Page 12

TEN

CHARLIE

Nikolay winces at the whistle, and I can’t blame him.

I’m pretty sure Laney actually leaned in a little so he’d be closer to his ear. It fucking sucks when your coach is mad at you, I can attest, but it’s hard to find it in me to feel bad for him in any way, shape, or form.

The dude is as infuriating and confusing as a man can get.

I thought some kind of bridge had been mended between us after yesterday. Apparently not, I found out just now.

He’s still going to ignore me and be a baby about it. I want to talk things through, I want this elephant to disappear from our lives, but he won’t even talk to me unless it’s something aggressive.

I’m done with his bullshit.

It’s ruining the mood in the locker room—which is something I only realized yesterday .

After winning against my old rivals, the locker room was buzzing. I mean, no one was blasting music or dancing or anything like that, but it was a mood shift so evident that it couldn’t be denied.

I saw Picard talking to Nikolay and both of them were smiling, something I hadn’t seen since arriving here, and I saw all the other players acting like a weight had been lifted off their shoulders.

All of that leads me to the conclusion that that is how it usually goes with them.

So Brotnik’s mood has been fucking up the whole team.

I mean sure, we’ve been winning more than half the games, but not by much, and we haven’t been dominating the way I’ve seen them do from afar the last few years.

Yesterday, after Brotnik went at Quinn with singular focus, we did dominate. We shut them out at five-zero and I even got a fucking goal.

It was everything I thought coming here would be like, but today it all went back to being... mild.

My muscles coil with resentment as I skate back to one side of the ice and Brotnik goes to the other side.

“All right,” Laney says, as he skates over to where Nikolay left the puck and places it on center ice, right between us. “All you have to do is score a goal, Santa.”

I can’t know exactly what look Laney’s giving him since I can only see a quarter of his face, but the tone of his voice is hard enough to send a message. Even though I don’t know what that message is either, I think I can imagine it pretty well.

“Just one?” Santa asks. Ugh, no. That sounds wrong in my head. It’s Nikolay.

“Should be easy, right?” Laney asks back in a mocking tone. Then he turns and skates out. I crouch, ready to start skating as fast as I can to win that puck. Damned if I’m letting Nikolay get one up on me.

The whistle blows again and we’re both off. It doesn’t take me long at all, and from doing this drill years ago—in fucking middle school—I know that the hardest part is this one.

Seeing another player come barreling straight at you and knowing that one of you will have to yield in a way. Accept the role of defense, or risk a painful crash.

Normally I have no issues yielding and defending, I love being a defenseman and always will be one, but not today.

Today I’m going to take that fucking puck and score a goal on the man everyone fears on the ice. Just because I’m not a surly asshole doesn’t mean people shouldn’t respect my game.

I see it in Nikolay’s eyes when he realizes I’m not going to stop or slow down, and I see the moment he makes his choice.

He slows and defends.

I grab the puck without slowing down and keep skating down the ice. The net is my only target, and then?—

Fucking asshole slams me with enough force to make me lose my balance—so a lot of fucking force—and he takes the puck from me just as I’m regaining it. We charge to the other side of the ice but then I bat at his stick and take it from him.

It goes on like that for so long that I lose count of how many times we’ve changed possession of the puck.

We’re matched in speed, agility, skill... in fucking hunger for victory.

I realize as I take the hit from the puck to block it then take control of it, that this is probably what Laney wanted us to realize.

I don’t really need the reminder but Nikolay sure as fuck does.

We’re just as good and just as old.

I’m not better than him, and he sure as fuck isn’t better than me. I hope he realizes this, and I hope it fucking kills his stupid pride.

When Laney blows the whistle, neither one of us has scored, and my legs feel like we’ve been at this for fucking hours.

Actually, it has to be at least one hour, because when I stop and look over, I see most of our teammates standing next to him near the boards, watching the show.

There’s complete silence in the rink—something that’s unnatural and feels wrong—but then the idiots clap and cheer. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me and shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all.

