Crashing the Net

by Wayland, Samantha

  He didn’t harbor any delusions that Alexei would ever be interested in him as anything other than a teammate, drinking buddy, and chess opponent. But Mike couldn’t seem to stop his growing affection—layered on top of the instant attraction—for his friend.

  So the wink mattered. Probably too much.

  Definitely. Definitely too much.

  He shook off his thoughts—ones he wouldn’t usually allow to disrupt his focus before a game, though god knew they were a constant companion off the ice—and slid into the warm up drills. He focused on the feel of his skates beneath him as he circled the goal, making and catching passes, and joining the team as they put Alexei through his paces and limbered up their arms.

  Christ, it was going to be a long drive back to Saguenay. His dad would have questions. Perfectly innocent ones that any father would ask. Was Mike seeing anyone? What was her name? Hours of torture in the car because his father wanted to catch a game and spend time with his son. Which was a good thing. Or it should be. Mike’s dad was proud of him.

  But that still didn’t mean Mike could tell him the truth.

  His last practice shot on the net went so wide, Alexei paused to look at him and let another two sail by.

  Mike scolded himself to focus on the game. The ice. His team. He shouldn’t be remembering what it had been like to be home for the whole month of July—a mistake he’d never make again. His mother’s veiled hints about how much she looked forward to having grandchildren. His father constantly nudging him to go out and meet a “nice girl”. Even Jayne, with her offers to hook him up with her friends.

  It drove him crazy, and the harder he resisted, the harder they pushed. At least, his parents did. Jayne, at some point over the summer, had stopped asking. He’d wondered if she’d finally begun to clue in until he overheard her telling a friend she was convinced he was hiding a girl he didn’t want the family to know about. Yet.

  Well, she got it partly right. He was definitely hiding something. And the worst part was, he knew he should tell her the truth. Tell them all the truth. But he was a chicken. He didn’t want to see the looks on his parents’ faces when he broke their hearts. There would never be a big white wedding in their church. Or a daughter-in-law who would be thrilled to take his grandmother’s china. Probably no grandkids for his father to play catch with or to take out on the ice.

  So he kept silent. And they kept pressuring him, not knowing that every time they declared their interest in seeing him happy, they made him miserable.

  He’d almost come out once, the need to shout the truth choking him in the final days he’d been home before joining the Ice Cats. Instead, he’d left for Moncton a day early and quietly checked into a hotel here in Quebec City for the night. Frustration and curiosity had finally pushed him to take a risk. To wander Rue Saint-Jean and the surrounding streets, just a couple miles from where he was tonight, until he found a quiet bar with a little rainbow flag tucked in the corner of the window.

  And that sure as hell hadn’t ended up the way he’d hoped.

  Mike shuddered and stumbled into the bench, landing with a jarring thud. He nodded in response to Garrick’s questioning look, trying to smile reassuringly. Based on the way Garrick’s eyebrows rose beneath his helmet, Mike’s fake smile still needed some work.

  Even worse, it was two minutes until game time and Mike’s focus had officially left the building.

  Alexei stood ready in the net, watching his exhausted team battle into overtime, and knew that no matter what else was going on, his eyes should be absolutely glued to the puck.

  He glanced at Mike again.

  Something was wrong. Alexei didn’t know what, but Mike wasn’t right. Shoulders up, mouth grim, holding his stick way too tightly. It wasn’t just the drag of overtime. Alexei had known something was up the moment they’d made eye contact during the warm up.

  A fact he’d been obsessing over ever since.

  In all his years playing the game, Alexei had never known a more reliable, steady player than Mike. The guy was a fucking rock. Except tonight.

  Alexei itched to figure out what was going on. And no, it wasn’t any of his business, but he was going to butt in anyway. The Ice Cats just needed to score. Hell, at this point, Alexei almost didn’t care if the other guys scored. The game just needed to be over.

  His eyes followed the puck, as they fucking well should, as it sailed across the ice. Mike caught it on his blade, set it, and with a mighty swing, shot a rocket from the point.

