Page 109 of Across the Boards

My phone buzzes with a text.

Made it all the way home. Twelve steps. New personal record.

Impressive athleticism. Gold star.

I live for your approval. Sweet dreams, Waltman.

Sweet dreams, Carter.

I set the phone down, still smiling. Whatever Jason may have planned, whatever challenges the next week might bring, I’m going to Seattle with my head held high. Because I’m reclaiming my life, one step at a time.

And some of those steps may lead back to the hockey player next door, with his bruised jaw and gentle hands and heart on his sleeve.

I think I’m okay with that.

26

ELLIOT

Seattle is nothing like Phoenix. The crisp air carries salt from the nearby Sound, the skyline a dramatic contrast of modern architecture against snow-capped mountains. Even the rain—a persistent drizzle that would cause panic in Arizona—feels refreshing after months of desert heat.

I adjust my conference lanyard, pausing in the hotel lobby before today’s panel. Four days into the Technical Editing Symposium, and I’m enjoying myself. The presentations have been engaging, the networking productive, and the distance from Phoenix—from hockey drama and complicated new relationships—oddly freeing.

Brody and I have texted daily, his road trip updates arriving with clockwork regularity. Game recaps, hotel complaints, and sweetly dorky check-ins that never fail to make me smile. He’s been respectful of my schedule, never demanding immediate responses or becoming passive-aggressive when I take hours to reply.

It’s a stark contrast to my marriage, when Jason would call repeatedly if I didn’t answer immediately, his messages evolving from concerned to accusatory to hostile within an hour.

“Elliot Waltman?” A voice breaks through my thoughts. “I thought that was you!”

I turn to find a tall woman in a tailored navy suit approaching. “Catherine Porter, Nexium Technologies. I was in your presentation yesterday—the one on technical documentation for medical devices? Absolutely brilliant.”

“Thank you,” I reply, shaking her hand. “It was a fascinating discussion.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” She gestures toward the coffee bar. “Can I buy you a pre-session caffeine boost? I’d love to pick your brain about something.”

Twenty minutes later, I’ve learned that Nexium Technologies is expanding their Seattle headquarters, and Catherine is their newly appointed Director of Communications.

“We need someone who understands both the technical side and can present it clearly,” she explains. “Someone who can enforce standards without alienating the engineers. Based on what I’ve seen, I think you’d be perfect.”

“That’s flattering,” I say carefully, “but I’m based in Phoenix.”

Catherine waves this off. “We’re open to remote work for the right candidate. Or relocation, of course. Seattle’s a lovely city.”

“I’m sure it is,” I reply noncommittally, though I can’t deny the flicker of interest her words ignite. Phoenix has never really felt like home, even after three years post-divorce. It’s always been Jason’s city.

And now with Brody... complicated doesn’t begin to cover it.

“Here’s my card,” Catherine says, sliding it across the table. “The position hasn’t been formally posted yet. I’d love to chat more before I leave tomorrow.”

I accept the card, tucking it into my conference folder. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.” She stands. “But Elliot? We pay very competitively, and our benefits package is exceptional.”

As she walks away, I examine the card, running my thumb over the embossed logo. A job in Seattle. A fresh start in a city without my ex-husband’s shadow. The thought is... appealing.

But there’s Brody. Brody, who texts good morning and goodnight every day. Brody, who respects my career. Brody, who looks at me like I’m some kind of miracle.

Moving to Seattle would end whatever we’re building. Long-distance relationships are hard enough when both people are fully committed; they’re nearly impossible at the beginning stages.

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