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“And mine,” Cross said into his mic. “While it may take a couple of years for Rusty to get to the NHL, I’ve been earning millions for years. So yeah, Rusty’s siblings, if college is your dream and you can’t get there on your own, or if you need a safe space, we’re family too.”

Rusty’s throat tightened. He and Cross were going to have to have conversations about money down the road, but for this?

Rusty would take Cross’s dollars. His heart ached.

“Mike would have been applying to college right now,” he said.

“Getting in everywhere, too. He was wicked smart. And cool and funny. Mike was the best of all of us. It sucks that my brothers and sisters are being told more bad than good about him. Mike was gay, but that was the least important thing about him. He was a musical genius, he was great at math, he could work with his hands, he rescued injured animals.” Rusty blinked hard and looked directly at the camera again.

“If you kids want to find out the real truth about your big brother Michael you can ask me that too. I’ll tell you about the guy we should’ve had another lifetime to tease for wearing mis-matched socks, and listen to solving the problems of the universe—” His voice gave out with a squeak there.

The reporters looked up at him, silent for an instant, and he realized that was probably way TMI. He leaned against Cross’s shoulder and rasped, “Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to hijack your coming out.”

“You didn’t.” Cross set a hand behind Rusty’s head and kissed him, soft and fast, right in front of those cameras. “I’m so sorry you lost your brother.”

“Yeah, well.” He rubbed his face and turned back to the reporters. “Anyhow, that’s how I came out. Big stupid drama. But this? This is just Cross and me, falling for each other.”

Before anyone could ask another question, Vail stood up.

“I think that’s enough for this morning.

LaCroix will be available on a limited basis for one-on-one interviews at a future date.

Contact me if that’s something you would like to pursue.

For now, let’s just all wish LaCroix and Dolan the best, and hope for a great next season for both of them.

Gentlemen?” She gestured toward the back door.

Rusty was very ready to be done. He would’ve given Cross a hand up, but if the team was still playing “he’ll heal up and be back soon,” Rusty didn’t want to mess that up for them, so he waited and let Cross lever to his feet on his own.

The reporters called out more questions, mostly harking back to the kidnapping, as they filed out the door at the back, but Vail went ahead of him, and Cross close behind kept him moving. Amy brought up the rear.

The back door opened into some kind of hallway. Vail turned to them. “That went okay.”

“Sorry,” Rusty had to say.

“No, it was good. Gave them something to think about.” She sighed. “It will give the nastiest of your opponents something to chirp you with, though. The name Mike and gay slurs won’t be fun.”

“I’ve been getting shit all year. I can take it.”

“You shouldn’t have to. But there’s a reason we had Edison miked up all season and let the opposing teams know.” She patted his arm. “I’ll give the Tornados media office a heads up.”

“Uh, you mean the Gryphons?”

She grinned. “I’ve seen your stats. I have faith in you. And Cross, I’ll be in touch when I’ve fielded some of the interview requests. We can discuss strategy.”

“Okay. Shana, thank you for the help.”

“Anytime. Well, not literally. Let’s try to keep the major media events to one a season.”

“Or less,” Cross suggested.

“Less works for me.”

Amy said, “Come on this way, guys. I’ll get the valet to bring your car to a side door.”

Ten minutes of navigating the halls of the hotel, and they were back in the Porsche and on their way.

“Where to?” Rusty asked as he paused the Porsche at the exit from the parking lot.

“Let’s go for a drive,” Cross suggested. The skies had cleared while they were in the hotel, bringing a summer warmth to the air. He explained to Rusty how to lower the roof, and a soft breeze cooled the sweat on the back of their necks as they left the hotel grounds.

Rusty drove to Cross’s command, winding back through residential streets and eventually following a paved two-lane up a small rise. A dirt road led off into the trees to their right and Cross said, “Take that.”

“It’s your undercarriage.” Rusty slowed and turned in between towering pines.

“We’ll be fine. I’ve been this way before.” Cross draped an arm out the side, flipping his fingers in the air current as the road twisted on itself.

“Better hope we don’t meet anyone.” The gravel was smooth enough, but single-car narrow.

“What? Farm boy can’t back down a lane?”

“Not in a hundred-thousand-dollar car.”

“The road opens up at the top.”

Sure enough, the track ended in a flat grassy circle about forty feet across. On the far side, a gap in the trees looked out toward Mt. Hood on the hazy horizon. A few taller buildings stood among houses and trees in the neighborhoods downslope. Rusty put the car in park. “Where are we?”