  Goal!

  Alexei exploded from the net as the team crashed into Mike, their gloved hands banging on his helmet as he grinned. Alexei slammed into the pile and Mike turned, opening a space and wrapping his arm around Alexei’s waist. Pulling him in tight.

  The now-familiar zing to Alexei’s nuts hardly distracted him as their helmets clashed, Mike’s eyes dancing as more players joined the pile-on. They could bury them under the entire team and all Alexei would feel was Mike.

  It was a real fucking problem for Alexei these days. And as much as he hated it, he had a solution in mind. This holiday break, come hell, high water, or province-wide gay man shortage, Alexei was going to get laid.

  For reasons he refused to dwell on, he couldn’t bring himself to do it while Mike was around. But for the next few days, Mike would be gone and Alexei wouldn’t hesitate.

  Much.

  With a final whap to Mike’s perfect ass, Alexei sent him toward the locker room. Mike was all smiles, the haunted look lost to the glow of victory, until his eyes strayed up into the stands.

  It was like watching a light go out.

  Goddamn it, Alexei would figure out what the hell was going on.

  Mike, though, didn’t make it easy. He practically sprinted into the showers, barely rinsed off, and was dressed, hair still wet and standing up in all directions, before Alexei had even stepped into the damn showers.

  Alexei u-turned and threw on his clothes without rinsing off. He stank, but he didn’t give a fuck. Mike was gone before Alexei could pull on his damn shoes. He hadn’t even said goodbye. And Alexei knew he wasn’t going to be back at the hotel later, since he was headed home from here. Tonight.

  Merry fucking Christmas to you, too, Mike.

  Alexei stormed out of the locker room and turned toward the voices he heard from around the bend in the corridor.

  “You won that one. You should celebrate.”

  “No, it’s okay. I just want to get going. It’ll be super late when we get home anyway. Where are you parked?” Mike asked.

  Alexei stopped, still out of sight. He hadn’t realized Mike’s father was at the game, though in hindsight it was obvious that he would be. But why hadn’t Mike mentioned it? Or introduced him to the guys, instead of tearing out of here like the place was on fire?

  “Your mom will be happy to see you. And if we get going, I was going to ask if you already have plans for tomorrow night. I was talking to Bill down at the store and his daughter has been asking about you. You remember Sarah?”

  Alexei thought he heard Mike sigh. “Of course I do, Dad. We went to school together.”

  “Great. Maybe you two could go out tomorrow. She’s around and—”

  “I don’t think so, Dad.”

  “Why not, son? She’s a nice girl.”

  “I’m sure she is. It’s just I’m not—she’s not—”

  “Oh,” Mike’s dad drawled out, clearly having just come to some realization. “Are you seeing someone? I didn’t even think to ask. I figured you would have told us.”

  Alexei crept forward, his stomach churning as he waited for Mike’s answer. He was sure he would know if—

  “Dad,” Mike said patiently, though Alexei could hear he was annoyed. “I’m not seeing anyone. It’s just…”

  “There’s someone special, isn’t there?”

  For a long time Mike didn’t answer. Alexei held his breath.

  ”Yeah,” said Mike on a long sigh. “I guess you could say that.�
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  Mike didn’t sound happy about it. In fact, he sounded incredibly sad.

  Alexei felt kind of nauseous. For a lot of reasons.

  Mike’s father was either stupid or deaf, though, because he said, “Really?” with undisguised happiness.

  “Yes. No.” Another sigh. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

  “Sure, son. Let’s go home.”

  “Great.”

  And with that one word, Alexei knew without a doubt that was the last thing Mike wanted to do.

  “Mike!”

  Alexei’s way-too-loud shout bounced off the walls as he ran down the corridor toward Mike and his father. He racked his brain for an excuse for his abrupt interruption as he bounded around the corner and skidded to a halt at Mike’s side.

  His first thought was that he would have recognized Mike’s father immediately. He was an older, slightly grayer, version of Mike.

