Page 54 of Across the Boards

“There are teams?” Elliot asks, pained.

“Hockey wives love drama almost as much as they love Botox,” Sarah confirms. “And your appearance tonight with Tall, Dark, and Hockey over here—” she jerks a thumb at me, “—has the gossip mill working overtime.”

“Fantastic,” Elliot mutters. “Just what I wanted.”

“You handled Melissa like a pro,” I offer, “Very classy.”

“Years of practice,” she says with a sigh. “Though I’d forgotten how exhausting it is, measuring every word, anticipating every trap.”

Sarah squeezes her arm sympathetically. “You’re doing amazing. And looking hot while doing it, which is really the best revenge.”

This draws a genuine smile from Elliot. “Thanks, Sarah.”

“Now, about that book auction—I wasn’t entirely making that up. The bidding really has stalled, and I need someone who looks like they know literature to drum up interest.”

“Happy to help,” Elliot agrees, visibly relieved to have a purposeful task.

As Sarah leads us to the auction tables, I notice Matthews and Kelly have positioned themselves to keep us in view, still watching. They’re not our only audience—several other players and their partners are clearly monitoring Elliot’s movements through the room, some with curiosity, others with less friendly expressions.

It’s strange seeing this side of hockey culture—the politics, the alliances, the power plays. On the ice, things are more straightforward: you’re either with your team or against them. Here, the lines are blurred, and Elliot seems to be navigating a complex web of loyalties and grudges that existed long before I returned to Phoenix.

For the next hour, we make our way through the gala, stopping to chat with sponsors, bid on auction items (I put in for the cooking class, while Elliot bids on the book collection), and generally project an image of casual comfort that I know is taking considerable effort on Elliot’s part.

“How are you holding up?” I ask when we find a moment alone near the dessert table.

“Surprisingly okay,” she admits, selecting a miniature cheesecake. “Though I’ve mentally catalogued sixteen grammatical errors in conversation and three crimes against fashion.”

“Only three?”

“The night is still young,” she says solemnly. “And the open bar is still, well, open.”

I laugh, earning curious glances from nearby guests. “You’re something else, Waltman.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It absolutely is.”

Our moment of peace is interrupted when Matthews approaches, his smile not reaching his eyes.

“Carter,” he greets, clapping me on the shoulder forcefully. “Good to have you back in Phoenix, man. Though I’m surprised you ended up here of all places.”

The implication is clear: surprised you’re at the gala with Jason’s ex-wife. I keep my expression neutral. “Good to be back. The team’s got a solid lineup this season.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His attention shifts to Elliot. “And Elliot. Been a while since we’ve seen you at team events.”

“I’ve been busy,” she replies evenly. “Work keeps me occupied.”

“I’m sure,” he says, skepticism evident. “Jay mentioned you’d gone full hermit after the divorce.”

The casual mention of Jason—”Jay”—and the subtle dig aren’t lost on either of us. Elliot’s posture straightens incrementally.

“Not a hermit,” she corrects pleasantly. “Just selective about which events I attend.”

“And who you attend them with,” Matthews adds, glancing meaningfully at me.

“Matthews,” I interject, keeping my tone light but firm. “Did you need something specific? Or just checking in?”

He shrugs, clearly enjoying the tension he’s creating. “Just being friendly. Jay’s an old friend. We still talk regularly.”

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