Page 128 of The Price of Ice

He thought about walking to Analisa’s house instead, but what would have been the point? She would have believed it’d happened, but she wouldn’t have got what itmeant.

What he’d just given up.

What he’d just escaped.

She’d have understood his future plans and part of him couldn’t wait to tell her. But he’djustinstructed his lawyer to send in his resignation letter; in a matter of hours, he would no longer be a White Cat.

A hockey player.

He’d just be Kallen Guin.

He had no idea who that was outside the ice.

It was fine, really, he’d just walk the path up to the mountain, try and get high enough to see the city from above. His dad had taken them hiking and climbing when they were kids, but once he’d become serious about hockey, Kallen had swapped to safer forms of exercise.

Now he didn’t have to worry about violating his contract with an injury. He’d be careful, in fact, that’s what he needed, the absolute demand of the terrain that he pay attention or fall. It was only when he was halfway there that he realised he hadn’t brought any water with him.

It wasn’t very smart, but it wasn’t a steep path, so he wasn’t that high up yet. He checked the signal on his phone, three bars. He kept going, swallowing to wet his mouth as best he could. He’d get water as soon as he got back down from one of the corner shops near the start of the path.

Time blurred a little after that, because there was nothing to count except steps and that soon became an instinct awareness of right and left and right and left.

And then he reached a viewpoint, a tiny one without even a plaque. Someone had arranged some big rocks where you could sit, though, and Kallen carefully lowered himself over them, body pleasantly warm from the effort, eyes catching on the gorgeous vistas at once.

Terali spread beneath him, the river at its centre glittering under the sunlight, the bridges black stripes across its brilliance, and the constant low-level movements of humanity everywhere else more a suggestion than anything his eyes could truly parse.

It’s over, he thought, and then said it aloud, “It’s over. I’m done. I’m not gonna— play hockey anymore.”

He clenched his teeth against a much deeper ache, then exhaled slowly. “But I’m going to play again someday.”

There was no logical reason to think so, nothing he could have explained, but the words settled something in him anyway. They felt true.

Chapter 42

It turned out Levy had fallen asleep while they video called the previous night and his phone had died.

“I did plug it in this morning,” Levy explained when he called Kallen back later that night, he’d just got back from his volunteering gig. “But I forgot toturn it on.”

Kallen could only laugh. “No big deal, I just— I really wanted to tell you something.

“Yeah?” He could almost hear the way Levy’s smile softened.

He rolled over in his bed, where he’d been lying like a lump since coming back from his surprise hike. He’d dozed off for a bit, but he wasn’t tired, not physically, at least. “I quit. Officially.”

“Oh, wow,” Levy sounded reverent. “That’s... Well, on the one hand, I’m proud of you, I know how hard that was. On the other hand, you okay?”

Kallen’s snort turned into a laugh, and then somehow he was exhaling through something close to a sob. “No.”

It was the kind of admission that would have felt impossible only a few months ago, because he’dhadto be fine. If you weren’t fine you couldn’t play, after all. He’d been fine with a messed-up knee and with colds that fucked up his vision and with a broken heart when his grandpa had died.

He’d played through it all and playing had somehow made it all okay. As if scoring was the direct result of his suffering, his soul the incense he burned at the altar of success.

“Tell me,” Levy whispered.

“Was it all for nothing?” Kallen asked, frantic like they’d run out of time.

“No,” Levy said, his own voice thick and suddenly Kallen realised he’d never asked his new boyfriend howhewas coping with the end of his own career. “I don’tknowwhat it was for, but not for nothing. Like remember that sweet pass you gave me against the Eagles back in May?”

Kallen sighed. “Yeah.”

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