Page 105 of Across the Boards

The fight itself is quick but brutal—Brody’s first punch landing square on Jason’s jaw, snapping his head back. Jason recovers, lands a few of his own, but it’s clear Brody has the upper hand. When the officials finally separate them, Jason’s face is already swelling, blood visible on his lips.

The video continues, zooming in on me in the stands—and I’m surprised by what I see. I look composed, almost regal, watching the altercation with what appears to be clinical detachment. The Brody jersey stands out vibrantly against the crowd, a statement more eloquent than any words.

The video ends with Brody being escorted down the tunnel, pausing to look up at me with a raised hand—part apology, part confirmation that this was for me, about me.

I close the laptop, emotions tangled. On one level, it’s humiliating to have my personal life played out so publicly again. On another, there’s a vindication in seeing Jason called out for his behavior, in not being the only one who knows how cruel he can be.

And on yet another level, there’s something undeniably powerful about being the woman Brody Carter was willing to risk suspension for. Not that I needed or wanted his protection, but the sheer unfiltered emotion behind his reaction—that speaks to something authentic, something leagues away from Jason’s calculated charm.

My phone buzzes with a text.

Survived Coach’s wrath. 5AM conditioning for a week. Plus I have to do a PR appearance at the children’s hospital. Could be worse.

That seems steep. Worth it?

Would do it again for double the punishment. How’s your morning going?

I watched the video. It’s... something.

On a scale of 1-10, how mortified are you by my caveman display?

I consider this, trying to sort through my complicated feelings.

Maybe a 4? Less mortified than I expected to be. Though the “Boyfriend Beatdown” nickname the hockey blogs are using could push it higher.

Oh god, they’re calling it that? I’m sorry. And also secretly flattered. But mostly sorry.

At least “boyfriend” is accurate now. Silver linings.

Best silver lining ever. Gotta go - team meeting about travel games. Apparently “no more fighting” is the theme.

Shocking strategy. Try to follow instructions this time.

No promises. Talk later?

Later.

I set the phone down, smiling despite myself. There’s something refreshing about his honesty, his lack of calculation or manipulation. What you see is what you get with Brody Carter—from his impulsive defense of my honor to his genuine remorse about the public spectacle.

It’s nothing like being with Jason, where every interaction was layered with subtext and performance, where I never quite knew if I was getting the real person or the carefully crafted image.

My client call goes well, the technical document I’ve been editing finally taking shape after weeks of revisions. Work has always been my constant, my anchor during the tumultuous years of my marriage and divorce. There’s a satisfaction in clear rules, in problems with definitive solutions, in words that mean exactly what they say.

Around noon, another text comes through—not from Brody this time, but from an unknown number.

Enjoy the spotlight while it lasts, Elliot. Your boy toy made a serious mistake last night. Hope you’re worth the consequences.

My blood runs cold. There’s no signature, but it doesn’t need one. Only Jason would send something so vaguely threatening while simultaneously playing the victim.

I debate how to respond, or whether to respond at all. Engaging with Jason never leads anywhere good—he twists words, manipulates situations, gaslights with professional skill. But ignoring him sometimes escalates his behavior.

Before I can decide, another text arrives.

Seattle next week, right? Your little technical editing conference? Funny coincidence - Miami plays there Wednesday night. Maybe we could catch up. For old times’ sake.

The implied threat sends cold spiraling through me. How does he know about the conference? Unless he’s been keeping tabs on me, which is disturbing in itself.

I should tell Brody. That’s what someone in a healthy relationship would do—share when their ex is making threatening comments. But a part of me hesitates. Brody’s already on thin ice with Coach after the fight. If he knew Jason was texting me, threatening to show up in Seattle...

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