Pride by the Book

Hockey and school were my primary focuses back then. One fed the other.

I needed good grades to stay on the team.

I needed to be a great player to get into a college with a top hockey program.

The end goal was an education and the chance to go pro.

The work had paid off. I put college on hold after my first year to play. And last week I’d wrapped my fifteenth NHL season with a conference final loss in the Stanley Cup playoffs.

As much as I loved playing, returning to Maplewood for the summer was something I looked forward to. Although I preferred it when I came back in July rather than May or June.

Nicolas sat on the porch swing, looking toward the pond in the distance. It reminded me of his dad sitting there, coffee in hand, watching us play. In the winter when the trees were bare, he’d had a perfect view.

The house looked great, even better than the pictures he’d sent along a month ago. The two-story mid-century-modern-inspired house had been well maintained, and I intended to keep that tradition up.

Nicolas came off the porch as I got out of my SUV. He appeared haggard and older than I would’ve imagined. At his temples, gray flecked his auburn hair, and dark circles under his eyes suggested he wasn’t getting enough rest. His attempt at a welcoming smile didn’t mask the weariness in his movements.

“Ethan, it’s good to see you.” He gave me a warm hug. “I really could’ve met you in town.”

“I couldn’t wait to come out here, especially on a gorgeous morning like this.”

Summer started tomorrow and even though it was a little warmer than usual, the sky was crystal blue and the breeze was just right, making it an ideal day to make my first visit back.

Sadness tinged Nicolas’s eyes. “I’m glad you wanted this place. I know you’ll look after it. Dad smiled when I told him you were the buyer.”

That meant a lot.

Nicolas’s father had struggled since his stroke a couple of years ago, so seeing his dad smile must’ve been a relief for Nicolas. I hoped it’d let him release some of the stress he carried.

I nodded. “It’ll be in good hands. And there’ll always be a room for you and Angel when you visit. In fact, I hope you can get here during the holidays for some hockey.” I gestured with my head toward the pond.

“Let’s make that happen. As long as you promise not to trounce me too badly.”

“A friendly pickup game is yours anytime you want it.” I clapped him on the back as we headed inside.

As we crossed from the foyer into the living room, one of the floorboards creaked just like it always had. Entering the space, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia at the sight of the stone and wood-paneled floor-to-ceiling fireplace. My heart ached for Nicolas, having to give up this place.

I knew from the pictures I’d seen that the kitchen had undergone a radical transformation. Gone were the vintage wood cabinets and patterned linoleum floor in favor of sleek walnut cabinetry, quartz countertops, and stainless steel appliances, but the pendant lights over the island and the starburst wallpaper reminded me of the kitchen where so much hot chocolate had been served.

“The place looks wonderful. Seeing it in person is…” I didn’t have the words to describe my feelings to him. “I honestly can’t believe I get to live here.”

“I think it was meant to be. Elena hearing about it from Janice and then telling you. We didn’t expect to sell so quick and easy.” Nicolas paused and looked at me. His eyes glistened as he blinked and struggled to hold back his emotions. “It really helps.”

“I’m glad.” I drew him into another hug since it looked like he needed it.

I released him as there was a knock on the door. “That must be the notary. I’ve got everything on the big table. I’ll be right back.”

I nodded and headed into the dining room. I traced my fingers over the smooth surface of the weathered oak table. The view through the tall windows out to the woods captivated me, just like it always had.

I greeted Ms. Easton as Nicolas took a seat and started signing. She took out her notary supplies as I sat in what was my usual spot.

“I remember sitting here telling your dad that I was sure we could turn the basement into a mini hockey rink so we could play year-round.” I smiled at the random memory.

Nicolas chuckled, shaking his head. “I bet you could do that if you wanted to.”

“Can you imagine?”

His laughter increased. “If you pull that off, I expect to be invited to the opening game.”

“You know it.” I began signing the papers he handed over. I’d read them all over the past couple of days, as had my attorney, who’d initialed the top right corner of each so I’d know she’d reviewed it. “Say, are you sure you don’t want any more of the furniture?”

“We don’t really have room for more than the couple of chairs we took. If there’s anything you don’t want, I’m sure there are plenty of people in town who will take it off your hands.”

“Everything fits the house so well, I don’t imagine I’ll get rid of anything. It’ll also make moving in super easy.”

Our eyes met for a moment as I handed over the stack of paperwork to Ms. Easton, a final acknowledgement that Nicolas’s family place was safe with me.

The house symbolized far more than just a place to live. It held as many memories as the home I grew up in with my moms. I planned to fill this forever home with friends and family just like the Montgomerys had.

I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket. “I’ll have Caroline do the transfer.”

“Great. I’ll—” His phone sounded from his pocket. “Sorry.” He sighed when he saw the screen. “I’ve got to get this.”

He started to get up, but I raised my hand. “You stay. I’m gonna go look around.”

He nodded and answered the call. “Hi. This is Nicolas.”

Outside I headed for the pond, which shimmered in the morning sun just beyond a line of trees.

I opened the messaging app on my phone and brought up my texts with Caroline, my attorney for the past five years. Tapping the microphone icon, I said, “Good morning, Caroline. Everything’s signed. You can transfer the money.” I thumbed send.

