Page 21

NINETEEN

SANTA

I watch carefully as understanding comes into Charlie’s eyes, then wait two seconds for him to step back but he doesn’t.

Keeping my grip on the sides of his face firm but gentle, I tip his chin up just enough for the angle to be perfect, then lean down.

Softness is all I can think about when our lips touch, but then, like gasoline being poured over a lit match, an inferno is born.

I close the space that was left between our bodies and press my chest to his. The feel of the warmth of his body makes me groan into the kiss. Charlie gasps right then and I take it as an invitation. I invade his mouth with my tongue and take my time savoring each smooth glide.

Then, the moment I always like the most when kissing someone, his reaction .

His hands come up to my hips and his lips move against mine. When he flicks his tongue against mine, I press my body even harder against his. When his fingers flex on my sides and he pushes his chest against mine, I startle at the realization that I’m getting hard .

From kissing a man.

The surprise is enough to bring me out of it, but I don’t stop the kiss abruptly. Instead, I retreat and kiss him gently, then lift my head just slightly.

Looking into his dark eyes, I wonder what’s going on inside his head. Is he as confused as I am? As desperate for more?

“Could be a demi thing,” I murmur without meaning to.

“What?” he asks, looking like someone just scared the crap out of him.

“It’s this thing Bear said,” I explain, still not letting go of his face. “I didn’t know what he was talking about but I researched it last night and I think he meant demisexual.”

“Yeah, I know what demi is. You talked to Bear about this?” He’s frowning, so I do my best to talk carefully around this minefield of a conversation.

“I didn’t tell him you’re the man who kissed me, just that it was a man,” I explain quickly. “How do you know what demi means?”

Charlie only stares at me for a moment, long enough for his eyes to almost lure me back in, but then he shakes his head.

“Like ten years ago, when he told us he’s gay, my little brother Finn got the whole family together and he explained a bunch of terms to us.”

“Huh,” I say dumbly. What else am I supposed to say? It’s a sore subject for me and probably always will be. “So...”

I keep the dumb commentary going splendidly .

“Yeah, so,” Charlie says on a sigh, then chuckles shyly and looks away. He clears his throat and finally steps back from my grip. “You kissed me.”

“You kissed me first,” I defend for no reason at all. He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “It’s going to take some time to get used to not hating you, okay?”

“Sure, whatever. Hopefully as short a time as it took you to get used to kissing me.”

“That attitude is not appreciated,” I tell him, secretly grateful that he’s not making me talk about the kiss right now. I need to think about this carefully and not be my usual impulsive self.

He rolls those dark eyes and turns around. “What do you want for dinner?”

Everything inside me lights up at the prospect of getting more of that yummy pasta, but I think about it carefully. What kind of pasta am I in the mood for today?

“Do you know how to make lasagna?” I call out, following him.

“Do I know how to make a lasagna,” he murmurs and scoffs. “Of course I know, but it’s going to take some time, so make us both shakes while I get to work. ”

I do as he says, and while the blender is killing my eardrums it hits me.

I feel lighter.

I feel happy.

Not the only things I’m feeling of course, since we still have huge issues to combat—and that list will grow to infinity if we keep making out—like Gab being mean, and Laney benching us... and being mean.

I feel like myself for the first time in months and it’s fucking awesome. It makes me want to jump up, so I do. Right there by the stove, with the blender spinning as fast as it can, I jump and whoop for no reason other than I feel like it.

It’s kind of a miracle.

The old Santa is back .

“They have to let us go on the roadie, right?” Charlie asks as he plates the orgasmic-looking lasagna.

“Uh-huh,” is all I can manage as my mouth waters. I don’t even feel bad about not processing a word he’s saying.

I’m fucking hungry.

The shake didn’t do much to fill me up and I’ve been smelling this gift from the gods for more than an hour. Charlie snapped at me more than a few times for trying to taste-test the ragu, and then the bechamel, and then the salad he forced me to prepare .

