Page 50 of Cross Ice

Evan

Accurate.

Nico

Wesley said the fact that I gave you the choice, told you everything and let you decide, is what makes this different from before.

A longer pause than usual.

Evan

He’s not wrong.

Nico

Get some rest. You have a game tonight.

Evan

You have a game tonight. I have a couch and a television and a game to watch I don’t entirely understand.

Nico

Cheer loud.

Evan

No promises.

I set my phone down with a smile. I tried to nap before the pre-game meal, but my mind wouldn’t settle. Instead, I lay there thinking about Evan, about Griffin and Wesley, about how maybe this could actually work.

The game was brutal from the drop of the puck. Portland was fast and physical, and Griffin was everywhere, a player who made you feel his presence on every shift, whether he had the puck or not. I matched up against him twice in the second period and came away with nothing both times, which was infuriating in the way that only a genuinely good player could be infuriating.

He scored in the third. A clean shot from the left circle that our goalie never had a chance at. I watched it go in from the bench and felt the loss settle in my chest before the red light finished flashing.

Final score: Stormhawks 3, Lasers 1.

The locker room afterward was quiet in the way that meant everyone was thinking the same thing and nobody wanted to say it first. Coach said it for them with a short, pointed speech that covered exactly what had gone wrong and used enough profanity to make Fortin wince. Then we were left to shower and change in the silence that follows a game you know you should have won.

I was back in my hotel room by eleven. I sat on the edge of the bed and called Evan.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” His voice was warm. No mention of the score, no pointed pause, just… there, and glad to hear from me.

“Hey.” I leaned back against the headboard. “Did you watch?”

“I watched.” A pause. “Griffin Lapierre is very good.”

“He’s frustrating,” I said. “Genuinely frustrating. You’d think after eight years I’d have figured out how to read him. I haven’t.”

“He seemed nice when you met him today.”

“He is nice. Off the ice.” I rubbed my face. “On the ice he’s a problem.”

Evan laughed, quiet and genuine, and made me feel like I was in the room with him. “I’m sorry you lost.”

“We needed that win.” I stared at the ceiling. “Seattle tomorrow has to be different.”