Page 21 of Across the Boards

“Another glowing review. I’m on a roll.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

We stand there for a moment, the silence charged with unspoken possibilities. I should go inside. I should thank him again, return his jacket, and close the door. That would be the sensible thing to do.

Instead, I find myself lingering, reluctant for the evening to end.

“Elliot,” he says finally, his voice soft. “Would you consider going to the charity gala with me?”

The question shouldn’t surprise me—we’ve been dancing around it all evening—but somehow it does. “Brody...”

“Just as friends,” he adds quickly. “No pressure. I just... I’d like to have a reason to talk to you in a room full of hockey people.”

I study his face, looking for any sign of insincerity or ulterior motive. But all I see is genuine hope and a surprising vulnerability.

“The hockey world isn’t exactly my favorite place,” I say carefully.

“I know.” He takes a step closer, not crowding but close enough that I have to tilt my head slightly to maintain eye contact. “But maybe it would be different this time. With someone in your corner.”

The implication is clear: he would be different from Jason. He would be in my corner, not parading me around like a trophy or leaving me alone at the first sight of a reporter.

“I haven’t been to a hockey event in three years,” I confess.

“I know that too.” His voice is gentle. “And I understand if it’s too much. But I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

His words resonate in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Three years of avoiding anything hockey-related, of rebuilding my life away from that world. Maybe it is time to reclaim some of what I lost. On my terms, this time.

“If I say yes,” I begin cautiously, “it’s just as friends. No expectations.”

Hope lights up his face. “Absolutely. Just friends.”

“And I reserve the right to leave at any time if it gets uncomfortable.”

“Of course.” He nods seriously. “I’ll even create a signal. If you tug your ear, I’ll fake a medical emergency and whisk you away.”

I laugh despite myself. “That won’t be necessary. But I appreciate the commitment to the escape plan.”

“So... is that a yes?” His expression is so hopeful, so earnest, that something in my chest tightens.

I should say no. I really should. But standing here in the soft glow of my porch light, the taste of tiramisu still on my lips, “no” is the furthest thing from my mind.

“Yes,” I say finally. “I’ll go to the gala with you. As friends,” I add firmly.

His smile is warm and bright and full of promise. “As friends,” he agrees, though something in his eyes suggests he’s hoping for more.

And if I’m being completely honest with myself, maybe I am too.

* * *

The morningafter my birthday feels different somehow. I wake with a strange, unfamiliar feeling—something almost like anticipation. Coffee in hand, I find myself standing at my window, looking at Brody’s townhouse next door. Last night’s dinner replays in my mind: his casual confidence, the way he listened when I spoke, that crooked smile that appeared whenever he caught me watching him.

It’s... unsettling. Not in the way Jason’s attention had been—demanding, evaluating—but in how it makes me want things I’d carefully locked away after the divorce.

I pull out my phone, scrolling to Sarah’s text from earlier.

So? Are you going to the gala with him or what? Tommy says Brody’s been insufferable at practice, checking his phone every five minutes.

I set down my coffee and do something I haven’t done in three years—make an impulsive decision about a man.

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