the music blares from the speakers, sounding like the beginning of my end.

I land every jump, and Emmitt holds strong for every lift. We had decided to save our throw-jump for the end. It is a risky move, but it increases the difficulty of the program. We've perfected the move, and I landed it every single time in practice. The points will be worth the exhaustion.

The moment Emmit grabs my waist, I know something is wrong. He isn't holding me in the same spot as we've practiced, but I'm already up in the air before I can do or say anything. He released me too high. My mind tells me not to overcompensate for the error. All of my training says not to try and fix the error. Just land as best you can. That's what I'm supposed to do.

My body decides otherwise. I try to shift my weight so when I land on the correct foot, I can then distribute my weight to my other foot once on the ice. In theory, it should have worked. In theory, lots of things should work. In reality, it didn't work.

My scream echoes through the rink as I land on the edge of my blade and fall. I slide across the ice, but the only thing on my mind is that my ankle hurts. The pain is unbearable.

Tears stream down my face as I force my eyes open and look down to take in the damage. My ankle… my… my ankle! It's wrong! It's so wrong! No. No, no, no, no, no!

When I look up again, I find Emmitt staring down at me, his face blank of all feeling and emotion.

"Em?" My voice trembles from the pain.

His eyes meet mine, finally. Then they widen as he takes in what happened. "I… I… I'm sorry. He made me."

My eyes narrow, and my breaths come quicker as I try to think past the pain. "What are you talking about?" There is something in his tone that I've never heard before.

"My dad. He told me to ruin you, so I could become the best skater alone."

My eyes widen and my entire body freezes. He… he turned on me. "You did this on purpose?" Medics begin to surround me, but I've grown numb from the shock. My best friend. My boyfriend… betrayed me? He ruined my life to ensure he got ahead.

"You did this!" I point to my ankle with a shaking hand the best I can. "You ruined my life, Emmitt! Why?!" I yell at him.

The medics try to calm me down, but there's no use. I'm making sure he knows exactly what he did. Unfortunately, I know there's no way to prove he caused the ‘accident'. His parents are rich and can claim it was an accident.

As more people surround me on the ice, I watch him slowly back away. But I'm not done with him. I scream, "You have taken everything from me. I'll never be able to skate again! Never skate, Emmitt!"

"I'm sorry," he whispers before he turns and skates away. I watch as my best friend leaves me broken on the ice with the medics trying to put me on a stretcher.

I give in, slumping forward and allowing them to move me however they want. Tears continue to stream down my face as it fully sinks in that I'll never be able to skate the same again. I know my ankle is shattered. It will require pins for stabilization at a minimum. If it's as bad as I think it is, I'll need a plate put in as well.

I'll have no flexibility. No movement in that ankle. Sure, with years of physical therapy, I'll be able to do more. But that doesn't begin to touch the pain I feel from my best friend's betrayal. I choke on a sob as one of the paramedics looks down at me with a sad smile. "It will be okay, darlin'."

I shake my head as I cry, "It's over. My dream is dead."

The female paramedic on my other side shushes me. "Now, now, hunny. That's no way to look at it."

"Then how am I supposed to look at it?" I whimper. Everything I've wanted and dreamed of for so long, gone.

She gives me a kind smile as they load me into the ambulance. Hoping up beside me, she brushes a few strands of hair out of my face. "Dreams can change. They are a malleable thing, hun. You may not be able to skate like before, but that doesn't mean you won't ever skate again." I huff a heavy sigh. Like most sixteen-year-olds, I don't believe her.

But with a six-hour surgery that changed with the help of my dad. My days are spent in a hospital room, stuck watching TV most of the time. The only thing that catches my eye as I channel surf is hockey. I'm entranced as I watched them glide across the ice. Granted, I don't understand the game much, but the brawls the players get into are the only thing that make me smile. I believed that woman. Dreams could change.

