Page 67 of Cross Ice

“Tell them you’re my guest.”

“And if they ask how I know you?”

Nico was quiet for a moment, considering. “What do you want to say?”

“I want to be honest. But this is your life, your team. You should decide.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. “Tell them the truth. If someone asks, tell them we’re together.”

I stared at him. “Are you sure? I thought we were keeping it quiet.”

“We are. We’re not making announcements. But the people in that section… they’re other players’ families and friends. They’re not going to run to the media.” He squeezed my hand. “And I don’t want you to have to lie.”

“What if it gets back to your teammates?”

“Then they hear it from someone else. It’ll get back to them eventually.” He shrugged. “Some of them already know.” He held my gaze, steady and certain. “I’m not making a public statement. There are still things I need to do, like telling my family and figuring out the rest, but these people are safe. I trust them. And I don’t want you walking in there alone pretending to be nobody.”

That night I barely slept, too nervous to relax.

Tuesday crawled by.

I tried to work but couldn’t focus. Had two client calls I somehow managed to get through without completely embarrassing myself. Checked the clock every ten minutes.

Danny called around three.

“You ready for tonight?” he asked.

“Terrified.”

“Good terrified or bad terrified?”

“Both?” I paced my living room. “What if I don’t understand what’s happening? What if someone asks questions?”

“You’ve been watching games for weeks. You know more than you think.” He paused. “But Evan, are you sure you’re ready for this? Being visible in the family section?”

“I think so.”

“Because last week you seemed⁠—”

“I know how I seemed,” I said. “But this is different. I want to do this. I’m choosing it.”

A beat of silence.

“Okay,” Danny said. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

“Text me tomorrow?”

“Obviously. I want to hear everything.”

By five I was getting ready, changing my clothes three times before settling on jeans and a red sweatshirt, the Lasers’ team color. Clothing that would blend into the crowd of fans. I made a mental note to buy a Lasers hoodie.

Maybe Nico’s jersey.

I took a rideshare to the arena, my stomach in knots the entire way.

The arena loomed large as we pulled up, the building lit up against the dark sky. Crowds of people moved toward the entrance, most wearing red, black, and white jerseys. I spotted several with BRIGGS on the back, and even from the car, the energy was palpable.

I got out and merged into the flow of people, following the signs to Will Call.