  Mike, on the other hand, didn’t look like himself at all. His face was pale except for two bright red spots on his cheeks, and Alexei couldn’t tell if he was terrified or relieved to see him. Maybe both.

  Mike’s father looked at his son with a confused smile.

  “Uh, Dad. This is Alexei Belov, our goalie. Alexei, this is my father, John Erdo.”

  Alexei thrust out his hand. “Sir. It is pleasure to meet you,” he said in his thickest Russian accent.

  Mr. Erdo shook his hand with a nod, his narrow gaze shifting back and forth between Mike and Alexei.

  “Mike, I need speak with you,” Alexei blurted out. “Very important.”

  If he hadn’t been so rattled, he might have laughed at the utterly bemused expression on Mike’s face. Alexei hated pulling his Russkiy routine without warning Mike, but hoped he’d play along. People were generally intimidated by the prospect of conversing with someone who was difficult to understand. The last thing he wanted was for Mike’s dad to strike up a conversation.

  He hooked his hand around Mike’s elbow and tugged. “Come, we go.”

  “Uh, okay. I’ll be right back, Dad, then we can get going.”

  Mike’s father nodded curtly, obviously still confused. And who could blame him? Alexei had no idea what the fuck he was doing either.

  Mike tried, and failed, to yank his arm free. His cheeks burned with humiliation as he was unceremoniously marched into an empty office. There was no way Alexei hadn’t heard Mike’s incredibly stupid admission that there was someone special.

  God, his heart had nearly stopped when Alexei’s voice had rung out while Mike was still wondering what the fuck he’d been thinking to say something like that to his father.

  The moment his arm was released, Mike stepped back. “What’s with the crazy accent, Boris?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong. Except you sounding like the bad guy in a Bullwinkle episode.”

  “Why are you rushing out of here?”

  “Apparently so my father can fix me up with every single woman in Saguenay,” Mike blurted out before clamping his mouth shut.

  “Why?”

  “He and mom are tired of waiting for grandchildren.” Mike saw how Alexei’s eyes widened and almost cracked a smile. “I’m joking. Mostly.” Not really.

  “Why the hurry, Mike?”

  “I don’t know. I’m eager for some father-son bonding time?” And why the fuck did Alexei care anyway?

  Alexei studied his face. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

  “I love my family,” Mike said, and Alexei immediately nodded. For some damn reason it make Mike feel better that Alexei knew that. Believed it. So really, there was little point in lying about the rest. “But no. I don’t really want to go home.”

  “Then come back to Moncton with us.”

  Ignoring the fact that Mike had already told the team he wouldn’t need a hotel tonight, nor the flight home tomorrow, there were still tons of reasons it wasn’t possible. Mike ruthlessly crushed the hope that had sprung to life just by Alexei mentioning it. “I can’t. My dad is here already and my mom would be upset. I’m pretty much stuck unless I’ve got a game or another job.”

  Or get a pair and tell my family the truth. Then, he’d bet, he could spend his holidays however he chose, rather than sitting next to his mom at midnight mass.

  Mike shivered remembering those weeks at home last summer. His only respite had been volunteering on the construction crew for the new rectory at his mom’s church. Well, if it could be considered a respite to spend all day with people who thought homosexuality was an affront to god, and a foreman who blamed “those fucking faggots” for everything from the price of sheetrock to global warming.

  Mike was so lost in the memory, he failed to notice Alexei’s curious look.

  “Why would you need another job? You have a good one with the Ice Cats.”

  Crap. The last thing Mike wanted to get into was his family’s financial issues and his role in creating them. It must have been pretty fucking obvious by whatever expression was on his face, too. Alexei held up a hand before Mike could try to explain.

  “Never mind. We’ll talk about that later. Now, we find you work,” Alexei said with a shrug.

  As if it were that easy. “I don’t have a job and no one is going to hire me for a week.” Particularly since the only thing he knew how to do was play hockey.

  “I will.”