“Just a bit of property. First time I came here, my GPS was glitching. I’d only been in Oregon a few weeks, I was looking for a teammate’s house and when it said, ‘Take the next right’ I did, and wound up here.”

“Who owns it?”

“Oh, well, um, I do. Now. There was a For-Sale sign, and I was looking for an investment. You know what they say. Land is one thing they’re not making any more of.”

“Uh huh.” There was that money thing again, but Rusty wanted to stretch.

He shut off the ignition, shed his jacket and tossed it onto the narrow back seat, swung open the door, and walked across the clearing.

Behind him, he heard Cross get out too. Close to the edge of the embankment, he came across a hefty fallen log.

Cross came up beside him and sat on the log, setting his cane aside and stretching his foot out ahead of him with a heavy sigh.

“Sore?” Rusty wasn’t surprised. “You’re supposed to be elevating sixty percent of the time.

You’ve managed what this morning? Zero?” He glanced around but didn’t see any handy footrest so he sat on his heels, trying to keep his knees out of the pine needles and raised Cross’s foot with that annoying plastic boot into his lap.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that,” Cross protested. “You’ll wreck your suit.”

“I want to.” He ran his hand around Cross’s calf above the boot. Yeah, half as much muscle as the other one, and the left one wasn’t great. “You’ll have a ton of conditioning to do when this comes off.”

“Fuck. I know.”

“Vail was talking like you’re going to be back next season.” He watched Cross’s face. That’s one complicated series of expressions.

“I guess I’m not ready to take that off the table. I did tell the team it would be a long haul at best.”

What Rusty had heard between Cross and the surgeon made long haul sound optimistic, but he wasn’t going to shit on anyone’s dreams, least of all Cross’s. “Any idea what you’ll do to keep busy while that’s happening?”

“Coaching, maybe? Some junior or local team that can use my help without a full year commitment.”

“Here in Portland?” He held his breath.

Cross smiled at him. “Let’s see where you end up first.”

“You think I have a chance at Tacoma?”

“I think if you show them what you can do at development camp, you’ve got a great shot at staying up there.

Depends who we draft, of course. There’s some decent defense prospects in the mix.

” But Cross gave him a firm nod. “Keep working, play your game, and I’d put you up against any of them.

Well, maybe not Perkins, but he’ll go top three, so the Rafters won’t land him. ”

“Thanks, I think.” Rusty kind of loved how even when Cross was encouraging him there was this total realism. Not better than Perkins, of course. Rusty knew that perfectly well, thank you, but he appreciated that Cross didn’t bullshit him.

“We’ll keep working. Now I can get down the stairs, we’ll get you back on the home ice. You’ll have skating drills coming out your ears.”

“Sounds good,” he said and meant it.

“By the time you know where you’ll start the season, I’ll know whether…” Cross’s voice trailed off.

“Right.” Rusty massaged Cross’s skinny leg.

“Maybe if you’re in Tacoma and I stay in Portland we can get a place in between.”

“You’d sell your house?”

“No, I meant another place.” Rusty figured his eyes bugged out because Cross said quickly, “A small one. Or even a rental. Something that’d be just an hour away for both of us. It’s a thought.”

“A millionaire’s thought.”

“Well, yeah. I am a millionaire.” Cross coughed. “By the way, congratulations for stopping my dad cold.”

“Huh?”

“When you suggested he should give away almost all of his money so I wouldn’t be a target. I haven’t seen him set back on his heels like that for a while.”

“I didn’t mean it. Not really. Although that much money feels weird.”

“What about mine?”

“I don’t know.” Rusty set one knee on the ground for balance. He’d need a new suit before fall anyway. This one was too tight across the shoulders and ass, and he was hoping to make it tighter.

“My parents have an established charitable foundation,” Cross said. “I tend to give randomly, although I have favorites of course. No doubt we could give more.”

“It’s none of my business, really.”

“But it will be. Eventually. What’s mine will be yours.”

“I’ll sign a prenup,” Rusty insisted, panicked at the thought of all that wealth. “If we get married, someday, I mean. Not now. God.”

“Shh.” Cross patted the log beside him. “Come sit here, mon chou.”

Rusty set Cross’s booted foot gently on the ground and perched his ass on the log. “Yeah?”