Page 100 of Changes on Ice

“How did you feel when Ahlquist and Vicksburg fell on you?”

Rusty shifted his weight.He screamed. How do you think he felt?Even now, remembering that sound made him queasy.

Cross said, “Painful. And pissed off. I was pretty sure I was about to miss the whole postseason. But it wasn’t anyone’s fault, definitely not theirs. Flying pucks and bad falls are part of hockey. If playing the game was safe as cotton wool, it wouldn’t be the sport I love.”

“And even with that injury, you encourage young teens to play?”

“Of course. Life isn’t safe. Getting hurt doing something you love is far better than never getting to do it at all.” He looked off across the lobby.

“Youdoexpect to make a full recovery and return to playing?” Apparently Rusty hadn’t been the only one to catch a hint of wistfulness in Cross’s last sentence.

“Yes, of course.” Cross met her eyes and left no room for follow-up.

“And do you plan to be back here at the Forsythe Center to see these teens play again?”

“No doubt, although I’m not spreading word in advance.” Cross nodded at where several people had gathered around them with stuff in their hands, clearly waiting for autographs. “When I visit, it’ll be about encouraging young players and not a public event. And now.” He let a crutch dangle off his arm as he dug in a pocket for a Sharpie. “I have some people waiting for me.”

“Thanks for your time,” the reporter said, taking the hint. She collected her cameraman and strode away across the lobby toward a tall man in a suit.

The spectators closed in. Cross signed everything handed to him for the next ten minutes. Rusty mostly hung about, but some of the people asked for his signature too, especially after Cross told the first woman who did so, “Hang onto that. It’s going to be valuable someday.”

The man in the suit approached them when the crowd had thinned out. “Mr. LaCroix. Thanks for agreeing to the interview. We’re trying to drum up public support for the center with a news feature, and every bit helps.”

Rusty would’ve pointed out that Cross hadn’t exactly been asked, but Cross shook hands, murmured a platitude, then told the remaining people, “I need to get going. I hope to see some of you at a game in the future.”

Reluctantly the crowd parted to let him through. Rusty played bodyguard, making sure Cross wasn’t jostled, till they were out the doors and crossing the lot. “You think you can get up in my truck?” he asked, realizing this might not’ve been the greatest idea.

Or maybe it was, when Cross said, “You’re going to have to boost me.”

“I can do that.” Getting to put his hands under Cross’s still-rounded hockey butt was not a hardship.

Once in the truck, as they pulled out of the lot, Cross mused, “That was weird.”

“What was?” Rusty turned right, merging into rush hour traffic.

“For a minute, when the reporter asked who you were, I almost said, ‘My boyfriend.’ Before I thought about it.”

“I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Oh, yes you would. Could you imagine the circus that would’ve caused, coming out standing there in a community center lobby?”

Don’t tell me what I think.Rusty swallowed down his resentment. “Well, whenever, if you feel it’s right, go for it.” Before Cross could go on with that topic, he asked, “What were you about to say, when you were talking about being a kid? Hockey was your… what?”

“My only refuge. Which is true, but feels unfair to my parents. Plus, it opens the question of refuge from what. Not something I want to get into with a random reporter either.”

Do you still feel that way? Is it making this time off the ice harder?Rusty set his hand on Cross’s thigh.

After a quiet minute, Cross added, “I’m an adult now. Shouldn’t need that escape, but I guess till recently, that was still true.”

“Until recently?”

They pulled up at a stoplight and Cross gave him that grin he’d craved for so long, meant just for him. “Because of you. I still love hockey and I miss it, but it helps having you around, when I need a safe place to be.”

The light turned green, so Rusty couldn’t lean over and kiss his man, but he pulled into the slightly faster lane and cursed the time it’d take to get home.

Chapter 25

Cross woke slowly, swimming up to awareness, registering sticky eyes he didn’t want to open, and a foul, dry mouth. New pain burned in his throbbing ankle under a blanket of the good drugs.Surgery. Again.He didn’t let himself think about that too closely. “Wurf?” He licked his lips and tried again. “Water?”

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