Page 53 of Hearts on Ice
He angled the phone toward the kitchen and shouted, “¡Carmen, mira quién es!”Look who it is!
Carmen’s voice floated back, bright and teasing. “Hola, Miguel.”
“Hola, cuñada,” I greeted her.Sister-in-law.They weren’t married, but with Carmen, I’d never needed paperwork to call her family “¿Y Elena?” I asked. “¿Está bien?”
“She’s at the table again,” Carmen said fondly. “Filling her sketchbook with another zoo. I think she’s on her third page already.”
Manu laughed, eyes creasing deeper at the corners, and I did too. For a second, the noise of their home—the fan, the laughter, the distant traffic—felt like a heartbeat I’d been missing.
And maybe that was why I thought of Coach then—of how I’d known him for five years, seen him every day, and only now was realizing I’d been blind to something that had been there all along. Sometimes you could look at someone a hundred times and only see them once.
“You look tired, hermano,” he said. “Everything okay? Long week?” Manu’s eyes carried a kind of tenderness that came from learning what pain costs.
“Just practice,” I said. “We play St. Louis tonight.”
He nodded, wiping sweat from his temple. “They hit hard, those guys. Protect the ribs, ¿sí?”
He always said that before games, a mix of teasing and protection—like every brother’s way of sayingtake care of yourselfwithout actually saying it.
He leaned closer to the camera. “You’ve got that face, Miguelito. Same one you had when you broke Abuela’s crucifix and tried to glue it back straight.”
I huffed a laugh. “Don’t remind me.”
“So?” His grin turned sly. “What’s her name?”
I hesitated. The air felt thicker. “It’s… complicated.”
“Ah.” His tone softened, teasing less now. “Complicado. That usually means important. Tell me.”
I exhaled, buying time. “It’s not like that,” I said slowly. “It just… wasn’t something I saw coming.”
He tilted his head, waiting, patient in that way older brothers learn when life has already knocked them around a few times.
“It started as something simple,” I said. “Someone I’ve known for years. I thought I knew where everything fit. Then, all of a sudden, it didn’t.”
Manu’s brows lifted. “And that surprised you.”
“More than I want to admit.” My throat worked. “He—” The word slipped out before I could stop it. I froze. “It’s… it’s not what I expected.”
Manu’s eyebrows lifted. For a heartbeat, his grin faltered. “He?” The single word wasn’t sharp—just full of disbelief, trying to catch up. Then a slow exhale, the kind you give when the world rearranges itself and you’re still finding your footing.
“Wait, Miguelito… you’re saying—?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying,” I cut in quickly, rubbing a hand over my face. “It just… I don’t know, Manu. And now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
He sat back, studying me through the screen. Shock still lingered, but it softened around the edges. “Huh,” he said quietly, more to himself than to me. “Didn’t see that coming.” A pause. “You feel different around him.”
I took a breath. “You remember when I first got goalie pads? How heavy I told you they felt? Like I couldn’t move right anymore—but once I learned how to trust them, I moved better.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re saying this… what’s happening now, feels like that?”
“Yeah.” I let out a shaky breath. “It’s heavy. Strange. Feels like it could hold me back—but also like it could change everything if I stopped fighting it.”
Manu nodded slowly, the surprise in his face easing into something gentler. “So what are you fighting, Miguelito? The feeling, or the fear?”
I looked down at my hands. “Both, maybe.”
“Because he’s a man?”
