Page 85 of Cold Front
I gripped my glass a little tighter. I did. Probably more than I wanted to.
But before I could answer, a voice cut through the noise.
“Niall fucking Caldwell.”
Brady Langley.
Former teammate. Two years older. Already playing in the big leagues. A guy who knew me before I built the walls. Before the distance.
Brady’s grin didn’t waver as he reached our table, but instead of staying on his feet, he grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table and turned it around, straddling it like he belonged there. Like we were still teammates shooting the shit after practice.
A few of his teammates lingered near the bar, watching but not intruding, their voices blending into the steady hum of the restaurant.
Brady’s gaze flicked to Eli, curiosity lighting behind his eyes. He waited. Expectantly.
My throat went dry. Panic flared fast, sharp. And before I could stop myself, before I could think through what the right thing to say was, the words were already leaving my mouth.
“This is my roommate, Eli.”
Eli stilled, just for a fraction of a second. But I saw it. Felt it. The way something inside him dimmed. Then, just as quickly, he masked it with an easy smile, extending his hand toward Brady. “Nice to meet you.”
Brady shook his hand, still grinning. “Roommate, huh?” The word echoed in my head like a taunt.
He didn’t linger on it, though. Instead, he leaned back and smirked at me. “Damn, Caldwell. Haven’t seen you in years, and you’re still the same.”
I huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Brady shot Eli a knowing look. “Is he always this serious?”
Eli’s lips curled in a slow, teasing smile. “Oh, you havenoidea.”
Brady laughed. “Man, back in the day? This guy was a menace. Full of attitude. Always chirping, always trying to out-skate everyone.” He shook his head. “I should dig up some old videos.”
Eli leaned forward, eyes alight with mischief. “Please do. I’dloveto see what kind of trouble Niall got into.”
Brady grinned and pulled out his phone, but instead of searching for old clips, he flipped to his photo gallery. “Actually, I gotta show you this first.” He turned the screen toward us. A picture of a woman, beaming at the camera, eyes full of warmth. “She has no idea I’m about to propose. Think she’ll say yes?”
Eli didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. You look at her like she hung the moon.”
Brady’s grin softened. “Yeah. She’s everything, man.”
I swallowed hard. The words landed somewhere deep, in a place I tried to ignore. Because I wanted that. I wanted to be the one pulling out my phone, showing off the person I loved. I wanted to sayhe’s everything, manwithout worrying who was listening.
But instead, here I was, calling Eli myroommatewhile he played along, even though we both knew damn well what we were to each other.
The moment stretched between us, thick with unspoken things.
Then Brady clapped a hand on my shoulder. “All right, I’ll let you guys get back to it. Don’t be a stranger, Caldwell.”
And just like that, he was gone, rejoining his teammates at the bar.
Eli didn’t say anything right away. He just sat back, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass, his expression unreadable.
But I knew.
Silence settled between us, thick enough to choke on.
I wanted to fix it. Wanted to take it back, rewind to the moment before my fear made me fuck it all up.
