Page 3 of Across the Boards

“I didn’t think they’d want me back,” I said. “Not after how things ended.”

My agent waved dismissively. “Ancient history. Different management now, different coaching staff. Half the roster has turned over.”

All true, yet insufficient to explain the sudden tightness in my chest. “Is Martinez still there?”

My agent’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Jason Martinez? No, he was traded to Miami last year. Why?”

Relief washed through me, followed immediately by another thought. If Jason was gone, then Elliot...

“Just wondering about the leadership situation,” I covered quickly. “After playing against them last season, I know they’ve had some locker room challenges.”

But my mind was already racing with possibilities I couldn’t voice aloud. Was Elliot still in Phoenix? Had she stayed after the divorce? The gossip had reached even Boston’s locker room—Martinez caught cheating with an ice girl, divorce papers filed, a settlement that apparently favored Elliot substantially.

I wanted to take Boston’s offer. The safer choice. The one that didn’t involve revisiting unresolved feelings for a woman who’d been firmly off-limits when we’d met and who likely wanted nothing to do with hockey or its players now.

But as I looked out at the Boston skyline that night, I realized I’d grown restless here. Three good years, solid teammates, decent success—but always with the sense that I was hiding. That I’d let circumstances and Jason Martinez dictate my path once before.

Three days later, I called my agent. “I’m in. Tell Phoenix I accept.”

* * *

One monthafter returning to Phoenix, I was jogging through my new neighborhood—a modest complex of connected townhouses with shared green spaces. The late morning sun was already fierce, forcing me to abandon my shirt after the first mile.

Rounding a corner near the central park area, I slowed when I spotted someone working at a table under the pergola. A woman with dark hair pulled back in a loose knot, focused intently on her laptop.

My steps faltered as recognition hit. Elliot. Older, if possible even more beautiful, absorbed in her work just as she’d been in that book years ago.

She looked up at my approach, her expression shifting from polite curiosity to shock as she realized who I was.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said, trying for casual though my heart was racing in a way that had nothing to do with my run. “Just exploring the complex. I didn’t realize this park area was back here.”

“It’s a nice spot,” she managed. “Quiet, usually.”

“I’m Brody,” I said, extending my hand with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Brody Carter. Just moved in to Unit 14.”

“Elliot Waltman,” she replied, accepting my handshake with a strange sense of déjà vu. She’d dropped the Martinez, I noted with private satisfaction.

“Elliot,” I repeated. “Nice to meet you. Again.”

“You remember.” It wasn’t a question.

“A conversation with you wasn’t easily forgotten,” I said. “Especially when it was the most interesting discussion I’d had in months.”

Color rose to her cheeks. “That was a long time ago.”

“A few years, give or take.” I shifted, suddenly aware of my shirtless state. “Sorry about...” I gestured at my torso, “this. Phoenix heat. I forgot how brutal it can be after a few years away.”

“It’s fine,” she said, though her eyes darted away quickly. “You’re back with Phoenix now?”

“Just signed last month. Two-year contract.” I paused, studying her. She seemed both different and the same—the same intelligence in her eyes, but a new guardedness, a careful distance that hadn’t been there before. “I should let you get back to work. But maybe we could continue that literary debate sometime? I finally read Pride and Prejudice.”

“I should really finish this project,” she said, gesturing to her laptop. “Deadlines.”

“Of course.” I nodded, not pushing, but not entirely deterred either. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again. Small complex.”

“I’m sure we will.” Her tone was noncommittal, but something flickered in her eyes—interest? Apprehension? Both?

As I jogged away, I couldn’t help glancing back. She was still watching me, a small furrow between her brows.

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