Page 82 of Cold Comeback
Jordan and Gideon moved together like they'd never been apart. Their positioning created opportunities through pure instinct. Three years might have passed, but their hockey chemistry remained intact.
I watched them work together, and something ugly twisted in my gut. I saw both what Jordan had walked away from and what I'd stepped into.
We took a water break. "You two still have it," I said.
Jordan leaned against the boards, breathing hard. "Some things stick. Even when you wish they wouldn't."
"Do you wish they wouldn't?"
He studied me carefully. "Answer's complicated."
We skated for twenty more minutes. Every drill revealed more of their shared history. I skated harder, trying to break their rhythm and insert myself into patterns that had existed before I'd ever set foot in Richmond.
During our final break, Jordan gathered his strength and spoke boldly.
"So." He gripped his stick. "Heard you two figured out what I was too scared to try."
Gideon froze.
"Jordan—"
"It's okay." His voice cracked slightly. "I'm not here to—" He stopped and tried again. "I owe you both an explanation. Especially you, Gideon."
He pushed off the boards, skating slow circles while he gathered courage.
"I carved our initials into that puck because I thought—" He gave a fragile chuckle. "Damn, this sounds stupid and naive. I thought if I made it permanent somehow, it would become real."
Gideon's face was pale. "You never said anything."
"I was terrified. I thought the team might find out, and management would make decisions that would ruin our careers. I told myself I was protecting us."
He stopped circling and faced us directly.
"I was protecting myself. From rejection and having to be brave."
"Jordan." Gideon's voice was barely audible.
"I requested the trade." The words rushed out. "Made up some stupid story about ice time and development opportunities. Management bought it because it sounded professional. You bought it because I gave you no reason to question my motivation."
There it was—a confession.
"You asked to leave?"
"I ran away." Jordan's voice cracked completely. "Convinced myself that was the mature thing to do. The responsible choice. Took me three years to realize I'd chosen the coward's way out."
Gideon stared at him like he was seeing a stranger. "Three years. You've been carrying this for three years?"
"Three years of wondering what would have happened had I been brave enough to stay. To fight for—" He gestured at us. "For whatever this could have been."
I felt awkward—like an intruder—as I watched it unfold, but I couldn't look away. Gideon's mouth dropped open as he stared at Jordan.
"I didn't know," he said finally. "About how you felt. If I had—"
"Would it have changed anything?"
It was a huge question.
Jordan nodded like the silence was answer enough.
