Page 43 of Cold Front
He was leaning against the wall just beyond the entrance, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.My jacket. The one I’d given him at the store when he was shivering in that too-thin hoodie. Seeing him in it now sent an odd ripple through me—like a memory brushing too close to the present. The dim glow from the arena lights softened his features, casting shadows along his jaw. His hair was a little messy, like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. His eyes flicked up when he saw me, and something unreadable passed over his face before he pushed off the wall and stepped forward.
“Didn’t think you were ever gonna come out,” he said, his voice light and teasing.
I blinked. “What are you doing here?”
Eli huffed a laugh. “Nice to see you too, Captain.” He shrugged. “Asher and Gigi dragged me to the game. Said it was a crime I’d never been to one before. They bailed soon after the game ended—some art project deadline—but I figured I’d stick around.”
I frowned. “By yourself?”
“Yeah, well, don’t get any ideas,” he said, his lips twitching like he was holding back a grin. “It wasn’t because I was dying to see you in action or anything.”
I scoffed, shifting my weight. “Right.”
Eli rocked back on his heels, his gaze still on me. “I mean, I don’t know much about hockey, but even I could tell you were kicking ass out there.”
Something warm flickered in my chest, unexpected and unsettling. “You’re picking up on the game pretty fast,” I said. “Didn’t think you’d actually pay attention.”
He tilted his head slightly. “I’m not the kind of guy who ignores what interests my roommates. Or what they’re passionate about.”
That—huh. That shouldn’t have made my stomach feel weird.
Without thinking, I said, “Come with me?”
Eli blinked. “What?”
I shifted my duffel bag higher on my shoulder. “Team’s meeting up at Roman and Hunter’s campus apartment. Not a big thing. You should come.” I wasn’t sure why, but the thought of spending time with Eli… um… I mean, with the guys felt... right.
Eli’s brows lifted, but a slow smile tugged at his lips. “You’re inviting me?”
I wasn’t sure why I had, but I wasn’t about to take it back now. “Yeah.”
A beat passed. Then Eli nodded, the smile widening. “All right, Captain. Lead the way.”
The walk to my teammates’ apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of campus nightlife and the occasional crunch of gravel underfoot. Eli fell into step beside me, hands tucked into the pockets of my jacket, his breath misting in the cold night air.
“Is this a regular thing?” he asked after a moment. “Post-game hangout?”
I nodded. “When we win.”
He hummed, thoughtful. “Guess I should start rooting for Michigan U hockey then.”
Something about the way he said it made my stomach twist—like he meant it. Like he actually gave a damn. I wasn’t sure what to do with that, so I just pushed forward, leading us to the apartment place. Now wasn’t the time to examine these unfamiliar feelings I had when it came to Eli.
The second we stepped inside, the warmth hit me—too many bodies packed into a small space, the air thick with the scent of pizza, beer, and lingering traces of sweat and cologne. Laughter and conversation filled the apartment with the kind of easy energy that came after a win. Music played low from a speaker in the corner, drowned out by the chatter.
Roman and Hunter’s place had the usual athlete-living setup—kind of messy, kind of lived-in. Two mismatched couches angled toward a TV, a coffee table cluttered with water bottles, protein bars, and a couple of PlayStation controllers. The walls had a mix of posters—hockey, football, a random movie that looked like it had been there since freshman year. A whiteboard hung by the kitchen, a rough schedule of workouts and team events scrawled across it in barely legible handwriting.
In the kitchen, someone had pushed a few chairs together to make room for trays of food—pizza boxes stacked high, chips spilling from their bags, a pack of Gatorade shoved between a couple of six-packs.
Roman spotted us first, lifting a bottle in greeting. “About time, Caldwell.” His gaze flicked to Eli. “And look who you brought. Welcome to the madhouse.”
“Had to take a minute,” I said, shrugging off my jacket.
His gaze flicked to Eli, who was already scanning the room, taking everything in. “And you brought your roommate. Nice.”
“Eli’s one of us now,” Micah said, slinging an arm around his shoulders like they’d been friends for years. “If he survives the night, that is.”
Eli snorted. “That supposed to be a threat?”
