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Great, even the bartender saw him and Ford as a package deal at this point. First the ribbing in the locker room about him and Ford being in love, and now this. Maybe that was his sign. It was definitely time to move out on his own. The longer they lived together, the worse it would get.

Cole turned the phone face-down. “Everybody keeps telling me this apartment Russ has a line on is a good place. I know they’re right, and it’s not like there’s a booming housing market here in town.”

“But?”

“But I like where I’m at.” He gave the beer a quarter turn on the coaster but didn’t drink. “It was only supposed to be temporary, but the longer I’ve been there, the more I like being around Ford and Charlotte. And most of the time, I think he’s probably ready to be rid of me, but then…”

Wes held up his hands. “You don’t have to say more if you don’t want. Just know you see shit when you’re behind the bar, and I wouldn’t be so sure he’s eager to get his spare room back. Have you, oh, I don’t know, talked to him about it?”

Cole shook his head. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Ford, I know you told me I could crash here for a week or two, but now that it’s been a year, I’m really hoping you’ll reconsider and let me be a part of your family.’ Yeah, I don’t see that going so well.”

“Dude, I’m just saying honesty’s usually the way to go.”

The noise from the booth Cole’s teammates had commandeered grew to an obscene level. Cole glanced in their direction, then back to Wes. He was one of the few people Cole could talk to about this without it spreading through the locker room. The Stags were worse than a bunch of older women when it came to gossip.

“The next time Charlotte’s at Nadine’s for the night, sit down with a couple of beers and see where his head’s at. Ask him if the arrangement is working out for him and if it’d be an issue if you didn’t take the place if you’re this reluctant.”

“The problem with that is Russ was only able to get them to hold off on listing the place until tomorrow. There’s no time to have a sit-down.”

Wes’s gaze drifted to the back corner booth. “Then maybe you should see about getting out of here at a decent hour tonight. You can always find a reason to avoid having the hard conversations, but nothing good will ever come of that.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Cole slid off his stool and rapped his knuckles on the bar. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Cheaper than therapy. Feel free to come back anytime you need another kick in the pants.”

Across the room, the team had the big table going, spirits high after finally stringing a few wins together. Vargas and Novo were bickering over who was buying the next round. Riggs had Beaudry cornered over some rule about who got the last wing. Ford sat down at the quiet end, half-turned out of the racket, saying something low to the new guy beside him that made him set his beer down to laugh.

Cole thought back to when he was the new guy. Ford had been one of the first to welcome him to the team too. He didn’t have to. Technically, that was Walsh’s job as the captain. But he always did. When Cole had asked him why, he’d confessed that as one of the oldest members on the team, he sometimes felt like the team dad. Too bad the way Cole had been thinking about him lately was far from that of a father figure.

He’d been watching Ford like that for a couple of weeks now, and he’d quit pretending he didn’t know why. It went back to the game they’d stolen in the last minute, the whole bench coming over the boards to bury Ford in the crease. Somewhere in the middle of that pile, Ford had gotten a hand on the back of Cole’s neck and pulled him in, close, everybody screaming around them. For one second, everything Cole had spent a year swearing he’d made up was right there on Ford’s face, plain as anything. Neither of them had said a word about it since, and now every night ended the same way, the two of them driving home in the dark to a house they’d both left that morning. Cole lived for that ride and dreaded it just as much.

He was still chewing on all of it when Pace walked in.

Pace played in the Thursday rec league and sold insurance. He was blond, good-looking, and a room tended to forgive him for anything that might happen before he’d said a word. He crossed straight to the quiet end of the table like he belonged there and dropped a hand on Ford’s shoulder. Ford turned and lit up for him. The real smile, the one Cole had spent two weeks learning to pick out of a crowd, and he said something back that made Pace lean in and leave his hand right where it was.

Something went through Cole then, hot and low in his gut, and it took him a second to place it because he’d gone most of his life without feeling it. Jealousy. Uglier than he’d have guessed. He wanted to cross the room and take Pace’s hand off Ford’s shoulder and set it down somewhere Pace would think twice about. It didn’t matter that he had no claim on Ford. He was a grown man in a bar. Pace was allowed to touch his shoulder. Cole was just the guy who paid next to nothing in rent and slept down the hall. He knew all of that. It didn’t make him want to cross the room any less.

He set his beer down slowly because his hand wasn’t steady. He’d made his peace with wanting Ford a while back, and wanting, he could live with. This was something else. This felt more like need, the type of hunger that would consume him if he wasn’t careful.

He got his phone out, mostly to give his hands something to do that wouldn’t make a fool of him. The family chat had been going all day. Britt had posted a video of the nephew’s practice, six-year-olds going down in slow motion, and their dad had answered with one line about skate sharpening that set off nine more. Cole watched the video twice and thumbed out a reply.

tell him to keep his head up. he’s a natural

He sent it and, without really meaning to, thumbed over to the calendar. Thanksgiving was a week and a half out. There was a home game that Friday and a road trip right behind it, and getting up to the Iron Range and back would take the better part of two days he didn’t have and couldn’t ask for. He’d known that before he checked. He checked anyway. For about ten seconds, he let himself want it, his mother’s loud table with all of them crowded around it and none of the worry aimed at him. Then he locked the phone and put it back in his pocket.

When he looked up, Ford was already looking back at him over the top of Pace’s head. Cole gave him a small nod. Nothing to worry about. Ford held the look a second longer than he needed to before Pace pulled him back into the conversation. They’d been having these wordless conversations for two weeks now. Every time Cole caught it, he told himself he’d imagined it, and every time, he knew he hadn’t.

He was still trying to figure out what that meant when Leo turned up beside him. Leo Vargas had put Cole up on his couch when he got traded here last year, back when the inn was full of deer hunters. They’d been friends ever since. Leo had gotten together with Dawson last season, the hard way, and Dawson was across the room right now, losing at darts to Novo and taking it with a straight face.

Leo followed Cole’s line of sight to the long table, then looked back at him. “You know you’re staring.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Sure.” Leo took a drink. “I did the same with Dawson at first. Told myself I was trying to figure out how to survive in this podunk little town.” He set the glass down. “For what it’s worth, once you can’t lie about it anymore, it goes fast. Faster than you think you’re ready for. And this town’s a lot smaller than it looks, man, but not in a bad way.”

He clapped Cole on the shoulder and went to save Dawson from darts. Cole stood there feeling like the last guy in the building to figure out something everybody else already knew.

He gave it another half hour because ducking out early got noticed the same as anything, and the whole time Wes’s and Leo’s words sat in the back of his head. Get out of here at a decent hour. Sit down and see where his head’s at. The landlord wanted a yes or no by tomorrow, and Cole didn’t have one. The only way he would get one was to do the thing he’d been putting off for a year and just ask Ford straight out if he even minded him staying on, or if he’d been waiting for Cole to take the hint and get a place of his own. He’d go home, and he’d say it tonight. He’d decided that much, at least.