Page 37

Marcos

Luke and I make our slow way through the crowd.

As expected, the final game of SCU’s hockey season is packed with students.

I’m grateful for the foresight that had me grabbing a hoodie on the way out the door.

Tugging the sleeves down to cover my hands as another person bumps into me, I move a little closer to Luke.

He’s walking in front of me, clearing the way as we trudge toward our seats.

By the time we get there, my stomach hurts and my skin is crawling even with the hoodie covering my arms. There are so many people here. Luke silently files into the row and sits down, gesturing for me to take the end seat.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“No worries,” he says, leaning forward and squinting down at the ice. His shoulders relax, and I know he’s spotted Max. I search him out as well, and watch as he skates around the back of McIntire’s net .

“What number is Nate? It’s so fucking hard to read their names,” Luke mutters, leaning forward further.

“Eighty-six. He’s there.” I point to where Nate is standing next to a stretching McIntire, leaned over with his stick resting across his thighs. “With the goalie.”

“Maxy says they’re close,” Luke tells me. I nod. Nate is always talking about him. “He also says that he’s got terrible performance anxiety and that he thinks he sucks.”

“Nate said the same thing.” Leaning back, I divide my attention between Max and Nate, watching as they stretch and warm up. “He’s good right up until he makes a mistake. They blew that three-point lead in their last game because he let in four goals in ten minutes.”

“And then he got pulled, right?” Luke clarifies. “Which, you know, probably did loads for his self-esteem.”

“It’s a hard call to make, I think. If the goalie is hemorrhaging points, the coach really doesn’t have a choice but to yank them.”

Luke nods in agreement, eyes tracking Max as the game starts.

Even though I’d prefer to watch from the comfort of our living room, it’s impossible not to have fun at a live game.

The energy is so high, it’s infectious—beside me, Luke’s knee is bouncing up and down as he watches.

He hasn’t once sat back in his seat. I don’t even need to watch the game to know when Max has the puck, Luke’s reactions telling me everything I need to know.

As is typical, Max is the first to score but it’s called back when the play is deemed to be offside. Luke grumbles a few colorful expletives about the referee as he sits back down.

“That was not offside,” he tells me. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Do you even know what that means? ”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Okay, no.”

We lucked out and are ending our season playing a team that is finishing at the bottom of the standings.

McIntire has only had to make fourteen saves in the two periods of play we’ve had so far, and he’s managed to stop each one.

On the opposite end of the ice, the netminder hasn’t been so lucky.

As the teams leave the ice for second intermission, the score is sitting at 4—0 in favor of us—two of which were earned by Vasel, one by Max, and the last by a defenseman I don’t recognize.

“Performance anxiety my ass, that goalie is killing it!” Luke says happily, watching Max until he’s out of sight in the locker room before turning to me. “I’m so fucking excited to watch him play in the NHL.”

“He might not play much, or at all, the first year,” I warn. Luke waves a hand and makes a disbelieving face.

“He will. He’s going down in hockey history, mark my words.”

“Consider them marked.” He laughs.

“Max tells me you’re off to Montana.” I nod. “Just so you know, he was, like, super excited about it when he told me. He’s really happy for you.”

I glance at Luke. I’ve wavered several times on my decision to spend the summer with Nate.

Not only will this be the longest stretch of time Max and I have ever spent apart, but it’s also a massive turning point in his life.

He’s starting his NHL career this summer, and I know he’s nervous about it.

He might not need me with him, but what if he does and I’m not there?

“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing,” I admit.

“You are. Is he going to miss you? Yes. But he wants you to be happy, and in his mind you won’t be happy going with him to Detroit—you’ll be happy with Nate.”

“That’s not true?—”

“Of course not,” Luke agrees, bumping me with his elbow. “But you know how Maxy is. He’s worried about you. He doesn’t want you making big decisions only based on him.”

He’s right. Life used to be so easy before we moved here, but now things are muddled—everything that happened at the party and afterward, the NHL, and of course Luke himself. I hadn’t been expecting Luke, and I certainly hadn’t been expecting him to hold such a huge presence in Max’s life.

