Epilogue
By the final Saturday of September, the white card above Caleb’s stall had been replaced with a proper Northeasterners nameplate.
The team opened its regular season at home that night. By puck drop, the Gardens was three-quarters full. Frank had warned the new players not to expect much from a September crowd.
“People remember we exist around November,” he had said. “That’s when Thursday nights run out of alternatives.” It felt plenty full to Caleb.
Caleb waited in the tunnel with the rest of the team, listed at centre on the third line.
His skates had received a fresh edge that afternoon.
Beyond the gate came the scrape of blades, sticks striking the boards, and the arena announcer’s voice carrying over the crowd. Veil Lake had never sounded like this.
The gate opened.
Caleb’s first shift passed too quickly to really enjoy it.
He reached the puck late along the boards, sent a safe pass behind the net, and changed when Thib called for it.
On his second shift, he won a battle in the neutral zone and carried the puck across the blue line before losing it to a defenceman who read the play just that much sooner than him.
The third line was where Caleb belonged. He could manage the pace without pretending he had mastered it.
Through the first period, he remained conscious of everything: the crowd, the coaches behind him, the unfamiliar names being called from the bench.
In the second, the game began to take up more of his attention.
By the third, he was no longer checking whether he looked like someone who belonged. He was trying to win a hockey game.
Midway through the second period, Caleb came off after a long shift and reached for the water bottle. That was when he saw Connor.
He sat three rows above the glass in a dark jacket with a Lakehead hoodie underneath. His elbows rested on his knees, and his attention followed the play rather than the puck. He had chosen the best section for watching the offensive zone develop.
Connor did not wave. He was simply there.
The puck changed possession, and Frank called the third line.
Caleb went over the boards. In the neutral zone, he drew a defender towards him and hit Thib in stride on the right wing. Thib carried the puck across the blue line and sent a shot off the goaltender’s blocker.
When they returned to the bench, Thib sat beside him.
“Your boyfriend?” he asked.
Caleb took a drink of water. “Yeah.”
“Good. Now don’t start performing for him. I don’t want to cover your man when you forget where he is.”
“I won’t.”
“You were late on your last backcheck.”
“Yeah, he’ll have noticed that too.”
“Sounds like a hockey player.”
The next line came off, and Thib went over the boards.
The Northeasterners won 3–1. Caleb didn’t score, but he finished the game without giving up a goal while he was on the ice. He made two plays he wanted to remember and several he knew Connor would want to talk about later.
Afterward, the dressing room filled with music and the noise of equipment hitting the floor.
Frank praised their forecheck, criticized two changes, and reminded them that this was just their first game and they had a lot of hard work in the season ahead.
The veterans struck the walls of their stalls with their gloves in approval.
Caleb showered and dressed. By the time he reached the players’ exit, most of the crowd had cleared from the building.
Connor waited outside the players’ exit with his hands in his jacket pockets. A folded ticket protruded from one pocket.
Caleb handed him the gear bag. Connor set it down and pulled him into a hug. Caleb went willingly, wrapping both arms around him despite the players still coming through the door behind them. Connor’s jacket was cold beneath his hands.
“You were late on the backcheck in the second,” Connor murmured.
Caleb pulled back. “You drove ninety minutes, and that’s your first full sentence?”
“I took your bag and hugged you first. The backcheck comment was third.”
“Fair enough,” Caleb said with a laugh.
“The pass to Thib was good. You held the puck until the defender committed, and you gave Thib room to enter with speed.”
“I know.”
“You’re allowed to let me compliment you.”
“I was just trying to figure out whether that was a compliment or the start of a longer evaluation.”
“It can be both.” Connor touched the folded ticket in his pocket. “You looked like you belonged out there.”
Caleb reached over and pulled the ticket free. “You picked that seat because you knew I would find you.”
“I wanted you to know I was here.”
“I like knowing you are here.”
Caleb folded the ticket along its existing crease. “Thib says hi. He also said you would have approved of the pass in the second.”
“He was right.”
“You’ve been waiting all night to say that.”
Connor had become the Northeasterners’ most ardent fan ever since Caleb arrived in Thunder Bay.
He liked Thib, both as a friend of Caleb’s and as a player.
He knew all the players from the hockey side of things.
