Page 57 of Cross Ice

“And your dad?”

“Quieter. He’s a tax accountant, works from a home office. Loves golf and terrible action movies.” I smiled, thinking about him. “He’s the one who got me into hockey. Used to take me to Anaheim games when I was a kid, put me in a youth hockey program when I was five.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah. He’s a good guy.” I swallowed a bite of chicken. “What about yours? You never talk about them.”

Evan’s expression shifted, his eyes shuttering. “They’re in LA still. We’re… not super close.”

“Why not?”

“They weren’t thrilled when I came out in high school. Didn’t disown me or anything dramatic, but there was definitely disappointment. We talk on holidays and birthdays, see each other maybe once a year. It’s cordial but not warm.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve made my peace with it.” He reached for the garlic bread. “Danny’s more family than they are at this point.”

“He seems like a good friend.”

“The best. He’s been there for me since I moved to San Jose, through the fallout from the Ryan disaster, building my business. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“I’m glad you have him.”

We kept eating, the conversation flowing easily. Evan asked about hockey. Not the technical stuff, but what it was like growing up playing, how I got drafted, what it felt like the first time I stepped onto NHL ice.

I told him about being twenty-two and terrified. “My first game, some guy checked me so hard into the boards I literally saw stars. Couldn’t remember my own name for thirty seconds.”

“Jesus. Did they pull you from the game?”

“No, I stayed in. Stubbornness, mostly.” I paused. “But then I scored my first goal a few games later. Called my parents right after. I didn’t even take my gear off first. Just sat at my stall with my phone, and my mom answered crying.”

“Happy crying?”

“The happiest. She couldn’t even talk. My dad kept saying ‘that’s my boy’ in the background.”

He told me about college, of hating every second of business school, the marketing internship that changed everything, and the terror of starting his consulting firm. “I was genuinely convinced I’d be bankrupt within six months.”

“But you didn’t fail,” I said.

“No. Somehow I didn’t.” He smiled. “Though there were some close calls that first year.”

“What’s your favorite part? About what you do?”

His brows drew together, gaze going distant as he thought. “Helping people figure out their story. Every business, every brand… they have a story to tell, they just don’t always know what it is. I like finding that and helping them share it.”

“That’s cool. I never thought about it like that.”

“What about you? What’s your favorite part of hockey?”

“The moment right before the puck drops,” I said without hesitation. “When I’m lined up for the faceoff and everything goes quiet in my head. All the noise, all the pressure… it just disappears and it’s just me and the ice and the game. Nothing else matters.”

Evan watched me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “You love it.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I could tell. When I watched you play. The way you moved, the way you competed… you were completely in your element.”

Warmth spread through my gut. “I’m glad you watched.”