“I’m scared for him,” I admit. Luke, I know, is the only other person in the world who understands this fear.

“I know. But between the both of us, I think he’ll be all right. I’ll have him in Detroit during the hockey season, and you can have him in Montana during the summer. Joint custody.”

“I’m not moving to Montana, Luke. I’ll be there for a couple months for vacation.”

“Mm, sure. Oh shut up, there’s Max.”

He sits forward in his seat once more, eyes on the ice. I don’t bother telling him that he was the one talking and therefore the one that needs to shut up and pay attention. Shaking my head, I search for Nate.

His line is on the bench and he’s leaning back, gesturing as he says something to Coach Mackenzie, who’s bent over him. As it always does when I look at him, my stomach seems to crawl up into my throat and my brain turns a little fuzzy. He’s beautiful and happy and a little bit wild.

And right now he’s mine.

Nate’s skin has a faint greenish tinge to it when he picks me up from the airport in Montana. He looks almost painfully relieved to see me, and immediately pulls me into a bone-crushing hug when I reach him. It’s only been a week and a half since school ended, and we were last together.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he mumbles into my neck, where his face is smushed. I run a soothing hand down his back, feeling pretty pleased with the greeting.

“I told you I would be,” I remind him. In fact, he’d been in the room and watching when I’d booked my flight. Peeling himself away from me, he rests his hands on my shoulders and smiles, eyes skating rapidly over my face as though he wants to ensure I haven’t changed in a week.

“You hungry? We’ve got a long drive, so if you wanted to grab food, we could stop somewhere,” he offers, thumb brushing idly across my neck as he talks. I don’t even think he’s aware he’s doing it, since he’s usually careful about the way he touches me.

“Sure,” I agree. He smiles and looks up as the baggage carousel starts rotating.

I offer my hand to him, palm facing up, and watch his eyes light up as he links his fingers between mine. Nate is a hand-holder and a snuggler and a kiss-in-public kind of guy. I can’t always meet the need, but today it’s as easy as breathing. I missed him, too.

As promised, the drive is long. But the view out the windows is pretty, and the company is great. By the time he turns the truck down a gravel drive, it hardly feels like any time has passed. He brings us to a stop in front of a metal gate, headlights glinting off the surface in the dark .

“Just a second,” he requests, before hopping out and leaving the driver’s door open. I click off my seat belt.

“I can grab it,” I offer, once he’s back in the vehicle and driving through the open gate.

Before he can argue, I’m out of the truck and closing it behind us.

Gravel crunching under my feet and the soft rumble of the truck idling are the only sounds; the headlights provide the only illumination beyond the moon.

It feels like we’re in the middle of nowhere.

When I inhale, I smell nothing but crisp pine and fresh air.

“So, this is your uncle’s driveway?” I ask once I’m back in the cab. He nods, driving slowly and keeping his eyes facing forward.

“Yeah. We’ll go by his house on the right. I’ll give you the full tour tomorrow, though.” He glances over at me in the dark interior of the car, grinning. I really did miss him, no matter that it hasn’t even been two weeks since we were together and we’ve talked every day on the phone.

“Thanks again for inviting me.”

“I’ve never been so excited as I was this past week, waiting for you to arrive,” he tells me, making me laugh.

I reach over the center console and rest my hand on his leg.

“I’ve got so many fucking plans. We’re going to go camping, and fishing—so much fishing—and I’ve got a surprise for you. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“A surprise?” I ask warily.

“Tomorrow! You’re going to love it. My parents are going to stop by for a visit after their cruise, before heading home, so they can meet you. But that will only be for a few days. Mostly, it’ll be us and Uncle Jes holding down the fort.”

I’m so focused on watching Nate’s face as he talks that I don’t notice that we’ve arrived until he turns the vehicle off.

Motion lights have clicked on at our approach, and there’s just enough light to see the front of what is obviously a barn.

Two massive sliding doors take up the majority of the exterior wall, with a small single door to the side.

Nate grabs my bag and excitedly gestures for me to exit the truck.

Unlocking the single door, he reaches in and turns on the interior light, before stepping back and letting me precede him inside.