A little after seven, my bus rolls into Phoenix. I take a picture of the sunrise and text it to Jonah.
I’m back in Phoenix. Things are a dumpster fire. You should move to Utah.
To my surprise, Jonah is awake. What? Why?
Because Dad is selling Ice Dreams.
I’ve been plotting with Mack all night, but if none of our ideas work, we’re going to lose Ice Dreams. So go to Utah. Chase your dreams. I’m not pushing you away. I’m letting you fly free.
Can we at least talk about this?
Yes, but not now. I haven’t slept in 24 hours and my battery is at 5%.
I’m not surprised to see Mack with Fiona in her arms waiting for me at the bus station, even though I told her she didn’t have to come. Tyler, however, is a surprise. We all pile into his four-door truck. I am grateful for the ride, but I still don’t like him. He does earn points for insisting we stop for biscuits and hash browns since we’re up so early on a Saturday morning. Mack makes small talk with Tyler, but they thankfully leave me alone in my thoughts.
“What are your cross streets, Olivia?” Tyler says.
I can’t go home. I can’t face Mom right now. I can’t break her heart with Dad’s betrayal. Ice Dreams is as much her baby as I am.
As if Mack can read my mind, she says, “Drop us off at Ice Dreams.”
“It’s not even nine o’clock yet,” Tyler says.
“I know,” Mack says, ending the conversation.
When Tyler pulls into Ice Dreams fifteen minutes later, Mack unhooks her seat belt and leans over the seat to kiss a sleeping Fiona’s head.
“Your grandmother isn’t coming back until tomorrow night, and Stuart is still in Los Angeles, right?” Tyler says.
“Yes. So, if you’d like to pick up some beef and broccoli on your way back to my house with Fiona tonight, maybe we could attempt family dinner.”
“I could do that.” Tyler leans in to kiss her goodbye.
Mack leans away. “We aren’t there yet, Tyler. Let’s see how family dinner goes first.”
To his credit, Tyler says, “You got it. One step at a time. And we still need to talk about how to handle the holidays. My parents want Fiona for Christmas morning.”
“Yeaaaaaah, not sure that’s going to happen. We’ll talk more about that later.” Mack slides her computer bag over her shoulder. “Right now, I have a job to do.”
I still think Mack can do better, but I slide my backpack on and keep my mouth closed. Mack and I trudge up the sidewalk. I’m just putting my keys in the lock when Mack yelps.
“Sorry.” Jonah dodges around a Mercedes parked on the dumpster side of the building with his in-lines in his hands. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“Damn it, Choi, don’t tell me you snuck out again. Your parents hate me enough as it is,” Mack says.
“I didn’t sneak out. I told them where I was going.”
“And they were okay with it?”
“Not exactly.” Jonah winces. “But I reminded Mom that she’s the one who wanted me to be more normal. Part of that means being there for your friends. She agreed with that, but then she reminded me that she owns my phone and can ping it for my exact location at any time. So, progress? Maybe?”
“Maybe. I’m glad you’re here.” Mack pats Jonah on the back. “I’m going to go boot up my computer. I’ll give you two a moment.”
Jonah gives Mack a nod of thanks. Mack pulls my keys out of the lock and tosses them back to me. After she goes inside, I sit on the step and wrap my arms around my knees. Jonah sits beside me. After a moment, his arm reaches around my back and he gently pulls me toward him until my head rests on his shoulder. His hoodie is soft against my cheek. His lips brush the top of my head.
“I’m guessing your audition didn’t go so well if you are back in Phoenix solo,” Jonah whispers.
I sit up straight and plunge my hand into the pocket of my hoodie. I flick Mr. Hale’s business card in front of Jonah’s face. He tips his head to the side. A confused look crosses his face as he reads it.
“Olympians on Ice wants me, but with either an Olympic medal around my neck or a high school diploma in my hand.” I tuck the card back in my pocket. “But Faina said she could get me in the door at the prestigious Broadmoor Skating Club in Colorado Springs right now if I want.”
“Oh, wow. I knew you were good, but not that good,” Jonah says, and I scowl. “That didn’t come out right. What I mean is that I always see Ice Dreams and Olivia Kennedy as a matching set. I don’t know how one can exist without the other.”
“Me neither.” I stand and pull Jonah to his feet. “Which is why we have to convince my parents not to sell the rink. Mack and I have been up all night thinking about it.”
“Show me what you’ve come up with and I’ll give you my two cents.” Jonah laces his fingers through mine. “I’ve become a skilled negotiator lately—or just an argumentative teenager if you ask Mom. I might be able to help you come up with something to change their minds.”
The weight on my chest lightens some. Jonah can’t solve my problems, but his presence on and off the ice helps balance me.
“Put your hands together for ANNABELLE ‘MACK TRUCK’ MACINTOOOOOSH!” I yell as Jonah and I enter Ice Dreams.
Mack stands in the snack bar with her laptop open on the counter. She doesn’t even break into a smile at my intro. Then I see why. Over near Table #1 stands a middle-aged white woman with platinum-blond hair wearing tailored clothes and dripping in gold jewelry.
“Livy?” Dad steps out from behind her, a bunch of papers and a pen in his hand.
My heart sinks.
“Please, don’t sell Ice Dreams, Dad. Give us six months … three months to get things turned around. I know we can do it.”
“You are very sweet,” the woman says, her gold bracelets jingling together. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, I do, but this is business.”
“No, this is Ice Dreams not Ice Business. We follow Coach Kennedy’s Rule Number One here. We look out for our partner.” I look at Jonah and then Mack. “And our family.”
Dad puts the paperwork down on the table. “Thank you so much for the ride from the airport this morning, Ms. Ormand. I will look over your generous offer again and get back to you soon.”
“Mr. Kennedy, I can wait.” Ms. Ormand dips her gold-tipped manicured hands into her designer purse and pulls out her car keys. “In three months, or even six, when your rink goes under—and it will—I’ll be back. And next time, my offer will be half what it is today. Think about that and then get back to me.”
Ms. Ormand jingles in front of the snack bar on her way out the door.
“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!” Mack yells after her.
“Annabelle!” Dad says.
“What? If she gets the rink, I’m going to be out of a job anyway.”
Ms. Ormand snorts, puts her nose in the air, and retreats to her Mercedes outside. Dad runs his hand through his hair and lets out a frustrated sigh.
“Livy, what have you done?” Dad says.