It makes me wish I could take a stick to the side of Emmitt's head, but I figure that may be a little too violent. At least that's what my mom would say. My dad, on the other hand, loves that I have gotten into watching his favorite sport. When he isn't at work, he comes by and watches it with me. He happily explains the game and grins ear to ear when I ask questions.

We argue over our favorite teams. To be honest, mine changes depending on my favorite player at the time, at least that's what I tell my dad. Which I know irritates my father more than anything. Don't tell him, but my favorite team will always be the same as his. The Toronto Maple Leafs. My favorite player? Morgan Rielly of course, but don't tell my dad.

Now that I'm no longer skating, I have more time for school, and I put every bit of that time toward doing well. I do so well that I am on the road to graduating from high school early, and I take advantage of that. I've taken as many AP classes as I was allowed. If it were up to me, I would have taken more, but my guidance counselor said the workload would be too much.

My senior year of high school, I send my application to the University of Florida. It's the only school I want to go to, and I am determined to get in. I want to soak in the sun and visit the beach. As a figure skater, I didn't have much time to travel for fun, and most of the money my parents made went toward my dream. Vacations were never a thing in my family, so I am going to take advantage of it now.

I've always wanted to go to the beach and, this way, my parents will no longer have to spend all their money on me. I can get a part-time job if I have to.

"What's your plan if you get into Florida, Liz?" My mom's voice rings through the house from the kitchen.

I smile as I work on my homework at the coffee table in the living room. "What do you mean?"

"You'll be so far away," she whines.

I laugh. "Mom, I'll be fine. I'll get a part-time job to help with expenses. I'm sure they have an ice rink. Maybe, I can teach kids to skate."

She hums. "You shouldn't need a part-time job, hun. Your father and I can help pay. Your focus should be on school."

"Mom, you and Dad have spent enough money on me for a lifetime. I'll manage."

She pops out of the kitchen on a huff. "You are as bullheaded as your father. I won't argue with you because I know how to pick my battles. But if you need anything, we are only a phone call away."

"I know, ma. You worry too much."

She laughs as she walks back into the kitchen. "Yes. Well, it's a mother's job. Don't forget you have physical therapy tomorrow."

I groan in protest. "But ma!"

"No buts, missy! You will finish every session of physical therapy."

I frown, staring down at my homework, then eventually say, "It's too expensive, ma."

"I don't care. That horrible boy and his parents should be paying for this! But—"

I interrupt. "I don't want anything to do with them, ma."

"I know"—she sighs— "which is why you will complete every PT session and show that horrid family that you are better than them."

I smile. "Yes mama." I turn to the front door as my dad shuffles in. His bright eyes meet mine as I grin. "Hey, da. How was work today?"

"Work," he grunts.

I snort as I turn on the TV and switch it to the sports channel. The game should be on soon. My dad holds an envelope out in front of my face.

"This came in the mail for you."

I take it from him and release a loud squeal. He covers his ears with a laugh. "Good lord. I'm assuming that's a happy squeal."

I nod, impatiently ripping open the envelope and pulling out the letter. I have to read the words several times before I jump up from the floor. Pumping my arms in the air, I yell, "I got in!"

I'm immediately engulfed in my father's arms as he gives me a bear hug. "So happy for you, Iz."

I hug him back hard before pulling away. When I turn toward the kitchen, I find my mom standing there with a big smile and tears in her eyes. "Congratulations, baby."

Rushing over to her, I wrap her in a hug. She laughs and holds me close. "You are going to do great! I'm so happy you got in, baby. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, ma," I whisper.

My father claps and announces, "This calls for a celebration!"

I shake my head, still smiling. "We don't have to do anything."

He waves a hand in the air. "Nonsense. My baby girl just got into the University of Florida. Go Gators! She's going to be the biggest and best athletic therapist in the National Hockey League one day."

"Da!" I shout and laugh.

He points a finger at me and says, "One day, every team in the NHL will want my baby on their team."

I roll my eyes. "If you say so, da."

Little did I know just how true his words would be.