Page 19

SEVENTEEN

SANTA

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that would be the reason why Charlie Heart came out of retirement.

“Fuck, Nikolay, your hand,” he shouts, but I barely hear it.

It makes sense, I suppose. Everything Gab offered him in exchange for this favor are things every single hockey player wants. I can’t fault Charlie for taking the deal.

Except... how can I know that everything that’s happened hasn’t been orchestrated by them?

“Explain,” I snap at him, louder than I intended. It doesn’t seem to faze him in the least, he just keeps staring down at my hand.

“You’re lucky you don’t need fucking stitches. Come with me.”

He doesn’t give me a choice, simply pulls hard on my other arm and starts walking out of my borrowed room .

Unless the whole staying here is also part of the manipulation? Was this room always meant to be mine?

Fuck, I sound like one of those insane conspiracy theorists who think the planet isn’t round.

In my haze, I allow him to drag me down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he gets a first-aid kit from under the sink.

It’s only then that I look at my hand.

Covered in blood, with a big enough gash across the palm, I feel the sting of the cut for the first time.

“ Shit ,” I hiss, then growl at Charlie when he dumps alcohol on it without any warning. “God, you’re an asshole, Charlie.”

“And you’re a stubborn motherfucker, but we can’t all be perfect.” He keeps muttering as he cleans away the blood and then carefully pinches the skin to put some butterfly bandages along the cut. Then he puts gauze on top, tapes the edges to my palm, and finally, he wraps a bandage around my hand.

“I have to admit, that’s good technique, and your quick reaction was pretty good.” He just looks up at me with a stern face, and I have to give it to him. “Okay, it was better than good. But now I need answers, and another glass of vodka.”

Charlie sighs and shakes his head.

“Go get your giant bottle then.” He nods in the direction of the stairs .

I go, and maybe I run up the stairs. My desperation is showing.

I don’t want to believe it. I can’t believe it.

When I’m back in the kitchen, Charlie directs me to sit on one of the stools on the other side of the island while he cleans everything up.

I listen carefully, dissecting every word, as he tells me about that phone call he received back in September.

“Then what?” I demand, wanting to hear every detail.

“Then I called my mom,” he says simply, and shrugs.

A stab of loss hits me like a freight train. It feels like it fucking stops my heart for two beats. Charlie seems oblivious to my internal hell, and just keeps going.

“She heard me out and then we talked about the whole thing. She asked if I thought Gab’s reasons for wanting you to retire were out of care or carelessness.”

I’m wondering that too .

“I didn’t know.” The tone has me looking up, right at Charlie’s dark, penetrating stare. My eyes lower to his lips but I force them back up after a second.

Can’t think about that now .

Best if I never think about it again, actually.

“I didn’t know her at all... back then.” He lets out a huge sigh, the damp towel he used to clean the island still in his hand. “Since I’ve talked to her, though, I have to say I can’t know for sure what her reasons are, but I do know she cares about you.”

I nod, because I know that’s true .

Since the moment I met her, Gab has been nothing but straightforward and honest, so what’s with all the subterfuge now? Why is this necessary?

She can kick me out of her team any time she damn pleases, but instead of having a conversation with me, she brought in the man I hate most in the world to do it for her...

She couldn’t have known I hate Charlie, though.

One thing I can cross out then. She didn’t bring him here to fuck with me.

“After I got here,” Charlie goes on, his voice bringing me back to the present. “After you gave me that death stare in the locker room,” he mutters with a vicious look my way.

I just stare back. I can’t regret having done that. Other things, yes, I regret them because I lost control of myself, but that death stare , not on the regret pile.

“I went to her office at the Rogues stadium.” I sit up straight. This part I’m very interested in. “I told her I couldn’t think of any scenario where you would ever listen to shit I have to say, especially on a complicated topic like retirement. I offered to leave. To agree to cancel the contract and count our losses. Forget the whole thing.” He makes a slashing motion with one hand and throws the towel in the sink. “She said no way. She said she would figure out what was going on with you, and that she knew I was the only person who could actually put themself in your shoes and understand you.” A long pause where he’s looking down, and then he mutters, “Which I haven’t been able to do. ”

I take a couple of minutes to absorb all the new information, and when I think I have a handle on it, I ask.

“Was this whole thing...” I wave a hand around. “The punishment, living together, being tied at the hip... Was all of it a setup?”

“No,” he says adamantly. “No fucking way.” He frowns. “Laney’s reaction to... today,” he settles on after faltering. “And Barlow’s, were completely warranted I think. And so was Gab’s. She never told me I had to get this fucking close to you.”

I remember the feel of his lips against mine with crystal clarity in that second and suppress a shudder.

Yeah, Gab probably never anticipated that , no one could’ve.

Another thought hits me then.

“Does Jules know?” I remember Bear told me that Charlie went to Gab’s house and Jules was there.

Again, Charlie frowns.

“No—well.” He winces, then, “I don’t think so. I haven’t talked to anyone about it. No one but Gab. And she said that only she and I know.”

So I have to take her at her word.

One of the people I trust most in this world—used to trust, we’ll have to see—has been plotting behind my back to make me leave my family, and I have no idea why.

Later that night, after Charlie threw together one of the best pasta dishes I’ve ever tasted—something I will never tell him—I lie down and stare at the ceiling for what feels like endless hours.

There’s a lot to unpack here.

