Page 207 of Men in Shorts

“Okay, but if the game ended now, it would be all even. Right?”

John looked at him askance. “How would it end now, short of a meteor strike?”

“This is how.” Brodie took off his right glove and extended his hand to Duncan. “Good game.”

“Sorry?” Duncan squinted at him. “I don’t get it.”

“I’m conceding,” Brodie said. “Game over, 3-3. Nobody wins and nobody loses.”

“Are you sure?” Duncan’s eyes were asking about more than the game.

Brodie stepped closer and lowered his voice. “We can talk like adults about our relationship. We can do it without hurting each other, even if neither of us is obligated by a stupid bet to shut up.” He moved closer still, his hand open between them. “I have faith in us.”

“What’s going on, lads?” Heather hurried over to them, putting her arms out for balance. “Game’s not over. We can still win.”

“Wewillwin,” John added. “You may be skip now, Brodie, but this has to be a group decision.” He waved down the sheet, beckoning their two teammates to join them. “And I for one want to play this out.”

Brodie pointed his broom at John. “You made this happen, mate. You pushed me and Duncan into a surprise reunion. We needed time alone to talk, but you decided to just toss us into the pot and stir, hoping for the best. It could’ve been a disaster.”

“Erm…sorry about that.” John looked nervously at the gathering crowd, which now included both teams and coaches. “But I cannae understand how conceding will help.”

“You don’t need to understand,” Duncan told him. Then he held out his hand for Brodie to shake. “Good game.”

“So what exactly is happening?” Heather asked. “With the curling, I mean.”

“We’re calling it a draw.” Brodie grasped Duncan’s hand and held on. It felt too good, toorightto let go.

Heather laughed. “Lads, there’s no tying in curling. It’s not football or chess.”

“But what if Brodie had missed his last shot,” Duncan’s dad asked her, “and the score was even?”

“Then you play an extra end,” Luca said.

Load groans erupted from both teams, the word “Nooooo” echoing off the rink wall. Ellie sank down onto the nearest bench, looking like she might not move for hours.

“We’re all so knackered.” Caroline gripped Luca’s elbow. “Can we not just stop?”

Brodie squeezed Duncan’s hand, then released it. The two of them needed out of here, pronto.

Garen burst through the warm-room door, sleigh bells jangling. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“They want to declare a tie,” Luca told him. “No winners or losers.”

Garen gawped at them. “There’s no tying in curling!”

“Why not,” Brodie asked, “if it’s what we all want?”

“Cos I’ve only got one first-place trophy!” Garen clutched at his antlers, seeming on the verge of a meltdown. “And one second-place trophy. I had them specially made. I had everything sorted. Everything!”

“Okay. So, Garen? Mate?” Luca rubbed Garen’s back in what seemed a familiar move. “Why don’t we go into the warm room and discuss it, all right? Just you and me.”

“But—”

“It’s okay.” Luca’s voice held a soothing hum, like a yoga instructor Brodie had once had. “They can wait.”

Garen gave a shaky nod, then followed Luca back through the door.

“Is he okay?” Brodie asked John. “He told us this was his first event.”

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