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SEVENTEEN

ETHAN

The satisfying sound of my skates cutting through fresh ice echoed in the empty rink.

For as long as I could remember, I’d loved that sound.

I’d discovered it when I was around five or six when I’d arrive at practice early to work on stick and puck handling.

All these years later it still calmed me, a constant no matter what was happening in my life.

After an hour of familiar drills, my head remained cluttered, thoughts bouncing between last night with Andre and today’s speech.

Last night had been incredible. The comfortable dinner conversation, Andre’s eyes lighting up as he described his summer camp plans, the electricity of the unexpected make-out session at the lake.

Every hot detail played on repeat in my mind.

A goofy grin spread across my face even as I lined up shots.

The puck hit the back of the net with a satisfying swoosh. I retrieved the dozen or so I’d shot and set them up again at the red line, determined to focus on the mechanics of the game rather than the memory of Andre’s naked body.

Despite wanting to focus on pucks, I was wondering if he was awake yet and if a good morning text might seem too eager?

The kiss he’d given me when we’d said good night suggested otherwise.

I shook my head vigorously and skated full speed to the opposite end of the rink. I picked up the puck and shot it once I crossed the blue line. It went wide, the thunk against the boards reverberating loudly.

“Get it together, Gallagher,” I muttered, skating back to try again.

The speech loomed large. And it was just a few hours away.

Despite having memorized every word, practicing it in the mirror and with my moms, butterflies still swarmed in my stomach. Letting Andre down—letting the whole town down—wasn’t an option.

The next shot found the net.

The familiar rhythm of skate, shoot, repeat had some effect on quieting my mind, but I couldn’t hide on the ice all day.

As I began another run, Andre’s vision for the summer camp rose to the forefront of my thoughts. His dedication to creating safe spaces and supporting the community resonated with me. That kind of thing was exactly why I’d set up the Maplewood Foundation.

My property had more than enough space for what he’d envisioned…

The puck clanged off the post, making me wince. One date and already I was imagining our futures intertwined.

Some people jumped to the moving-in stage. I’d skipped ahead to starting a massive project.

I switched to defensive drills, carrying a puck as I skated backwards.

The sound of the rink’s door brought me to a stop. The clock showed forty minutes before the morning session. Tommy and Milo stood at the open door, already geared up and carrying water bottles and sticks.

Tommy took a bottle from Milo so he could swipe on his phone. When Milo gave a quick nod, Tommy started talking. “We didn’t mean to interrupt. We didn’t expect anyone to be out already.”

Milo’s gaze moved between his phone screen and us.

“No problem. Just running some drills. You’re welcome to join.”

Milo’s eyes lit with enthusiasm. “Really? That would be awesome.”

“You working on anything specific?” Tommy asked as they came onto the ice.

“Just shaking off some nerves about the speech later.” A partial truth, but appropriate for teenage ears.

“You’re going to be great,” Tommy said with absolute certainty—a confidence I desperately wished to borrow.

“I appreciate that. And I’m mostly sure you’re right. You know how it is when you have to do something you’re not used to.”

Tommy nodded. “Oh yeah, I hate having to get in front of the class to do a report.”

“And this will be bigger than any classroom.” I thought for a moment. “How about we do some two-on-one drills? See if you two can get past me?”

They shared a look loaded with unspoken communication.

“You’re on,” Tommy said.

They skated to the bench and put the water bottles and Milo’s phone down while I gathered most of the pucks into the net. I shot one to the far end of the ice and they took off after it. I drifted into the neutral zone to see what they’d do.

What followed impressed me. Tommy and Milo moved with seamless coordination, clearly having practiced beyond regular sessions. They anticipated each other’s moves, communicated through subtle signals, and slipped several shots past me.

After Milo faked a shot and passed to Tommy for a perfect goal, I couldn’t hold back the praise. “That was beautiful,” I spoke and signed as we got water at the bench. “The way you read each other’s movements, that’s the chemistry that makes great pairings.”

They beamed at the compliment.

Milo dropped his gloves to sign while he spoke. “Dixon’s worked with us on our passing game and what works well between defense and wings. He says the best plays come from trusting your teammate to be where they need to be.”

“He’s right.” I grabbed another quick drink. “Want to try again? This time I’ll be ready for that fake out.”

We ran through several more drills, then switched it up so I’d play offense with each of them.

Fifteen minutes before the start time, more players arrived. We exited the ice and removed our helmets and gloves at the bleachers.

“Thanks, Coach Ethan,” Milo said. “That was fun.”

Liam walked in, coffees in hand and wearing his usual calm smile. “Starting the party without me?” He approached us.

