Page 108 of Cross Ice

Evan

Counted it as a win.

Something loosened in my chest.

Nico

That is a win.

Evan

Don’t make it a big deal.

Nico

Too late.

He sent back a single emoji—the eye-roll face—which meant he was almost smiling.

I put my phone down and picked up my beer. Morelli was watching me.

“Better?” he said.

“Little bit.”

We finished our drinks and called it a night.

Sunday’s game against Utah was a disaster.

I was off from the opening faceoff. Passes I should have made, I didn’t. Positioning wrong. Got caught flat-footed twice and nearly cost us goals both times. Second period, I took a stupid penalty. I slashed a guy in frustration when he’d beaten me to the puck. Two minutes in the box while my team killed it off.

Third period, Coach benched me.

I sat there watching the clock run down, watching us lose 3–1, and thought about what Morelli had said. It’s hard to watch someone you love paying a price. And what André had said. Be useful to him. Don’t disappear into the guilt.

I’d been doing better since Thursday. The tell me something honest texts had opened something small but real. Evan had told me about the tab count three times now. Each time the number was slightly lower. He hadn’t said that meant anything. I hadn’t made it a big deal.

But I’d been so focused on not fixing, on not managing, on learning to just be present that I’d stopped being present at the actual game I was paid to play. I’d been so in my head about Evan that I’d had nothing left for the game.

Coach pulled me aside after.

“What’s going on with you, Briggs?”

“I let the personal stuff bleed into my game. I know better than that.”

“Yeah, I saw.” He looked at me hard. “I know you’ve got stuff going on. But when you’re on the ice, you’re here. Understood?”

“Understood.”

I showered and changed in silence and got on the plane home, feeling gouged out.

My phone buzzed as we taxied.

Evan

Saw the game. Rough night.

I stared at the message. He’d seen it, and he wasn’t making it a thing. That was Evan.