Chapter 26 #2
I leaned back against the couch. “Evan said he’s in love with me but he doesn’t know if it’s enough. And I told him I love him too, but I don’t know if that’s enough either. And then I got ejected from a game we’d already lost and now I’m suspended.”
Miguel let out a long breath. “Okay. That’s a lot.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I’ve been avoiding the hard choices,” I said. “In both directions. Not fully showing up to hockey because I’m worried about Evan. Not fully showing up to Evan because I’m exhausted from hockey. And calling it love when some of it’s just… not deciding.”
Miguel was quiet for a moment. That was the thing about him—he didn’t fill silences just to fill them, he waited until he had something worth saying. “That sounds right,” he said finally. “And I think you already know what the hard choice is.”
“I need to stop managing and start deciding.”
“Yeah. What do you want, Nico? Not what you can have. Not what’s fair. What do you actually want?”
“I want to play hockey the way I know how to play it,” I said.
“Without my personal life bleeding onto the ice. I want to be part of this team without feeling guilty about it.” I took a deep breath.
“And I want Evan. I want the life I thought we were building. The version where being together in public isn’t a problem we have to solve every time. Where it’s just… normal.”
“Is that version available right now?”
“No.”
“So what version is available?”
“One where he’s trying to get there, and I’m trying to get there, and we’re both doing the actual work instead of just saying we are.”
“Is he doing the work?”
“I don’t know. I asked for space.”
“Maybe find out what he’s actually doing before you decide it isn’t enough.”
After we hung up, I sat there for a long time.
Then I checked my messages.
Twenty-three from Evan. Most of them variations of the same thing—I love you, I’m sorry, please talk to me, please don’t give up on us.
I read them all. Sat with them.
Then I put my phone down and didn’t respond. Not yet. I needed one more day to be sure I knew what I was going to say.
Tuesday evening, the team played Minnesota without me.
I watched from home. We were down 5–2 by the third.
I sat on my couch watching guys I’d played with for years, and the absence felt like a physical thing.
Third minute of the second period, André set up a two-on-one that should have been a goal, a play we’d run a hundred times, the kind where I’d have been the second man.
Fortin took the shot instead and missed wide.
I knew exactly where I would have been standing.
My phone buzzed.
Evan
Watching the game. I’m sorry you’re not out there.
I looked at the message for a long time. It was the first one I’d answered in two days.
Nico
Me too.
Three dots.
Evan
They need you out there. I can see it.
Something in my chest loosened slightly. He was watching closely enough to see the gap. Paying attention in a way that mattered.
Nico
We’ll talk soon.
Evan
Okay. I love you.
Nico
I love you too.
I put my phone down and watched the rest of the game. We lost 6–2.
Tuesday night I slept better than I had all week. I’d said we’d talk soon. That was something to move toward.
Wednesday morning, I got to the rink early.
Practice was hard—two days away felt like two weeks in my legs—but I worked.
Kept my head down. Focused on the drills and not on anything else.
Coach watched me the whole time with that assessing look, and I let him watch.
I wasn’t going to act okay. I was just going to do the work and let it speak for itself.
After practice, I sat at my stall and checked my phone.
One new message from Evan. Sent an hour ago.
Evan
I called Wesley this morning. We’re doing a video call tomorrow.
I know it’s not everything, but I’m trying to actually do something instead of just saying I am.
I went to the grocery store this morning.
First time since the woman recognized me.
Made it through without checking my phone once..
I’m not okay yet. But I’m trying to get there.
He’d called Wesley. On his own, without me pushing it. And he’d left his apartment and gotten through an hour without the compulsive monitoring—which, for where he’d been three weeks ago, was real progress.
It wasn’t everything. But it was specific. It was actual movement, not just words.
I started typing. Deleted it. Started again.
Nico
That’s good. Both of those things.
Evan
Can I see you? Not to talk about everything. Just to see you.
He’d gotten there himself. Not because I’d pushed him. And I’d spent two days figuring out that the problem wasn’t just him; it was both of us avoiding the hard choices in different ways. He’d started making different choices. It was time I did the same.
Nico
Yeah. Come over tonight. After work.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Evan
Really?
Nico
Yeah. I want to see you too.
Evan
I’ll be there around seven. I love you.
Nico
I love you too.
I put my phone away and sat there for a moment, feeling something that wasn’t quite resolution but was next to it. We still had things to say. Hard things, specific things, the conversation we’d been circling for weeks that needed to actually happen.
But I was showing up to practice, keeping my head down, getting ready to have the conversation instead of avoiding it.
That was enough to start with.