Nikolay skates in front of me to leave but not before giving me a nasty look, brow furrowed, hate clear in his eyes.

I release a breath and roll my own eyes, already tired of it all. This time, it’s me who ignores him when we get back to the locker room and change for a training session in the gym.

We already did the equivalent of a workout and a half, but since we’re the oldest guys on the team—maybe in the league, I should check that—it won’t hurt us to go the extra mile.

End Of December

I shift from foot to foot on the doorstep of Jules’s home. I can hear the party going on inside, but can’t decide if I should knock or not.

I felt pretty included by the team a week ago when we played up in Toronto the day before Christmas Eve. We won that one—the only game from that series, but we decided to ignore that in the spirit of celebrating the holidays.

After that, we had that night—what was left of it at least—Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day free, but we had to be back in Vegas on Boxing Day early enough to make it to practice at ten in the morning.

I of course spent the holidays in Crushville, since it was less than an hour’s flight to Chicago. Finn and Beau both picked me up since they wanted to, and it’s better to let them do things together than to hear them bicker about it.

Those two are the most typical twins of all time. They annoy each other like no one else can, but if you mess with one of them, then you’re going to have hell to pay from both of them.

It was nice being able to spend Christmas at home, though Beau had to work all of Christmas Eve—he had his usual twenty-four-hour shift with the Fire Station—but I did manage to spend some good hours with him on Christmas Day when we went to Lala’s house for lunch and dinner.

And then my uncle Enzo drove me to the airport. He talked me through the process of building my house, which should be ready by May, and it was just all around awesome.

Getting back to Vegas, it hit me how much I want the season to be over. I mean, I know I’ll feel different if we do end up making it to the playoffs—something that’s not a given at the moment thanks to how not in sync the team is still—but for now I just wish I’d stayed fucking retired.

Okay, that’s not true.

At least not completely. I do want to keep playing hockey. Even when I’m retired for real I don’t think I’ll be able to go two days without skating, but knowing that the team isn’t doing as great this season because of me —even if it is indirectly—fucking burns.

It’s a tough pill to swallow, and I’m constantly asking myself if it would be better if I simply tell Gab I’m leaving and take my losses.

But she trusted me to help the team, and I do want to do that.

I don’t particularly want to help Nikolay, though, but telling him he’s old and he should retire seems like the only thing I can do to help Gab at the moment.

A child’s delighted scream from inside the house brings me back to the present. I shake my head, then shake out my arms and legs as well for good measure.

I’m nervous. Of course I’m fucking nervous. This is the first time I’m going to hang out with the team outside our responsibilities for the Pirates and I want to make a good impression.

I’m still surprised Picard invited me to this event if I’m honest, but I’m not regretting saying yes, so without delaying it any longer, I just twist the knob and peek my head into pandemonium.

There are kids everywhere —running around, laughing, jumping, and running to the door at the back of the big room in the entrance.

I step in, already smiling when Picard appears right in front of me... and his husband is with him.

I’ve seen Sterling around a fair amount, so I should be more used to being face to face with the legendary rock star, but I’m not. I swallow my inner fanboy, though, and shake their hands.

“Thanks so much for having me,” I tell them, just awkward enough for me to feel the need to move it all along. “Looks like a great party.” I avoid their gazes.

“Yes, it’s been going great,” Sterling says, with a laugh in his voice.

“What can we get you to drink?” Jules asks with a kind smile.

“Oh, would you happen to have some wine?” I don’t know why I ask, but I regret it immediately. I’m about to take it back... somehow, when Sterling’s face lights up.

“You like wine?” he asks eagerly.

“I do.” I nod.

“And you drink during the season?” Now his eyes are wide open and I feel like I’m stepping into some kind of trap.

“I do,” I repeat hesitantly.

“Oh my God,” he whispers. “You’re like a unicorn. All these other boring fucks don’t drink during the season. Well, except Santa of course.”

There’s a beat of silence that lasts maybe ten seconds but I swear it feels like the most uncomfortable year of my life.