There was a lot of snapping and a lot of him looking at me like I was an alien.

I get it, he’s not used to me like this since he’s never seen me like this. But soon enough he won’t even remember grumpy Santa.

“I’m going to talk more about the kiss if you don’t pay fucking attention to me, Nikolay.” His stern tone doesn’t pry my attention away from the plates. I’ll just keep staring at the food until I’m able to eat it. “I don’t think you’re demi,” he says casually, and that does get me to look up. Damn him.

“Why not?” I demand. I figured last night I’m probably not, but after that kiss... I mean, what other explanation is there?

“Because before you understood I’m not a scumbag you couldn’t care less about me.” He seems so unbothered by it all. Like it’s just another day of the Charlie Heart life doing Charlie Heart things.

“I get that,” I say slowly. “But after that kiss I don’t know if I can trust anything I thought I knew about myself.”

He smirks, pure self-satisfaction in his face.

“I’m that good, huh?”

I snort, shake my head, and decide that focusing on the food again is the way to go here. I like this side of Charlie—playful, a little cocky, but still maintaining his soothing calmness.

I slice the corner of my piece of lasagna with the side of my fork, and when I get that first taste, I can’t keep the moan of ecstasy in. My eyes close with the intensity of it. It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.

“Yeah, I’m that good,” Charlie says with satisfaction, but I just ignore him in favor of taking in this religious experience to the fullest.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, and I’m grateful for them. My head is full of what ifs and feelings , so taking just a little while to enjoy something else is exactly what I need.

When I do feel like talking, I definitely don’t want to open the can of worms that is my messed up head. Instead I go for what is somehow a safer topic for me.

“I think they’re going to let us play sooner rather than later,” I say at length. Charlie looks at me thoughtfully.

“Really? You think the team is better off with us on the ice than off?” The skepticism isn’t lost on me, so I lean back in my chair and make sure he can see in my eyes just how serious I am.

“Now that I don’t want to throttle you, yes.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t believe me or what, but he goes back to eating and focuses fully on his plate. I feel like I need to say something , though. Like I have to get him to believe in us.

“I think the team needs to win today, so we don’t have the worst roadie ever.”

He stops chewing for only a second, so I know he’s listening even if he doesn’t react in any other way. I struggle to come up with the right words to explain myself, but after hesitating for way too long, I make my peace with using the words I have.

“I want the team to win tonight,” I clarify. “Even if it’s without us. We have to show them that we’re there for them, Charlie. Always. We have to show up tonight and be there. I have no way of knowing for sure if they’re taking us on the roadie, but I think it’s better for the team if we’re there instead of them wondering whether we’ve killed each other for the next two weeks.”

He leans back and finally looks up.

“So it’s especially important that we show them we’re no longer fighting and are only focused on the team.”

My breath stalls for a long moment.

I hear what he’s saying, but most importantly, what he isn’t saying.

Two players kissing isn’t something our team should have to deal with right now. They don’t deserve that from us. As far as the world knows, it’s never happened before. Two players... being together.

Not that Charlie and I are together.

It was just two kisses, but still.

“We can’t fuck them up any more than we already have.” I voice my conclusion.

“Agreed,” Charlie says, resolute. Though the nervous way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat tells me maybe he’s as unnerved by it as I am.

And now I want to lick his throat .

Shit, why has a man’s neck never been sexy like this before? Why now?

“So we’ll stay in line and show them we’re there for them.”

I look back up, into his black eyes, and shift in my seat.

I nod once, then get back to eating. It’s not like I can do or say anything else, is it?

Charlie

There’s no way on God’s green earth I could ever have imagined Nikolay behaving like this. So carefree.

Almost childish.

It’s definitely simple fun, what he’s having, but it’s so innocent... it does not compute.

We decided that even though we’re not playing, we’re not going to change our routines, or well, not more than we already have. So we part ways after eating to get some rest.

