Page 119 of Full Contact

“Dana tells you where to put your foot and then stops talking. She let me find the next one on my own. Most coaches can’t do that. They take over.”

“She’s seen a lot of people haul.”

“And Felix wrote those rules before he got here.”

“How do you know?”

“The napkin was already folded in quarters when he took it out of his pocket. The ink was dry.” He smiled. “There was never going to be a rule three.”

I laughed. Felix would be delighted someone had noticed. He’d be furious at the same time.

“Can I come next week?” Trier asked. “If practice ends on time.”

“Yes,” I said. “Of course.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Dana will want to see what you do with that sideways move.”

“I’d like another try at it.” He touched my arm, just above the elbow. “And I liked looking up and finding you watching.”

“You’re well worth watching.”

He kissed me beside the car, quick, with his nose chilly against my cheek. Then he walked to his car and waited until I’d started mine before he pulled out.

At the condo, I unzipped my gym bag in the entryway. The climbing shoes were on top, still damp inside. I was pulling them out to set them under the entry table when my phone lit up.

Dana: Next week? Just us? Anders thing.

I dropped the shoes and walked into the living room before sitting on the arm of the sofa. Beyond the windows, the lake was black, with a string of headlights moving along Lake Shore Drive.

I’d already told Trier he could come while Dana needed it to be just the three of us. He’d had a good time, and I’d said yes because I enjoyed having him there. I wanted another Tuesday with him, but I also needed to be a good friend to Dana.

I tried to work out how to tell him. Dana needs to talk to me about something private was true, but it wasn’t the whole reason, and Trier would figure that out. Could we make it every other week sounded like a policy I’d drafted on the drive home.

While trying to figure it out, I typed the easy message to Dana.

Mark: I want to hear what happened.

Chapter seventeen

Trier

Iinvited Mark to Springfield on a Thursday, while he was zesting a lemon over my cutting board. Our February break gave me two nights at Russ’s, with no flight to catch and no practice the morning after we got home. I’d been looking at the dates for a week.

“I’m going down to Russ’s for the break,” I said. “Would you come with me?”

Mark stopped zesting. “To Springfield?”

“Two nights there. We’d drive.”

“Yes.”

“Russ wants to show you the slot-hockey game. He fixed another rod after Christmas, but it wasn’t on my side. Josh finished the frog. And Kelsey has asked me twice whether you eat pot roast. The guest room’s in the basement, so it’s cold, but Kelsey puts an extra quilt down there, and there’s a space heater if you—“

“Trier.”

I looked up from the shrimp I was peeling. He had the zester in one hand and half a lemon in the other, and he’d started to smile.