“It’s not like that,” I say. “We aren’t—”

“I’m not into sharing, just so you know. If you’d rather be with Blackthorn …” His eyebrow arches again to match his grin, sure and cocky and half-joking, and my stomach flip-flops. In a perfect world … no. We don’t live in a perfect world. And here in the rusty old town of my life, there’s the boy who’s just my friend, who’s hugged me and looked at me a little too long and made me music but never made a move, and the boy who’s always kissing me and calling me beautiful and whispering into my ear, on and off the ice. The boy who’s here with me now, the roar of eighteen thousand years of water behind us softened by the warmth of the car, his breath hot and moist on my cheeks.

“I’m not,” I say. “I mean, I wouldn’t.” Still, my throat feels raw around the words, and I look away.

Will sighs, the levity we shared only a minute ago leaking out through the drafts in the doors. The car engine hums, the windows fogging up in the heavy silence.

“So … what did you want to talk about, anyway?” I ask. “You said—”

“Yeah. Listen, I really appreciate what you did for us this season. We all do. But I can handle the team now.” He refuses to meet my eyes. “The Wolfman. That’s what Don Donaldson’s calling me.” Will stares out the window and shakes his head.

“You’re …” My heart races, eyes water. “You’re kicking me off the ice?”

Will laughs, but it’s hollow and cold. “Don’t worry about your ice time, Pink. I told you that before.”

I don’t even process his words. “That’s it? I helped you guys get this far, and now that you’re Don’s pet Wolfman, it’s over? You got what you wanted, so you’re dropping me?”

Will finally turns to face me. Under the pale light of the moon, his eyes shine, stung. He brushes his fingers across my cheek. “Dropping you? This is just team stuff. It has nothing to do with … with us.” He leans forward to kiss me, but I turn away, my mind spinning.

Once he gets what he wants … Kara warned me that he’d call it off. But he’s not calling it off. Not the way Kara meant, anyway.

“If you’re not ending things between us,” I say, “why do you want me to leave the team?”

“Because you should focus on your—”

“Don’t say it’s about my training. Or that the guys don’t need help. Something else is going on. I’m not stupid. What happened tonight? Something with Dodd?”

He traces lines into the glass with his finger. “Did you see those guys in suits, sitting in the box with Dodd? My father showed up at the end.”

I nod.

“The rest of them were recruiters. NHL Central Scouting.”

“Will, that’s … wow. That’s amazing. Do you think they’re talking to Dodd and your father about you? Trying to set something up?”

“Yep.” Will taps his fingers against the window. “You ever been in a position where you have to make a choice between two things, and both of them are either really good or really bad? Like, it doesn’t even matter what you do, because either way you’ll have to give up something or hurt someone or ruin stuff and …” Will sighs and grabs my hand. “Forget it. I’m totally babbling.”

“No, I know exactly what you mean.” I lean back against the seat and close my eyes, thinking about Dani again. And my mother. The restaurant. Bug. Cupcakes. Skating and training and the Wolves … all the things I’ve been choosing between this winter. All the things that get left in the cold whenever I say yes to something else.

Maybe that’s the lesson I’m supposed to learn from my father, the Avery legacy left with the deed to the diner when he jetted across the country without us. Whenever you make a choice, something or someone becomes the unchosen, and that path vanishes forever, unexplored.

Will’s voice drops to a whisper. “I’m in a bad spot, Hudson.”

“Why? What’s going on?” I touch my hand to his face and turn him toward me. “Talk to me.”

He looks at me for a long time, eyes glassy and red. “I can’t.”

“Will, I’m—”

“Believe me when I say it’s not about you. And it’s nothing crazy like drugs or cops or anything. Okay?”

I nod slowly, swallowing back the hurt. Why won’t he tell me?

“It’s just … it’s all hockey stuff,” he says. “Family stuff. God. I sound like one of those people who drops this big bomb looking for attention and then acts like everything’s fine. I’m not trying to …” He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“If you want to talk, I’m here. Okay?”

“I can’t tell you the details.” He slips his hand into mine again and I lean my head on his shoulder, both of us breathing softly, water pounding furiously outside, all around us. “I don’t mean to be such a downer. I just wanted to say you don’t have to practice with us anymore. Dodd’s on my ass about everything now, and if he finds out you’ve been helping us …” He sniffs in a deep breath, but he doesn’t look at me.

I hate the thought of ditching the team. I hate even more that Will is asking me to. But I knew from the first day that we couldn’t tell Coach Dodd. Strictly off the record, that was the deal. And now that Dodd’s more involved, and the NHL people are nosing around, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.

I don’t know what else to say to make this okay. I just know that right now, here in this beautiful white palace, I don’t want either of us to feel bad anymore. My hand circles his wrist and pulls him closer. He hesitates as he turns to face me. Looks at me dead-on, eyes searching mine in the soft glow of the streetlamp over the car. He leans forward and I look at him and I say it, just a whisper. “Let’s forget about everything else. Just for tonight. Just for right now.”

He nods slowly and I pull him toward me and we send our obsessions away, over the Falls in an invisible barrel. Will leans against me, hair crackling in the winter air as I pull the shirt over his head. There’s no more talking, sad or serious or anything else. His hands are strong as they run along my shoulders and arms, his eyes taking in my face, lips brushing the skin of my neck, whispers hot in my ear until I’m afraid my entire body will turn to mist, leaving nothing of me to bury but the long pale silk of my hair laced through his fingers.

His mouth presses against mine, soft like the gentle snow falling outside. The muscles in his back tighten beneath my hands, and then he kisses me harder. Deeper. He’s done this before. Maybe a lot, even, and I let him take over—no awkward fumbling or pointless questions. With Will, I don’t have to think; my mind is free to roam, just like that night at the Empire Games. Maybe it’s like that for him, too, our mouths pressed together in the car, breath on skin, erasing everything else.

Beneath the weight of him, I close my eyes and let go. I run through the doors of my mind faster than I’ve ever run before, Will’s mouth moving over my skin. Door after door after door, I crash through them all as his fingers loosen the buttons on my shirt, his hands gentle on my stomach, and then I’m gone. Out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but white ice ahead, far from my mother and Hurley’s and the food critic, far from Dani and Trina’s cupcakes and everything I’ve messed up this winter, far from school and the team and Fillmore Steel, far from my father’s blogs, farther even than the old Erie Atlantic train to nowhere, running until there’s nothing left behind but a darkness so black and barren that not even a memory can grow there.

But then, in the utterly cold and empty space, a light flickers. An image. A face. A smile. A tiny white scar and deep blue-gray eyes …

The moment is broken. I open my eyes and I’m back in the car, all the old doors shut tight and locked again, Will expertly navigating the landscape of my skin.

“Hudson?” he whispers. My gaze goes blank and fuzzy until there’s two of everything. Two lamps outside. Two gajillion years of water rushing over the edge. Two Wills hovering inches above me, waiting for me to decide what happens next.