Page 128 of Cross Ice

Back in the locker room, every head turned away.

Not dramatically. But I felt it. Thompson checking his phone, Fortin suddenly interested in his skate laces, guys finding reasons to look elsewhere.

André glanced over once. Didn’t say anything. From André, that meant something. He always had something to say. Tonight he’d decided I needed the silence more than the words.

I stripped off my gear, showered, and dressed. By the time I was done, most of the locker room had cleared.

I grabbed my bag and walked to my car. Drove home through traffic I didn’t register. All I could hear was Coach’s voice.

This isn’t who you are.

I wanted to believe him. I wasn’t sure I did.

I pulled into my garage and sat there for a while before I could make myself go inside. When I finally did, I dropped my bag by the door and didn’t turn on the lights. Just stood there for a moment in the dark.

Then I sat on the couch and opened my phone.

Neil. My parents. Miguel. And underneath all of them, Evan.

Twelve texts from Evan. The most recent from an hour ago.

Evan

I saw the game. Are you okay?

No.

I looked at his messages. At I love you. I know I said it wrong, but I meant it.

Nico

I need some space. I can’t talk right now. I just need to think.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Evan

Okay. I understand.

Evan

I’m sorry. For all of it.

Nico

I know.

I stared at the conversation thread. Weeks of texts that had gone from easy and affectionate to careful and strained, the gap between us widening in increments so small I’d kept telling myself it wasn’t happening.

I typed one more message.

Nico

I love you. But I don’t know if that’s enough either.

Sent it before I could second-guess it. Put my phone face down on the coffee table.

My phone buzzed. I didn’t look at it.