Chapter 1

The cold bit at my cheeks the moment I stepped through the heavy glass doors, a sharp, crisp shock that cleared my head and sent a shiver racing down my spine. It was the kind of cold that didn’t just sit on the skin but seemed to seep into the bones, a clean, sterile chill that smelled of frozen water and melted wax. I had expected chaos, the usual holiday scramble of parents herding toddlers, teenagers showing off their triple axels, and the general cacophony of a public rink. But when I looked around, the space was strangely, beautifully empty. The main rink was a vast sheet of white, illuminated by strings of warm, amber holiday lights that hung in thick, festive clusters from the high, vaulted ceiling. They cast long, dancing shadows across the ice, turning the surface into a mirror that reflected the golden glow like a sea of liquid honey. The air smelled intensely of that specific, nostalgic scent I hadn’t realized I missed until this very moment: the waxy residue of floor polish, the faint metallic tang of the Zamboni’s exhaust, and the underlying, sweet aroma of pine needles and peppermint from the garlands draped along