Of course, the ugly shit is Gab trying to get me off the team and not just coming out and saying it... There’s a lot there, starting with the fact that as my employer, she knows about the process I went through during the off season. Her knowledge of that makes it all worse I think. But in the end what matters is that she didn’t come to me to talk about it. She went behind my back.

It’s unfortunate that she chose Charlie for this task, but then again, with no better defenseman in the league, where the fuck else was she supposed to go?

Instead of focusing more on that—who wants to have such depressing thoughts?—after making a huge list of questions in my head, I decide to bite the bullet and get up to go get my tablet.

I do a search for the most pressing one.

What does demi mean?

I get two very unhelpful results for the literal definition, so I add a queer to the search and there I go down a rabbit hole.

Demisexual and demiromantic.

Who the fuck knew there were so many options?

The longer I read, though, the deeper my frown gets.

I don’t think I’m demisexual or demiromantic. I’ve slept with plenty of women who I wasn’t even remotely emotionally attached to. I even had a girlfriend once, when I was still a teenager, and looking back I didn’t even like her. She had this attitude where she hated everything first and asked questions later.

Soooo that’s not me.

I keep reading but nothing seems to fit. If all the times I remembered the kiss tonight are anything to go by, I definitely want to explore that with Charlie a little more, but I’m clearly not bi since Sterling is probably every bi person’s wet dream.

He doesn’t do it for me.

So, why does Charlie?

Is it because I hate him and it’s kind of, I don’t know... wrong to want him? Is that the lightswitch that turns on my queerness?

Whatever it is, if I want to get any answers on the matter, I’m going to have to kiss him again. But I don’t really want to kiss him again. I don’t want to need him to figure myself out.

Putting the team aside—since this has nothing to do with the Pirates—I still fucking hate him. He’s still a piece of shit deep down.

Tomorrow I’m going to go to work with him, and I’m going to play nice, and hopefully Laney puts us back into our lines in time for the game, but other than that, I don’t owe him anything.

With that, I force myself to go to sleep, and like a good boy, I say good morning to Charlie when I find him in the kitchen drinking a protein shake. I say yes and thank you when he offers me one, and then spend the drive to the rink in silence.

I get a taste of what team life has been like for Charlie when all the guys frown at the both of us when we step into the locker room.

Seems like they’re done with my shit now.

Honestly, I can’t blame them. If it had been any of them, I’d... No, I’d have still had their backs, but they’re my whole world, and I understand I’m not theirs—I don’t blame them for that.

We suit up for the light practice in silence, and when we’re about done Laney comes in.

“Oy,” he shouts. “Heart, Brotnik, you’re not practicing. You’re off the ice for the duration. Everyone else, move your fucking asses.”

My whole body deflates. They’re not even going to let us fucking practice?

Part of me wants to haul ass to Gab’s office, and if she’s not here I’ll hunt her down through all of Vegas. I want to find out what the hell she was thinking, why she wants me out, and what she plans to do with me now that I know about her little plan.

Instead I lock eyes with Charlie.

He looks resigned, sad, and scared.

Against my better judgement, I pat him on the shoulder as I toe off my skates and put my gym shoes back on .

“Let’s go watch practice regardless,” I tell him quietly. He nods and I give him a minute to do as I did. In that minute I catch Jules’s eyes and he just raises an eyebrow at me. I shrug, not knowing what else I can do at the moment.

Together we go over to the bench, then climb up to the stands, two rows up and take a seat, ready to watch. For what, I don’t know, but it’s not like we have anything better to do today.

Well, we could try that kissing thing again.

No, we can’t.

In silence, we watch as all our teammates take to the ice, and two new kids join them. My stomach burns with resentment. What do those boys know about defending our guys?

The one who looks like the sun has never touched his skin wears Babinski on the back of his sweater, and the bronzed one Gianni.

They look like they just stopped using diapers for fuck’s sake. And they’re supposed to replace Heart and me?

Sure, good luck with that.

“They look green,” Heart mutters.

“On that, we can agree,” I answer. He looks at me funny so I scowl at him. “What?” I hiss.

“Your Russian accent is back.” His eyes are steady on mine, and though I want to look away, I force myself to stay still.

“Yeah, so?” I raise a brow at him and he actually laughs. He turns back to the ice, and as if the whole thing didn’t happen, he talks about our dire position .

“You think they’re gonna at least let us train them up a bit before tonight?”

“They’re not playing tonight,” I say with fake certainty.

“I mean sure, there are guys in reserve, but?—”

“Bates will stay in second,” I interrupt him. “If our punishment isn’t lifted before tonight, then Jacobs and Wills are gonna cover for us on first and second. My guess is Laney will put Pool and Potter in their spots in third.”

Charlie says nothing for a long time but then he sighs.

“So they just brought them up from the farm team to fuck with us?” I can barely hear the question with how low he speaks, but I nod all the same.

“I think it’s Gab’s doing for sure. She’s playing the age card on us. Showing us that no matter how great we are on the ice, we’ll never again be able to do shit like that.”

Just then one of the new guys takes off, rounds up behind the net, and on his way back to the group, he jumps and flips in the air.

Charlie shakes his head. “That’s so fucking stupid.” I agree, but I keep that to myself. “You only take risks that could land you in the hospital during a game.”

“Maybe they will try to make us put them in shape. Not like the punishment can get much worse.”

I feel him stiffen next to me, but I don’t regret a word.

It’s the truth, and it’s how I feel.