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“That’s the one,” he says as he circles back.

“I know.” I collect another puck. “Now, we do it again.”

Tripp starts his route, but before he reaches center ice, I call his name and he turns. I send the puck toward him more gently this time. It slides across the ice and meets his stick.

“Thanks,” I say.

Tripp glances down at the puck. “For the pass?”

“The game the other night.” I skate in a slow circle while I try to arrange the rest of the sentence. “You came out there for me. You didn’t hesitate. That was…” I look toward the empty stands. “It was pretty cool.”

“Pretty cool?” I don’t have to look over to know the expression on his face would be filled with humor, aimed at me.

I hold a finger in the air and close my eyes. “I’m working up to sincere. Don’t rush me.”

“We’re on the same team.” He gives the puck a light smack in my direction. “I’d like to think you’d do it for me.”

I stop it with my blade.

“Yeah.” I guide it ahead of me, skate toward the net, and tap it across the line. “I’d like to think I would too.”

I turn back toward him.

“I don’t know if I would have,” I admit. “Not then.”

“Well.” He pushes away from the boards. “That takes some of the shine off your thank-you.”

“I said I’m working on it.”

“You could’ve stopped at pretty cool.”

“Do you want to clear the air or not?”

“I’ve wanted to clear the air for years, but you were the one with the problem.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

Tripp looks around the empty rink as though hoping someone else heard that.

“Let me rephrase. I am an ultra-competitive person when I hit the ice,” I amend. “And, I have had a competitive relationship with you. It has been brought to my attention, fairly recently, that I may have a habit of measuring myself against…”

I stop, because this admission is gonna hurt. “...against you.”

“Measuring yourself? Competitive relationship?” Tripp stares at me with his mouth hanging open. “You have acted like I insulted your entire family or stole all of your Christmas presents every time I stepped onto the ice.”

“Are you kidding? Stolen puck at Pittsburgh, the time you checked me at the door, then there’s the game where…”

“That’s why you think this started?”

“No, that is where it started.”

“Oh, Snyder." Tripp laughs and tips his head back. “All these years, I thought we were having fun.”

I let that sit while I collect the pucks near the net. Tripp follows, sweeping the strays into a loose group with his stick.

“It’s more than all of that. It’s you showing up on my team. Moving into Eva’s building⁠—”

He smirks. “Did that yesterday.”