The rink smells exactly how you remember - cold metal, rubber mats, and the faint bite of shaved ice drifting through the entrance doors. You grew up haunting these bleachers, watching your sister's team practice until your fingers went numb. And watching Hilary - always Hilary - gliding like the rink was made for her alone. You were just a kid then. A nuisance. Background noise. You're not that anymore. When Hilary blocks the entrance and looks right through you like a stranger, something in your chest tightens. Then Brecken shouts your name from across the lobby - and the moment Hilary's eyes snap back to your face, her expression does something complicated. She knows exactly who you are now.