After a restless afternoon nap, where I only managed to get about twenty minutes of solid sleep since there was too much to think about, I come down to the kitchen to find Nikolay making omelets and a freshly made protein shake on the counter.

He’s wearing pressed gray suit pants, just like me, but he’s also wearing a lighter gray vest over his button-down shirt. I see the jacket hung over the back of one of the stools. I’ve seen him wearing suits throughout the whole season—we all have to dress perfectly for game days—but this time it’s different.

This time I know how that body feels pressed against mine.

“It’s for you,” he says, casual as ever. As if twenty-four hours before he hadn’t wanted to rip my head off .

I can’t manage to say anything but a quiet thank you for the “snack” as he called it, and though I’m comfortable with his presence in my house, the kiss from earlier is still replaying in my head constantly.

It was one hot fucking kiss.

And he’s the one who initiated it that time.

Even though he firmly closed the door on anything like that ever happening again, I still can’t let it go.

When we’re done and we walk out of the house, he stands before me in the driveway and seems to be vibrating with repressed energy when he asks, “Can I drive it?” He gestures to my SUV, and since I’m still feeling the hours of missed sleep, I shrug and toss him the keys.

He grabs them out of the air and sprints to the driver’s side, takes his jacket off again to put it on the back seat, then climbs in. I do the exact same thing, but not at the speed of light, so he’s already seated and fiddling with everything when I settle on the passenger seat.

Watching his eyes light up with excitement as he moves the seat back, as he raises the height of the wheel and moves the position of the mirrors, I can’t block the visceral need to kiss him again .

Instead of following my asinine instincts, I grab onto the “oh shit” handle with one hand and bury the other one beneath my thigh.

Nothing to see here, nothing to see.

“Do you have a spare key to the house or should we go get one made?” he asks, focusing way too hard on the panel behind the wheel. I keep gripping the handle like my life depends on it.

“I have a spare key,” I tell him in a measured tone. “I’ll give it to you later.”

“Awesome.” I see his smile through his profile and something inside me trembles at the sight.

After that, Nikolay lists every little thing he notices about my car on the fifteen minute drive, so I take all that precious time to calm the fuck down. It’s nice that I don’t feel like I have to fill in any awkward silences. In fact, when we’re about to walk through the players’ entrance and he rounds on me with a determined expression, I realize that with the normal Santa in attendance there never will be an awkward silence.

“Remember what we talked about,” he starts, like a warning. “We’re going to go in there together and show the guys that we support them. Show a united front, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” I say with a nod, working on getting rid of the stupid nerves that just bloomed at the thought of watching the game from the sidelines.

“Awesome, let’s go. ”

I make a concerted effort to walk next to him because we do need to show a united front. We have to show the team that we’re on their side and we’ve gotten our heads out of our asses.

Twenty minutes later, though, we come face to face with the fact that one little gesture, like not bickering, is not going to get us back into anyone’s good graces.

Our teammates, especially the younger ones, don’t act any differently toward Nikolay, but they’re a lot more welcoming to me—even more than they had been previously—after he claps me on the back before he goes to talk to Bear.

But when the guys are dressed up and ready to go, Laney comes in, and if looks could kill...

“What are you two doing here?” he asks us, and looks down at our suits with a snarl.

Yeah, I’m not happy about not being in gear either, but why can’t we be down here?

“To go out with the team?” Nikolay asks in his smartass tone.

“Not happening, Santa. You two go up to the players box and watch from up there.”

He dismisses us by looking away without another word and I feel Nikolay’s shoulders droop the same way mine do.

We walk out without making a sound, and I don’t dare look anyone in the eyes.

I have never been in this fucking situation before .

“Is it super dramatic to say it feels like we’re exiled?” I ask without thinking once we’re in the elevator.

“No,” Nikolay says definitely. “It feels like that, but...” He sighs loudly the moment the doors open. “We’re going to fight our way back.” He smiles as he speaks and I’m not quite sure if it’s because he believes what he just said or because there are people milling around the hallway that leads to all the suites in the arena.

