Page 2 of Cross Ice

You got it. See you at practice tomorrow.

Guilt twinged in my chest—we’d been planning this for a week—but I shoved it aside. Losing my nerve wasn’t an option.

After drying off, I pulled on dark jeans and a white T-shirt. Nothing fancy. Brushed my teeth, checked myself in the mirror one more time. The clothes were anonymous enough, but my frame wasn’t—shoulders too broad, neck too thick, the build you got from eight years of professional contact sports. I looked like a hockey player trying not to look like a hockey player. It would have to be good enough.

The black leather aviator jacket I grabbed on the way out was the one I’d bought in Vancouver last winter. Not flashy, but mine. It was a risk—stood out more than the plain T-shirt—but I wanted something that felt like me. Just Nico. Someone who didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought.

Someone who was finally, finally, going to live.

Twenty minutes in the car downtown, every second alternating between excitement and pure terror. Sweat slicked my palms on the steering wheel. My heart raced like I was about to take the ice for a playoff game.

Recognition was the risk. One fan seeing me walk into a gay club, one social media post, and everything could implode. I knew what that cost. Had paid it once already, in a way I didn’t let myself think about too often. This could be the stupidest decision I’d ever made.

But then Morelli and Savard’s photo filled my mind again. The way they smiled. The way they weren’t hiding.

Two blocks from the club, I parked in a garage and walked the rest of the way. Vivid Colors sat tucked between a craft brewery and a vintage clothing store. Popular, mixed crowd, good reviews, a place where I could blend in. Or at least I hoped.

A simple rainbow flag and a bouncer checking IDs marked the entrance. Handing mine over, I tried to look casual, like this was something I did all the time.

The bouncer glanced at it, then at me. His eyebrows went up. “Nicolás Briggs?”

My stomach dropped. “Yeah.”

“My boyfriend’s a huge Lasers fan.” He handed my ID back with a grin. “Have a good night, man.”

“Thanks.” I was through the door before he could say anything else.

Sound and light hit me like a physical wall. Colored lights pulsed in time with a deep, throbbing bass that I felt in my gut. Strobe lights flashed across the dance floor where dozens of people moved together, bodies pressed close. Men kissing men. Couples grinding against each other without shame, without fear.

Nothing like anything I’d ever seen.

Plenty of bars, plenty of clubs in my past, but this was different. Here, everyone was just… themselves.

For the first time in years, I could breathe.

Squeezing through the crowd to the bar, I ordered a beer. The bartender, a guy with bleached blond hair and a nose ring, didn’t give me a second glance. Just handed me the glass and moved on to the next customer.

Anonymous. Just another guy in a gay club on a Friday night.

Perfect.

A spot against the wall gave me a view of the crowd. The energy was incredible—people laughing, dancing, living without apology. Beer in hand, I let myself just… enjoy being here.

This was what I’d been missing.

Then I saw him.

Tall, handsome, with styled brown hair. Standing near the bar, talking to a shorter, dark-haired man. The shorter man checked his phone, said something, and then walked away. Left alone, the taller man held his drink with both hands, shoulders slightly hunched. He scanned the crowd like he was looking for an escape route, tension visible in the set of his jaw. Uncomfortable. Like he wanted to bolt.

But he was attractive in a way that wasn’t flashy. Not an athlete—I could tell from the way he stood, the way he held himself. An untucked band-collar shirt skimmed over the lean muscles of his chest, paired with a blazer like he’d come from work or dinner somewhere nice. Caramel highlights in his hair caught the strobing lights as his gaze roamed the dance floor.

Then his gaze landed on me.

The jolt of it, the connection, hit even from across the room.

Neither of us looked away.

Pushing off the wall, I walked toward him. My heart pounded again, but for an entirely different reason now. This was what I’d come here for. Not just to be in a gay club, but to actually do something about it.