  “What are you talking about? You going to pay me to clean your house or something?”

  Alexei snorted. “I’ve seen your housekeeping. No, thank you. But you can help me build out the apartment next to mine this week.”

  “But, I don’t know how to—”

  “I’ll teach you.”

  Alexei appeared to be completely serious.

  Mike didn’t get it. “Dude, is your landlord giving you cheap rent in exchange for slave labor or something?”

  Alexei smiled. “Dude, I am the landlord.”

  Mike stared at Alexei, clearly shocked. He couldn’t honestly believe he’d told Mike the truth either. Why was it with Mike, he always felt like he was flying by the seat of his pants?

  “You own that building?” Mike asked with a level of amazement that wasn’t entirely flattering to Alexei or the building.

  “Yes. And three others.” Might as well lay out all my secrets.

  “Three others?” Mike paused, his eyes narrowing. “Do I happen to live in one?”

  Alexei grimaced. “Ummm…yes?”

  He’d expected Mike to be angry or annoyed. Surprised. The hurt in Mike’s eyes, his voice, unearthed things in Alexei that were best left buried. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t like to tell people my business,” Alexei snapped, wincing when Mike jerked back. “Until now, okay? Now you’re the only one who knows, besides my property managers and the bank.”

  Mike blinked. Then smiled crookedly.

  It was stupid how happy this made Alexei.

  “Why?” Mike asked.

  “Why do I own buildings?” Alexei shrugged. “You know my father is a slumlord in Moscow. Maybe it’s in my blood.”

  Mike wrapped a hand around his neck and jerked him close, startling Alexei. “Don’t say that. You’re a good person.”

  More happy and stupid burst to life in Alexei. He needed to get a handle on the shit Mike churned up in him.

  But boy, did it please Alexei to see how Mike had come into his own. The kid he’d first met would never have gotten in his face. He liked this man even better.

  Which was one of the many reason why self-preservation dictated that Alexei should keep Mike at arm’s length. But that didn’t come close to overriding his need to help Mike stay in Moncton for the holidays—and a few hundred miles away from his father and the women of Saguenay—if that was what he wanted.

  Mike released Alexei’s neck. “Let’s try that again. Why do you own all these buildings?” he asked patiently.

  “I don’t want to go back to Moscow. I want to stay in Canad
a. In Moncton. I got my citizenship a couple years ago, and it helped to show I had a productive reason to be here once hockey is over.”

  Mike looked like he had a thousand questions, and Alexei realized with a shock that he was willing to answer them.

  “Okay,” Mike said at last.

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.” Then he added, “Thank you for telling me.”

  “You’re welcome.” Sort of. Because while Alexei didn’t regret it, he also wondered if he was making a huge mistake by letting Mike in. He plowed forward anyway. “So, will you come back and spend the holidays in Moncton with me?”

  Alexei hadn’t meant for it to sound quite so intimate, but it was worth it when the haunted look finally left Mike’s eyes. “Yeah, I’ll take the job. I just need to smooth things over with my dad.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No, you better take Boris back to the locker room before someone busts you for that bullshit. I’ll come find you in a few minutes.”

  Alexei laughed, agreeing, and told Mike what he’d pay him for the week. Mike’s eyes widened, but his shoulders also came down from around his ears, confirming Alexei’s suspicion that the money would ease the way with his dad. Alexei swore to himself he’d find out why eventually.

  When Mike went back down the hallway toward his father, Alexei pretended to go the locker room, waiting in the doorway until Mike wouldn’t see Alexei following him.

  “No way,” Mike’s father said.

  “It’s a good job, Dad. I’ll send you a third, like always. It will help with Jayne’s tuition. It’s enough to pay for her books and then some.”

  Mike’s father hemmed and hawed, until Mike told him a sum that was a hell of a lot closer to two thirds of what Alexei had offered.

  Mike’s father agreed.

  Alexei slipped back into the locker room with a confusing mixture of anticipation and dread churning in his gut.