He walks briskly, and I match his pace, not really feeling like having a conversation with any fan right now that could lead to either one of us having to explain why we’re not playing.

As far as I know, no official statements have been made from the Pirates’ front office, but I strongly believe in keeping my mouth shut when it comes to these types of situations.

I get a Coke from the fridge inside the suite and Nikolay goes for a water. Since no one told us what to do or how to act, I go and sit on the outer seats where we’ll have one of the best views of the night.

Nikolay doesn’t join me right away, and when he does, I see he has a notebook and a pen.

He must see my curious gaze because he explains without prompting.

“To take notes to bring to the guys during the intermissions.”

“If Laney will let us into the locker room,” I grumble and take a sip .

“Turn your frown upside down, Charlie.”

My answering smile has no chance of not appearing. He’s funny, using that overly optimistic phrase sarcastically.

Before the game starts, some fans notice us and shout our names, wave excitedly, and point us out to their companions.

I follow Nikolay’s lead and wave back but don’t encourage any of them.

The first three shifts of the first period go pretty smoothly. Neither team scores, but we hold our own. But fifteen minutes in, disaster strikes.

They get two goals in, taking advantage of the fact that a player fell down on his own, and then winning a battle by the boards against another player. The first was Pool, and the other Wills. Both are playing with different guys tonight because of our stupid asses.

We each fill pages with things to tell the team if we get the chance, and Laney looks like his head is about to explode when we come into the locker room a minute after the first intermission starts, but his face relaxes a fraction when Nikolay holds up the pages.

The head coach simply nods and stands back.

Then it’s him and me, talking to the team, telling them all the ugly truths of what we saw during the first period. We each take a turn talking to one of the displaced groups of defensemen, giving them tips on New York’s players and basically word-vomiting all over them.

There’s no way of knowing if they’ll retain any of it, but as I stand in the middle of the room and watch them walk out to start the next period, I feel just slightly better than I did before.

“They did good,” I say, my voice scratchy.

It’s an understatement. New York scored again as soon as the second period started and I feared that might demoralize our guys beyond repair, but they rallied.

With ten seconds left in the game we’re winning five to three, and I’m no longer happy.

Not the way I was when they scored each and every goal. I even high-fived Nikolay and let myself smile at him.

Now though?—

A hand on my thigh stops my thoughts in their tracks.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he tells me softly. Tentatively, like I’m made of glass and he’s scared of breaking me into a million pieces.

When it comes to him, I might as well be .

But this . . .

“Oh, really? Then what am I thinking?” I ask without looking at him. If I do then he might see too much of what I’m feeling—’cause there’s a lot going on.

“I know because I’m thinking the same thing,” he drawls, and his hand—which is still resting on my thigh —squeezes my leg gently.

I don’t know whether he does this with all of his teammates, but if he does then someone needs to talk to him about boundaries.

“They won without us out there with them, which could be interpreted as they don’t really need us. Which means our spots on the team could be in jeopardy permanently .”

Well, he hit the nail on the head .

“I could never play again,” I whisper, my throat closing at the thought.

How is it that less than a year ago I was absolutely certain that retiring was the right thing to do for me, but now that it’s a possibility again, it fills me with terror?

Where’s a world-class therapist when you need one?

“You will, though.” The conviction in his voice has me finally looking over at him.

“How do you know?”

“Because they won because we gave them the confidence. We went into the locker room and showed them everything they did wrong, yes, but we also gave them ways to fix it and beat them back. And they did. ” I can only shake my head and look away. He growls and pulls his hand back. I miss it instantly. “You’re letting fear get to you, and I won’t let you do that to yourself. I know Laney better than most, and I know he’s well aware of what we did for the team tonight. You have to believe me, because when you do get back on the ice, I’m going to be right there with you.”