Swiping over to the camera, I brought the phone up to frame myself with the lake and trees in the background. The sun couldn’t have been more perfect for how the light danced on the water and in the leaves. I smiled and snapped a few images, selecting my favorite and adding it to the group chat I had with Mom Elena and Momma Grace.

I tapped the mic icon again. “It’s all mine.”

I sent that message on its way.

As much as I loved playing hockey, being back in Maplewood was the best. This summer promised to be fantastic. I’d settle into this house, and hockey camp was always a blast. I loved working with the kids, and this year many of my friends were coming in to be guest coaches. Of course, Pride in Maplewood was always an incredible time.

This year I had some anxiety associated with Pride, though. Although being named grand marshal was an honor, the role came with expectations during the weekend.

What if I let everyone down?

Being the center of attention was never easy.

Yes, I was in the spotlight all the time playing for Seattle—but I knew how to play hockey. It also wasn’t all about me, but about the team.

Grand marshal meant not only being in the parade, but also judging some competitions and maybe more. I didn’t have the full rundown yet.

As if she sensed my anxiety, Mom called. I connected the video call and held up the phone, framing myself much like I had with the selfie.

“Good morning!”

“Hey, sweetheart!” Mom’s voice immediately reduced the tightness in my chest. “You look so happy. It’s gorgeous out there this morning.”

“I was just out looking around, taking it all in.”

“Everything okay?” Mom asked.

It was impossible to hide anything from Elena with her counselor skills. My voice must have given a little something away.

“Just in my head a bit about the festival.” We’d talked about this several times since the invitation to be grand marshal had come in.

“I understand.” Mom’s voice shifted to the soothing tone she’d used anytime I was stressed. “Remember, you’re loved here and people want to honor your hockey accomplishments and all you contribute to this community. Just take it all one step at a time and remember to breathe. And try to have some fun with it. It is Pride after all.”

“You always know just what to say. Will I see you before the festival meeting tonight?”

“We’re headed to the theater since some of the performers arrive today,” Mom said. “Drop by if you’ve got time. Otherwise we’ll see you tonight.”

“Will do. Love you both.”

“Love you too,” she said back.

I disconnected the call and headed back to the house.

Beyond my anxiety about the festival activities, it was the first time since high school I was going to be around Andre Thompson for more than a nod of acknowledgment.

The difficult dynamics between us had started back then. He’d had a fiery enthusiasm, rallying the student body to show its school spirit or to get behind causes. In his world, everyone had to be involved. He hadn’t hidden his frustration that I never took part.

I’d wanted to help Andre so many times, but I couldn’t make the commitment between studies and practice.

Having to work with him during the festival was weighing on me more than any other aspect of the weekend.

In the house Nicolas stood at the large windows, taking in everything.

“Sorry I was gone for longer than I expected.” I joined him at the windows.

“No problem. Ms. Easton finalized everything and I left your stack of papers on the table. And these are yours.” He handed me four keys. “The alarm code is with the contracts too.”

“Thanks.” Something caught my eye out in the woods. I focused deep into the trees at a cut tree stump. A brown, red, and orange painted bowl was on top of it. “Is that what I think it is?” I pointed to where I was looking.

Nicolas grinned and nodded. “Yup. It’s still there.”

“Oh, wow. We built that when I was”—I had to think a moment—“ten?”

“Sounds about right.”

Nicolas, our friend Liam, Nicolas’s dad, and I had built a place for Mabel’s food. Mabel was a legend in these parts. No one had ever captured actual evidence of the cryptid, but the Montgomerys believed.

So did I after Nicolas’s dad told a story about Mabel one night we were all camping in the woods. I was pretty sure I’d caught glimpses of her three times on visits.

“I went and filled the bowl this morning,” Nicolas said. “We’ve been paying Tommy Harrington to bring food every couple of weeks. Dad wanted to keep Mabel happy, even though we weren’t here.”

“I’ll continue that tradition. Make sure to stay in her good graces.”

“Right? Don’t want an angry Mabel on your hands.” Nicolas knocked into my shoulder and smirked at me.

“How long are you staying in town?” I asked.

“Headed home after a breakfast meeting with the banker.”

I nodded. “Coming back for Pride?”

“I’m bummed to miss out, but Angel has a lot going on for Boston Pride, and I need to be there for him.”

“You’ll be missed. Say hi to Angel and your dad for me.”

“I’ll do that.” He looked at his watch. “I should get going.”

I followed him across the room to the foyer. I hadn’t noticed when I came back in that he’d put a backpack and a duffel by the door.

“Thanks again for making all this so easy.” Nicolas came in for another hug. “I hope camp is fantastic. And enjoy Pride. You’ll be a perfect grand marshal.”

“Thanks, man.”

He knew me well enough to know my struggles, and I appreciated that he kept his support simple.

We walked out to the porch and he headed down the stairs to his car.

“Drive safe.” I waved as he tossed his bags in the back seat.

“Take care.”

As he disappeared down the driveway, I sank into the same rocking chair Nicolas had occupied when I’d arrived. This would be the perfect place to start the day, sipping coffee and soaking in the view.