Page 58 of Cross Ice

“Me too.”

We finished dinner and moved to the couch with coffee and tiramisu.

“Thank you for dinner,” Evan said. “I know we can’t exactly go out, but I wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. Not yet. So thank you for making this feel like enough.”

“Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“I want this to work, Nico. I’m scared, but I want it to work.”

“I do too.”

We sat there for a moment, our gazes locked and charged. Then Evan shifted slightly closer, and I reached out and took his hand. His fingers threaded through mine.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked gently.

“Anything.”

“Have you told your family you’re gay?”

The question made my gut twist. “No. Not yet.”

“Are you planning to?”

“Eventually. When I’m ready.” I looked down at our joined hands. “I’m just scared of how they’ll react. Especially Miguel. He’s so deep in the hockey culture, I don’t know if he’ll understand.”

“There’s no rush,” Evan said. “Tell them when you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” I squeezed his hand. “I will. Someday.”

We were quiet for a while, just sitting there, holding hands. Then Evan said, “Stay the night?”

The question made my heart kick up. “I’d love to.”

The food got packed away quickly, but Evan still took his time with the kitchen. Everything went into the dishwasher, the counters wiped clean.

We finally made it to his bedroom, and we took our time with each other. No urgency, just the two of us, honest and unhurried in a way we hadn’t quite been before.

We undressed each other slowly—his shirt first, then mine, the rest following without rushing. When there was nothing left between us, I kissed him slowly, and he kissed me back the same way, and for a while that was enough. His hands moved through my hair, mine traced the lines of his back, and neither of us was in a hurry to stop.

Eventually Evan pulled back, his pupils blown, and looked at me for a moment. Then he shifted, straddled my face, and we took each other into our mouths at the same time. Hands gripped hips, and the hum he made around my cock went straight through me. I focused on him, on what I knew he liked, and felt him do the same for me. For a while there was nothing in the world except that, two people who knew each other completely, taking care of each other in the most direct way possible.

When he came apart, he pulled off and called my name. I followed, and afterward we lay tangled together in the dark while his breathing slowed against my thigh.

This was what I’d been missing without knowing how to name it. Not just him—though God, it was him—but the freedom to be completely myself with someone. No careful deflections, no guilt eating at me while he trusted me. Just Evan and me, honest and open and together.

In the morning, I woke up before him. Gray winter light came through the blinds, and the apartment was quiet. I lay there for a while, not wanting to move, listening to him breathe.

Eventually he stirred, found me with his eyes still half closed, and said nothing. Just shifted closer. We stayed like that for a while before either of us spoke.

“I have a game tonight,” I said. “But I want to take you somewhere on Sunday. Get out of the apartment but still keep a low profile. If you’re up for it.”

He opened one eye. “Where?”

“A park I know. Eastern foothills. It’s quiet in the winter. Nobody really goes up there this time of year.” I paused. “We’d have the trails to ourselves.”

He considered that for a moment. “In public.”

“In public,” I confirmed. “But it will be just us. No one’s going to see us on a hiking trail in January.”