“Preston,” I say loud enough he should hear me. He doesn’t even flick a glance my way. What the fuck? I shove my bag at Brendon and break into a jog. “Preston!” I’m about even with him, even if ten feet or so separates us. He glances at me, a second of fear breaking through the ice mask before he’s hidden again. A driver opens the door for them, both Preston and his father get into the car and the door is closed. There’s nothing I can do but watch as he stares straight ahead out the front window. The car pulls away and he’s gone. I’m left standing on the sidewalk outside the rink, watching the
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