“Right,” Jules says, with forced cheer in his tone. I appreciate it. “Why don’t you get Charlie his wine and I’m going to go outside and make sure all the kids are still alive, okay?”

Sterling nods, then pulls Picard close to him with a hand on his hip and plants a serious kiss on him .

I look away because it seems like such an intimate moment between them. For a moment, they clearly forget that their house is full of people, let alone that one of their guests is standing right in front of them. It’s... hot. I guess. I don’t know.

Before I can think about it any more, Sterling is leading me away to the bar where Mater is with his wife. I introduce myself to her and find out her name is Ingrid, and that her kids are all somewhere around the house having the time of their lives.

Over the next hour, I meet Benny’s boyfriend Chris, and Bates’s girlfriend Caroline. I meet the mother of Jules and Sterling’s kids, Jamie, and I meet Bear’s boyfriend Drew, who greets me shyly before the goalie drags him away without saying a word to me. Drew does offer me a weird smile slash grimace as he’s being pulled in the direction of the back yard, and I decide that’s as good as it’s going to get with him.

Bear is clearly on Nikolay’s side in whatever weird battle we’re having. I understand that, though I only have that kind of bond with my family. I decide to focus on the good things happening today.

Turns out, Ingrid also really likes wine, so we talk about that for a while. I can clearly see how some of the players with kids go out in shifts it seems, and although nothing is outwardly suspicious, I realize something is shifty pretty quickly, though.

Ingrid announces she needs to use the bathroom and after she walks away I ask Mater if there’s another bathroom I could use.

“Yeah, you follow that hallway there.” He points to the far side of the kitchen. “And you’ll get to two doors. One leads to the garage and the other is a bathroom.”

“Thanks man.” I walk over but I’m stopped before I get to the opening of the hallway.

“Where are you going, Charlie?” Chris, Benny’s boyfriend, asks me for some strange reason. He sounds alarmed and I can’t help but narrow my eyes at him with curiosity. Why does he care where I go?

“Mater told me I could use the guest bathroom just past there.” I point to my back.

“Oh, there’s a bigger one next to the front door.” His voice gets high pitched then. Okay, that’s weird, right?

“Yeah, I know,” I tell him slowly. “Ingrid is going over to use that one.”

He turns to see her and then back to me so fast I’m sure he’ll have whiplash, but then he offers me a sheepish smile.

“Okay then. Just let me know if you need anything.”

I nod, not really knowing what to make of him. I think he told me before he owns some nightclub? Maybe he’s just used to playing host?

Maybe Jules asked him for help for such a big event, who the hell knows. I use the bathroom, and when I get out I decide that I need just two minutes by myself. I look around and decide that going out to the back yard through the doors in the living room, or going out through the front door is too risky.

I need to be alone first, then I can get back to being social and trying to maybe make more friends from the team.

I open the door to the garage and find the switch quickly, then I spot another door on the opposite wall. I walk over quickly and find fresh air as soon as it’s opened.

God, it’s amazing how clear the sky is out here in the desert. I can see about a million stars. I keep staring up for a while, way more than two minutes, and decide that there’s no harm in taking just a bit longer. That’s when I hear it.

“You look like my Santa,” an excited kid’s voice rings out from the other side of the house. I don’t know why—probably because I’m curious—but I walk around the wall and see a pretty spectacular Santa Village.

So this is where all the kids were sneaking off to before. It’s a kickass setup, I decide. Definitely the way you want to keep the holidays alive, even when New Year’s Eve is just a day away. I see Jamie, Jake with a baby in his arms, and Jules and Sterling standing in front of a big throne. Sure enough, there’s a man dressed as Santa on the big chair, and from what I just heard, it’s Brotnik. Next to him is a slight man dressed as an elf and smiling sweetly at Ava.

I hear the whole interaction and even smile at how Nikolay fakes an American accent as convincingly as one can.

They leave once Ava has made all her wishes and I’m still smiling when Chris comes out and the elf walks over towards where I am.

