Everything he’d worked for was happening. His chest hurt anyway.
Finn should go home. Instead he grabbed his gear and headed to the rink for a late skate. The ice was fresh from the Zamboni, the surface catching the overhead lights in long white ribbons, and he pushed himself through drills until his legs burned and his lungs screamed and the only thing in his head was the next stride.
* * *
The parking lot was empty. Snowing. Finn’s breath went white.
He was halfway to the F-150 when he saw Evan.
Standing beside the truck. Coat on, hands in his pockets. His shoulders were drawn up, the collar of his wool coat turned up, and his hair had been pushed by his own grip enough times that it had lost its shape. On the hood of the vehicle next to the F-150, a paper cup from the building’s machine sat with a dusting ofsnow on the lid. The flakes weren’t melting. The contents were long past warm.
Evan had been here a while.
“What are you doing here.” Not a question.
“I needed to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
Evan’s jaw tightened. His hands hadn’t left his pockets, not casual, braced. Whatever he’d rehearsed in the vehicle was gone.
“I’m sorry. For the hallway. For all of it.”
“You’re sorry.”
“Yes.”
“You erased me in a hallway and you’re sorry.”
Evan’s chin dropped. His gaze closed for a breath, the lines at the corners of his lips deepening.
“Do you know how long I waited for you to show up?” The thing Finn had held out of his voice in the apartment was in it now, rough and rising, his breath making short white clouds. “How many days I sat in my apartment thinking you’d realize? That you’d call, or text, or come to my entrance?”
Evan said nothing.
“You didn’t come. Not until I ended it.”
“Finn—”
“You waited until I ended it to show up.”
Evan’s shoulders dropped. His jaw went tight, his gaze wet in the lot lights, the prepared version of whatever he’d been going to say gone. “That’s not—” He stopped. “Fuck.” The word came out low, surprised. “You’re right.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I chose to be.”
Finn held his gaze. Flakes landed on his shoulders, on the bag strap. He didn’t blink them away.
“I know what I did.” Evan’s voice went low. Stripped down. “I know why I did it. And I’m not here to make you forgive me tonight.”
Finn waited.
“I just needed you to know that it mattered. That you weren’t a mistake. That you weren’t something I only wanted when no one was looking.”
“I spent years being the guy everyone was guarded around after I came out.” Finn’s voice held even as his hands shook at his sides. “The guy teammates checked themselves around, the guy coaches made a point of treating normally, which is its own kind of abnormal. And I am not going to spend the rest of my life being the thing someone is guarded about.”
The lot lights buzzed. The flakes drifted between them.
