Most of the cars had cleared out an hour ago. Practice had ended. Parents had picked up their kids. The Zamboni had finished its final lap, and the only sound now was the distant hum of the cooling system.

Y/n stood alone in the silence.

Her fingers were still cold. Her chest felt hollow. The image was still burned behind her eyelids—Logan’s hand cupping someone else’s face, his lips meeting hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She hadn't screamed. Hadn't cried. Hadn't said a single word.

She'd just... turned around. Walked away. Made it all the way to the parking lot before the anger finally caught up.

Her eyes landed on his truck. The navy blue Ford F-150 with the Ridgewood decal in the back window. The one she'd sat in a hundred times. The one she'd kissed him goodbye in before every away game.

She walked straight toward it.

Her boot connected with the driver's side door hard enough to echo through the empty lot.

Y/n didn't flinch.

She kicked it again.

Leaning against the bed of a black pickup truck a few spaces away, arms crossed, was someone she recognized immediately. Forest green varsity jacket. Westview High crest stitched over the heart. Dark hair messily falling across his forehead. A smirk that looked like it had been practiced in front of a mirror.

Daniel Carter.

The captain of the team her father spent all season trying to beat.

The last person on earth she wanted to witness this.