Page 87 of Man Advantage

Cole closed his eyes. Sweat cooled beneath his equipment while skates scraped past them toward the locker room. Ford kept hold of his jersey until Halsey came through the tunnel.

The kid had pushed his mask onto the top of his head. His face was blotched red, and he looked young enough that Cole understood why Ford still called him a kid.

“I should’ve had the second one,” Halsey said.

Ford released Cole and turned toward him. “The puck changed direction six feet in front of you.”

“I saw it late.”

“You kept us in the game after that.” Ford shifted the cane and straightened when Halsey tried to look past him. “Look at me. You gave us a chance to win. We didn’t score. That’s on all of us, not you.”

Halsey’s jaw worked. He nodded once, though Cole could tell he wasn’t ready to believe it.

Ford didn’t force him. “Get changed. We’ll go through it when you want to. Not tonight.”

Halsey disappeared into the locker room. Cole watched Ford follow more slowly, the cane landing in a steady rhythm beside him. There had been a time when seeing another goalie finish the season in his crease would have hollowed Ford out. The loss still hurt him. Cole saw it in the set of his mouth whenever he looked toward the room. But Halsey’s hurt had come first.

Inside, the noise had collapsed to tape tearing and equipment hitting the floor. Deluca stood in the center of the locker room and waited until the last skate stopped moving.

“I know this ended before any of us were ready,” he said. “I know one goal is going to keep every man in here awake tonight. But I’m proud of what you did this season.”

Several players kept their heads down. Cole sat with his forearms braced on his knees, sweat cooling beneath the pads he hadn’t removed yet.

“We spent October trying to figure out who we were,” Deluca continued. “We lost players. We lost our starting goalie. Every time this season gave you a reason to fold, you came back to work. You were still playing in May because nobody in this room quit on the man beside him. Don’t let tonight take that away from you.”

Cole looked across the stalls at men who would sign elsewhere, retire, or spend the summer waiting for another contract. He wasn’t ready to imagine which faces wouldn’t be there when camp opened again.

Across the room, Ford lowered himself onto the bench beside Halsey. He said nothing, only sat close enough that the kid didn’t have to absorb the loss alone.

Cole stripped off his jersey while Deluca moved on to exit meetings and the end-of-season schedule. When Cole looked across the room again, Ford was still beside Halsey.

Ford stopped in the bedroom doorway while Cole emptied his road bag into the dresser. His suit went into the closet beside Ford’s. The rest of his clothes disappeared into drawers they had been sharing for months.

“What are you doing?” Ford asked.

Cole folded the last T-shirt and put it away before closing the drawer. “Unpacking. And I was thinking it might be time to move the rest of my stuff from across the hall.”

“It’s about time.” Ford came into the room, his gait stiffer than it had been before three periods in the cold rink. He leaned the cane against the dresser and stayed there, close enough that Cole could reach him if he needed help, without making the offer. “You’ve slept in my bed every night for months. I figured you’d catch on that I want you here.”

Cole rested a hip against the dresser. Ford’s dry delivery pulled the first real smile out of him since the puck hit the post. “You could’ve mentioned it.”

“Move your stuff, Englund. All of it.” Ford glanced toward the closet, where Cole’s suit already hung beside his. “You take up most of the bed. I might as well give you the rest of the closet too.”

“Bossy.” Cole smoothed his fingers over the sleeve of his suit. The teasing made the decision feel ordinary, which was exactly what he wanted it to be. No grand gesture that only held until the next call from Chicago. No promise either of them had the power to keep. “You know hockey could send me somewhere again.”

Ford stepped in front of him without hesitation. “Then you pack a bag. You don’t clear out the dresser.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good.” Ford hooked two fingers into Cole’s belt loop and drew him close. His voice softened, but the certainty in it didn’t. “Because this is home. Even when you’re somewhere else.”

Cole wrapped both arms around Ford’s waist. Ford rested against him, face pressed into the side of Cole’s neck, and the tension Cole had carried off the ice began to release. The season was over. He didn’t know where either of them would play next year or whether Ford would play at all. Ford was still right. This was home.

Ford raised his head and kissed him. He lingered until Cole smiled against his mouth, then brushed another kiss over the corner of it.

“What do we do with the spare room?” Cole asked, keeping Ford close.

“Turn it back into a guest room.”