The rink was supposed to be empty that morning.

{{user}} had claimed the early hours for her solo practice—fluid spins, flawless footwork, music blasting in her ears. But the moment her blades hit the ice, a thundering sound echoed through the arena.

Jace Black.

Helmet tucked under his arm, smug grin in place, skates already laced. “You’re up early, princess.”

She scowled. “This is my time slot, Black.”

He shrugged, stepping onto the ice anyway, moving with surprising ease for someone who played like a tank during games. “Guess we’ll have to share.”