He knew Thib’s penalty-killing numbers, Lambert’s faceoff habits, and which defencemen Frank trusted late in a close game.
On Connor’s first visit two weeks earlier, he had recognized Thib in the corridor before Caleb introduced them.
“This is Connor,” Caleb had said. “My boyfriend.”
It was the first time he had used the word with anyone on the team. He hadn’t planned it or prepared a speech. They had talked about it the night before and agreed to take this step forward.
Thib shook Connor’s hand. “I wondered but didn’t want to assume. You watched practices like you were either a coach or had other interests.”
“Right on both counts,” Connor laughed.
“Don’t encourage him,” Caleb told Thib.
After that, the conversation had moved on naturally.
“Three guys know now,” Caleb said. “I haven’t made an announcement. I’ve just stopped calling you ‘my friend from Veil Lake’ when they ask what I’m doing on weekends.”
“What do you call me?”
“I just said. My boyfriend.”
“I know, I just like hearing it.”
“So do I.”
Connor rested his hand at the back of Caleb’s neck. “Have you eaten since lunch? Actual food. Not just a protein bar.”
“I had two.”
“That still doesn’t count.”
“There’s a diner nearby that stays open late. The burgers are decent, and the coffee is only slightly dangerous.”
“That sounds suitable.”
Connor shifted Caleb’s bag to his outside shoulder and took his hand as they crossed the parking lot. At the truck, he stowed the bag in the back and removed a white key sleeve from his jacket. Caleb recognized the hotel logo from Connor’s previous visit.
“Same place?” he asked.
“Better room. I traded my Sunday shift, so I’m not driving home first thing tomorrow.”
“I have you for the whole weekend?” The question was caught between mischief and delight.
“The last time I drove back after midnight, you gave me puppy dog eyes for an hour before I left. I’m capable of learning.”
“Slowly.”
Connor held up the key. “Do you want the room or not?”
Caleb caught the front of Connor’s jacket and pulled him in for a kiss.
Connor pressed him against the passenger door, one hand sliding beneath Caleb’s jacket to the warm skin at his waist. Caleb savoured the taste of Connor’s mouth and the pull of his fingers beneath the edge of his shirt. He had missed both.
When Caleb drew back, Connor kept his hand against his skin.
“Diner first,” Caleb said. “Then the room. I need the energy and you can save the rest of your notes until breakfast.”
“The notes can wait.”
Connor opened the passenger door, then stopped Caleb with a hand on his hip.
“You played good tonight,” he said. “Not just for your first regular-season game. You played really good.”
Caleb climbed into the truck. “I know.”
Connor drove past the turn Caleb had given him.
“That was the diner.”
“I know.”
“What’s happening right now?”
“I found something better.”
The restaurant was on Fort William Road, brighter than the place Caleb had suggested and busy enough that they had to park near the back of the lot. Through the front windows, Caleb could see red booths, hanging lights, a few patrons, and a familiar backwards cap.
He stopped in his tracks as he walked into the place.
Connor put his arm around his shoulders. “They wanted to surprise you.”
Maya was out of the booth before Caleb made it through the door. She reached him near the counter and wrapped both arms around him.
“You came,” Caleb said.
“Obviously. It was your first real game.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“That is generally how a surprise works.”
Riley remained beside the booth, smiling as Maya released him.
She had finished her Saturday route in Thunder Bay that afternoon, and Maya had ridden down with her.
On Wednesday, Maya had called Connor and told him they planned to attend the game.
Connor had known they were sitting across the ice throughout all three periods.
“Why didn’t you come down after the game?” Caleb asked.
“Riley said you and Connor should have some time alone first.”
“I said they had been living ninety minutes apart for a month,” Riley corrected. “Your sister could survive another twenty minutes while you two studs made out.”
“Thanks for that mental imagery,” Maya said dryly.
They sat with Caleb and Connor on one side and Maya and Riley opposite them, a natural arrangement that required no discussion.
“You looked like you knew what you were doing on the ice,” Maya said once they had menus.
“From you, that’s almost extravagant praise.”
“Don’t make me reconsider.”
Riley opened her menu. “Your backchecking needs work.”
Caleb leaned against the booth. “Connor had the exact same observation.”
“Then he was watching the right game.”
Connor picked up his coffee. “I like her.”
“You already liked her,” Caleb said.
“But I like her more now.”