Page 76 of Home Ice

He looked across the bench at me.

“The brands that went quiet on me in January called back. All of them. There are two new ones interested in me. Up to now, they said they were the kind that didn’t work with creators my size. Apparently, now they do.”

I sensed there was a lot more beyond that.

“There’s a podcast that offered me a recurring segment called Duped, Niko. It’s a weekly segment. I’d be the host. The premise is I interview other people who’ve been publicly deceived, and we heal together. It’s all sponsored by a mattress company.”

I think he expected me to laugh. He leaned forward, and I didn’t laugh.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “What they are paying for is my victim status. I’m the nice, trusting, innocent design guy who got fed to hockey’s PR machine.”

He shook his head. “That’s the story everyone believes now. How can I be the victim, Niko, when I wrote the script? It was my idea to order walleye at the restaurant while eating with a guy who grew up on a farm.”

“So tell them that,” I said.

“How?” Max leaned back slightly. “Walk through it with me. I post a correction. It says nobody was duped. I was there every step of the way in creating the agreement. I explain to any reporter I can find that Rafe’s exactly who they thought he was. What does that look like from me this week?”

“Damage control.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It would look like the team got to me, or Rafe’s people got to me, and now I’m protecting their brands. Every word I say in his defense reads as a payoff.” He set the mug down again. “I’ve spent eight years learning how this machine runs. I can feed it better than anyone I know.”

I sat with that.

“And then there’s a morning TV show holding open a slot for me. They’ve already sent a car service confirmation. They’d film here in Chicago, and I’d interact with the hosts in L.A.”

“It’s a lot of money,” I said.

“Yeah. My manager thinks I’ve had a breakdown. She used the term legacy-defining, and I hung up on her.“ He rubbed his face with both hands. “I’m not taking any money for this.”

“I believe you.”

“I know,” Max said. “That’s why I haven’t left.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“But that’s not why I came here. I want to ask you something.”

My entire body tensed. I knew what was coming.

“I want you to know before I ask it I already know the answer. The question I’m going to ask isn’t the real question. The real question is why I have to ask it.”

I didn’t say anything. The shop was very quiet.

“So here’s the question,” Max said. “And it’s not is there something going on because I will not insult either of us. I’ve known that for weeks and never said a word because it was yours and you’re my brother and I figured you’d bring it to me when you were ready.”

I heard the first hint of tension in his voice.

“So the question is why, Niko. Why haven’t you talked to me?”

I looked at the bench. The block plane sat at the end, squared to the edge.

“I’m in love with him,” I said.

The words came out plain. After a lifetime of never saying that about anyone, the words themselves were weightless.

“It’s been weeks,” I said. “Since before the kiss.”

“The kiss,” Max said. “There’s a kiss?”