Page 42 of Cross Ice

“Mm.”

“I like Evan Beckett better.”

I smiled into his chest. “Me too.”

He shifted, propping himself up to look at me. His hair was wrecked, his eyes were tired, and he had never once looked like his Wikipedia page. “I have morning skate at nine tomorrow,” he said.

“I figured.” I paused. “Stay anyway.”

He looked at me. Not surprised, but something warmer than that. Like he’d been hoping I’d say it.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I held his gaze. “I want you to.”

He settled back against the pillow and pulled me closer. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

I settled against his side.

“I’m glad you texted me this morning,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that first, but I’m glad you did.”

“I needed more time,” I said. “But then I just decided to be scared and do it anyway.”

He turned and kissed me once, soft and deliberate. Then he wrapped his arm around my waist, and I felt the weight of him, real and present and exactly where he was supposed to be.

“Nico,” he said, already half asleep.

“I know,” I said. “I know who you are.”

CHAPTER TEN

Evan

I woke up to an empty bed and the smell of coffee.

The clock on my phone read 7:14 a.m. I lay there for a moment, orienting myself to the morning light through the blinds, the sound of the city coming awake outside, the fact that the other side of the bed was still warm.

He hadn’t been gone long.

I pulled on a T-shirt and sweatpants and walked to the kitchen. A full pot of coffee waited, still hot. Next to it, propped against a mug, was a folded piece of paper torn from the notepad I kept in a kitchen drawer.

I picked it up.

Had to go home before morning skate. Didn’t want to wake you. Last night meant something to me—all of it. I’ll text you after practice.

—N

I stood in my kitchen in the early morning quiet and read it twice. Then I folded it carefully, took it to my office, and put it in the top drawer of my desk, under the notebook where I kept my client notes.

Ryan had never left a note. Not once.

I poured my coffee, stood at the window, and let myself enjoy it.

Danny arrived at six that evening with a six-pack and the energy of someone who’d waited exactly thirty-nine hours for our conversation and was done waiting.

“Okay,” he said, dropping onto the couch and cracking a beer before I’d even closed the door. “Tell me everything. And I mean everything, not the two a.m. highlights reel.”

“You already know most of it.”