Tommy and I simultaneously signed Liam’s words for Milo, whose phone remained on the players’ bench. Tommy’s signing continued to get more confident every day.

“These two are showing me up,” I said. “They’ve got moves we’ll need to watch out for in the exhibition game.”

Tommy and Milo exchanged excited glances. We hadn’t officially announced the game roster yet, although we planned to make sure all the campers got some ice time with the guests who were coming in.

“Get yourselves ready,” I told them. “See you back out there in a few minutes.”

They nodded and returned to the ice, leaving me with Liam.

“Here.” He handed me the second coffee. “If I’d known you’d be here so early, I would’ve shown up with it sooner.”

“No worries.” The warm drink hit the spot. “Just needed some ice time. Ended up running drills with those two.”

“While you’ve been skating, everything’s fallen into place for today’s arrivals. Caleb and Kyle are driving in from the airport together, arriving around ten thirty. Cole and Miles hope to make the opening ceremony if traffic cooperates. Everyone else comes in this afternoon and tonight.”

“Perfect. So many coaches here at once will be amazing for the campers.” I loved that friends took the time to come in for the game and to coach. Caleb and Cole played for New York alongside Dix. Kyle was in Phoenix, while Miles played for Kyle’s former team in Detroit.

“This group is certainly getting the VIP treatment.” Liam sipped his drink, then fixed me with an expectant look.

“What?” I asked when his stare lingered.

“Don’t what me. I need details about last night.”

A smile spread across my face. “It was amazing. The best date I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?” His grin matched mine. “Tell me everything. Well, maybe not everything-everything.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I said, though memories of our time by the pond heated my cheeks. “Well, okay, maybe there was everything-everything. Far more than I’d ever considered doing with Andre Thompson.” Liam’s mouth formed an O, followed by an approving nod. “We connected. Talked a lot.”

“That’s how it is when it’s right.” Liam clapped me on the shoulder. “So what brings you here shooting pucks so early? That’s your stress reliever move.”

I sighed, watching the campers warm up. “We might be moving too fast. Plus the speech later, the festival, that the summer is short.”

“One thing at a time, E.” Liam’s voice blended gentleness with firmness.

His ability to talk that way was one thing that made him a fantastic coach.

“The speech will be fine. We can run through it now if you want. As for Andre…” He paused thoughtfully.

“Remember how everything seemed so intense and important at their age?” He gestured toward the skaters.

His point hit home. Those intense teenage feelings had contributed to years of Andre and me being at odds. “We’re not teenagers anymore.”

“Exactly. You’re both adults who know what you want. Sometimes things move fast because they’re meant to.” He bumped my shoulder. “Stop overthinking it.”

“Rom-com advice again?”

“You know it.” His serious expression cracked into a grin.

I chuckled and drained half the coffee. “Let’s hit the locker room. I’ll practice the speech while you get your skates on.”

He clapped me on the back as we started walking.

In the locker room, I stood a few feet away while he sat to remove his sneakers.

“Okay, here we go.” Deep breath. “Thank you, everyone, for that welcome. To be honest, when I was asked to be the grand marshal of this year’s Pride festival, my first thought was, you’ve got the wrong guy .

I’ve always been more comfortable… skating… uhm…”

Shit. Three sentences in and already floundering.

“Hey, you were doing great,” Liam encouraged. “No rush. Remember what Elena always says about taking your time?”

I nodded and tried again. This time my voice betrayed me, shaking as I described what growing up here had taught me.

“Want to know what I think?” Liam asked when I stopped.

“Always.”

“You’re trying too hard for perfection. The town doesn’t want perfect—they want you.

The kid who grew up here, learned how to play hockey, and returned to share his experience.

Messing up or your voice breaking doesn’t matter.

” He finished tying his skates and looked up.

“Talk to them like you talk to the camp kids, to me, to your moms. Be yourself.”

“That simple, huh?”

“That simple.” He stood. “Try again but imagine you’re just talking to Andre.”

The suggestion caught me off guard. “Andre?”

“He believes in you. Focus on him in the crowd. Tell him your story.”

I closed my eyes, picturing Andre’s encouraging smile, the warmth of his hand as he’d squeezed mine. Steadiness replaced anxiety when I opened my eyes.

The words flowed naturally this time. I stumbled in places but it felt authentic, unforced. When I finished, Liam beamed.

“That’s it. Try to do that this afternoon.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now let’s coach some hockey.”

As we headed back, confidence replaced the morning’s doubt. The butterflies remained—they always would—but now they were manageable. I could do this.

“Hey, Liam?” I paused before stepping onto the ice. “Thanks.”

“Always got your back, E.”