Something in me tells me I need to keep seeing this, keep listening, so I move to a palm tree and hope whoever the man in the elf costume is, he doesn’t see me.

And I succeed.

My heart rate slows down enough for me to be able to hear what Chris is saying to Brotnik.

“You okay?”

“I am,” Brotnik replies, though he sounds subdued.

“Did any of the kids puke on you?” Chris smiles teasingly at him and Nikolay snorts inelegantly.

“No, thank all the gods. They were all amazing. Even Mater’s boys, who recognized me.”

“That’s good.”

There’s a long beat of silence then where neither of them speaks, and I find myself holding my breath. Eventually, Chris speaks again.

“Look, Santa, I don’t know why you’re making everyone’s lives so miserable.” I see Brotnik’s head turn sharply and I can already picture the frown he’s sporting, but Chris bravely continues. “ But , I do know you have to have your reasons. In the months since I’ve known you, I’ve seen firsthand how much you care about your teammates. I know I don’t know you too well, but I do know they’re your family. So of course you have to have a good reason for all this drama.

“But I’m going to tell you a story about myself that I think could help put things in perspective for you.” It’s then that I realize maybe this is too private for me to listen to, but I can’t make myself leave. I have to listen. “It’s something you don’t know and something everyone involved in the story knows. Also, I should probably tell you that you shouldn’t tell anyone else about this, just out of respect for your teammates, okay?”

Shit, I really shouldn’t be hearing this.

“All right.” Nikolay’s quick agreement leaves me out of options. Chris just starts talking.

“Before they met Sterling and Drew, and before I met Benny, of course, I slept with Bear and Jules. It happened years apart, and it was only one night, but I had sex with them, and we all found out we all knew each other when they threw a dinner to meet the new guy in Benny’s life.”

My jaw about hits the floor while Chris just takes a deep breath and continues.

“Safe to say that dinner was a shitshow. Sterling hated me right then and there, and he hated me for months after.” Chris chuckles weakly. “I don’t blame him for it,” he adds quickly, shrugging. “Anyway, like I said before, I don’t know what Charlie did to you or why you refuse to make peace with it, but I do know that every single teammate inside that house cares about you. Hell, most people in that house, period. They want you to be happy.

“In my experience—which I know you probably couldn’t care less about—the best way to be happy in the present is to not let the past affect it. You have to accept whatever happened and see what you have in front of you now. Focus on that.”

I still can’t see his expression so I have no clue what he could be thinking, but Nikolay just stays quiet for a long moment, then I see him nod.

“I hear what you are saying,” he says, in a voice thick with emotion, something I’ve obviously never heard before. The door to the living room opens the next second and Gab walks out determinedly. I didn’t see her at the party; I suppose she just arrived.

She walks right past Chris and plants herself on Nikolay’s lap, throws an arm over his shoulders, crosses her legs, and stares at him with the least friendly smile I’ve seen in my life. I shiver just from looking at it.

“You know what I want for Christmas, Santa?”

“What?” I hear the grumble, then I see Gab turn Brotnik’s head to look directly at her with two fingers on his jaw.

“I have been the very best of women alive this year. Mostly because I haven’t murdered any of my players even though they’re actively throwing away their chances of getting another ring this season. What I want for Christmas is for Nikolay to get his head out of his ass. Do you think you can make that happen, Santa?” She’s practically growling by the time she gets to the last word.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Brotnik says eventually. Then he simply stands, with Gab in his arms bridal style. She yelps, clearly not having expected that from him and now clinging to his shoulders.

Nikolay drops her legs—abruptly enough to be considered a bit rude—but he does make sure she has her balance before letting go of her back. Then they both stare at each other again, both looking unhappy.

I hurry my ass back inside and try to act like I didn’t hear everything I just heard.

I’m going to pretend—for my sake and everyone involved in Chris’s story—that I didn’t hear that bit, but everything else Chris told Brotnik paints a very different picture than what I’ve been getting since I arrived.

Maybe it’s time to try again with him.