Page 68 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice

Surrounded by boxes in my soon to be vacant apartment, I tape up the last of my belongings with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The decision to buy the townhouse was a gamble but one I couldn’t say no to. The house is everything I want, the perfect blend of my taste and the subtle reminders of Elliot. As I look around the empty room, I feel a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. This place had been my refuge, a space where I tried to piece my life back together. Maybe it’s dumb to buy a house because it reminds me of a man. But, I am ready to move forward, even if a part of me knows that my new home holds echoes of what could have been with Elliot.

The doorbell rings, pulling me from my thoughts. With everything in boxes, I am living on take out again. I sigh, wipe my hands on my leggings, and head to the door. When I open it, I freeze, expecting it to be my food delivery, but it most certainly isnot. Standing there, looking every bit as striking as I remember, is Elliot.

“Hey, Ziggy,” he says, his voice low and familiar.

I stand there, speechless. Everything I have tried to push away comes rushing back, hitting me like a tidal wave. Memories, emotions, the intensity of our last night together—all of it floods my mind. He looks great, better than great, actually. His eyes hold the same spark, but there is something new, a calm confidence that wasn’t there before.

“Can I come in?” he asks, breaking the silence.

I step aside, allowing him to enter. He looks around at the boxes, a puzzled expression crossing his face. Before I can explain, he turns to me with a knowing look.

“When do you leave for New York?” he asks, his tone casual, but I can sense the sadness beneath it.

“No, I get to ask the questions,” I manage to say, my voice shaking slightly. “What are you doing here, Elliot?”

He takes a deep breath as if bracing himself for what he is about to say. “I retired,” he begins, and I don’t manage to hide my shock. “After we won the Stanley Cup, I realized it was time. I’ve achieved everything I wanted in hockey, but I want more out of life. So, I retired.”

I feel like the ground is shifting beneath me. Elliot retired? Everything is hard to process.

As Elliot rattles off details about his life changes, the words “Hit Behind the Nethas been a viral success” stick out. He continues with a fervor, each sentence highlighting another layer of his new reality. He has so much to tell me, his wordstumble out in an enthusiastic stream. I listen, nodding along, my mind racing to keep up with the torrent of updates. His excitement is infectious, and it is impossible not to get swept up in his energy. Yet, as he speaks, a part of me aches with the reminder of all that never happened between us. Each success of his feels like a shared victory, one for both of us. It’s also a sharp reminder of everything that has remained unsaid.

“And I’ve been offered a studio position at ACN for every hockey season. But that’s not all. I’m relocating to Atlanta. I’ve taken a part-time position with the Atlanta Vipers, working in media. I want to see where life takes me.” With that last statement, he finally takes a breath.

I stare at him, my mind practically mush. I’m fairly certain that my mouth is hanging wide open. This is a bombshell, one after another. Elliot is moving to Atlanta? Working here? It feels like everything is happening too fast for my brain to keep up with.

After catching his breath, and running out of personal updates to rattle off, Elliot’s voice softens, and his pace slows. He looks directly at me, his eyes intense with emotion.

“And through all this,” he says, his voice thickening, “I’ve realized something crucial—I love you, Ziggy. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.” His confession hangs in the air, raw and sincere. He reaches out, taking my hands in his, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I should have said this a long time ago, but I can’t change the past. All I can do is choose you every single day, from now on.” He pauses, his voice steady, full of passion. “And if it means living long distance, so be it. The flights from New Yorkto Atlanta are nothing. Outside of the hockey season, I can live anywhere—as long as I’m with you.”

His words strike deep within me, replacing the anger I tried so hard to manage. His declaration spreads through my body, filling the cracks in my heart that formed the day I left that hotel in Phoenix and never looked back. I have hope. I have the courage to open up to the possibility that we might be able to have a future together.

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. Elliot dropped so many different changes on me in such a short time that I don’t even know where to begin. My emotions are a tangled mess of joy, fear, and overwhelming confusion.

“What are you talking about?” I finally manage to ask, sidestepping everything else he had just confessed.

“Why would you fly to New York?” I am genuinely puzzled, trying to piece together his sudden plans involving cities and distances.

As I watch his face, waiting for his explanation, it suddenly hits me. He has no idea what is actually going on in my life right now. He is here, confessing his love, ready to uproot his entire life, and committing to a future together—even if it means living long distance. He was planning around assumptions, not facts, and the realization brings clarity to the forefront briefly before mingling with a touch of sadness. How far apart our lives had drifted, yet here he is, trying to bridge that distance without even knowing the current map of my life.

As I stand here, lost in my revelation, Elliot cuts through my train of thought with a determination that once again takes me by surprise. He drops to his knees in front of me, his expression one of earnest.

“Please, Anatife,” he pleads, his voice watery. “Please tell me you feel the same and that you want to try this. I don’t want us to give up on our dreams for each other, but I believe we can still make this work together.”

My mouth flaps, alternating between opening and closing, like a goldfish. I know it can’t be a good look but the weight of the moment presses down on me. The sharp buzz of my phone shatters the invisible weight holding me in place. Glancing down, I see a notification that my brain fixates on.

“Oh shit,” I mutter, my eyes widening.

My pizza delivery can’t get inside, and the only thing my mind can process is that. Without a word, I spring to my feet, my mind racing with the urgency of the message.

“I have to go,” I blurt out, barely looking at Elliot as I rush toward the door, leaving him kneeling there, a mix of hope and confusion etched across his face.

Chapter 50

The air in Ziggy’s apartment is thick with the weight of my confessions and her sudden departure. I pace back and forth, my mind a storm of worry and regret. Did I push too hard? Did I ruin everything? I replay our conversation over and over, searching for any sign that I might have misstepped. I practically monopolized the moment. It was too much. I fucked it all up. I was so caught up in my own feelings and urges that I didn’t take easing into these changes into consideration. Instead, I just threw it all out there on the table, and it probably blew up my life like my words were a grenade.

Minutes feel like hours when, suddenly, the door swings open. There she is—Ziggy, stepping in with a large pizza in hand. The expression on her face is an odd blend of guilt andamusement as if she hasn’t just left me hanging on a moment that could alter the entire course of our relationship.

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