Game, Set, Match (Pride in the Game #2)

Chapter 1

August

August stood out of the way as much as he could, though at six-foot-seven, there was no hiding him. He loathed this. The press of unfamiliar bodies, and the sensation of being trapped in a sea of faces he neither knew nor wished to know.

Every effort to avoid notice felt pointless. Eyes followed him the moment he crossed any threshold, even in a massive airport where crowds should have erased him. Their gawking stares set his skin ablaze, heat crawling up his neck until his ears rang with an insistent buzzing.

His temper was always like that; restless and volatile—an unseen pressure building beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest spark to erupt into an inferno.

It was one of the reasons why August played hockey. Who needed anger management and therapy when you could beat the shit out of someone on the ice and get cheered for it?

And that was acceptable on the ice, but dealing with his emotional problems off ice was the difficult part. August didn’t normally have an issue when he was alone in the comfort of his home, but here?

The pointing. The laughing. The excitement and crossing of personal space boundaries.

He hated it.

August had put on a Bigfoots cap and sunglasses that morning to hide his white-dyed hair and face, but it didn’t help much. He was a recognizable celebrity to most people in Vancouver, and a freak of nature to the rest.

August didn’t know why his captain had sent him to pick up their new teammate when they had staff who could help the newbie out. Hell, the guy was an adult who should be able to figure shit out on his own.

Knowing Eren Callahan, there was an ulterior motive behind it. The captain of the Vancouver Bigfoots never did anything half-assed.

August had purposely put himself out of the team loop during the summer after they lost the cup last season. To come so close only to lose in game seven was a huge hit to the ego, and he was maybe, kind of, not really—moping about it.

It wasn’t as if the Bigfoots had ever stood a chance; not with Jett Fraser tearing through the playoffs like a one-man wrecking crew, leaving every team in ruins behind him.

The Sunbursts’ star had always ranked among the league’s elite, but whatever happened over Christmas break, which was still a closely guarded secret, had pushed him into a league of his own.

August liked Fraser. He liked his sunny personality and his loyalty to his team, which was arguably one of the worst in the league.

During the last game, August spoke with Fraser because he felt like he had to say something.

The December incident wasn’t talked about for privacy reasons, but August had seen the scars on Fraser’s arms thanks to pictures from nosey people on the internet, and he’d seen the state of Harrison Killinger, too.

August sensed something profound had happened. A life-threatening situation would throw any player off their game, but not Fraser.

And that’s why August shook his hand that night.

Anyone watching could take it however they liked, but August knew a tough sonofabitch when he saw one, and it wouldn’t have felt right to go against an opponent like Fraser without acknowledging how badass he was.

It didn’t make the loss hurt less, but if there was anyone August could stand losing against, it was Jett Fraser.

Until next season.

On top of all his sulking over the Cup loss, August now had to play babysitter to their newest teammate, who was a former Sunburst, of all people.

It was his job to show the guy around the city and drag him to training camp to meet the rest of the team.

Which was ridiculous, really, because August was hardly the friendliest face on the Bigfoots’ roster—

His thoughts screeched to a halt as the realization hit—this was exactly why Callahan had sent him.

The memory came back abruptly. A post-playoff gathering at the captain’s house, where sympathy beers had been passed around, and conversations lingered in the haze of defeat.

August had only shown up out of obligation, slipping into a corner seat where he could scroll through Tinder profiles in peace while his teammates raised hell around him.

The plan worked…briefly. Then Callahan caught sight of his lone-wolf routine, and before August knew it, he was pinned with a drink in hand, spilling his woes to the captain like he was at confession.

Because, despite spending two years with the Bigfoots, August hadn’t formed a single lasting friendship.

Not that he’d really tried.

Most of the guys were older, married, or busy chasing after toddlers instead of going to nightclubs. Domestic life wasn’t August’s world. Maybe one day he’d want it; the house, the wife, the kids, but until he found some miracle of a woman willing to put up with him, it wasn’t in the cards.

Not fitting in with the rest of the team only deepened his sense of being an outsider.

August was their youngest player with nothing to show for himself beyond hockey.

And, thanks to a few too many beers and Callahan’s sympathetic pats on the back, he’d spilled every bit of that information to his captain.

So now, August was standing in the middle of a busy airport while he waited for his newest teammate to show up. A teammate who was younger than him, and who had a Stanley Cup trophy under his belt with the champion ring to prove it.

The plane he was waiting for finally began to unleash its prisoners, and August shoved off the wall, weaving closer through the crowd. A woman’s startled gasp barely registered as she stepped hastily out of his path, muttering about how scary he was.

So. Fucking. Annoying.

August knew he had to at least try to look approachable so he didn’t scare the new guy away, but it was hard when every gaze in the room was locked onto his scowling face, making him feel exposed.

“That’s August Snow,” he heard a teenage boy tell his friends excitedly. “He’s the best defenseman the Bigfoots have seen in forever. Think we should ask for an autograph?”

August tightened his jaw until it started to ache. God, he fucking hoped they didn’t ask him because then he would be forced to stand there for hours and sign everything from tits to napkins.

“Do you think I could ask for his number? I’ve always wanted to go mountain climbing,” one of the girls asked, giggling as she held onto her friend.

August sped up, eyes searching for a head of black hair amongst the crowd below. It was his lucky day because the group of teens didn’t come any closer, leaving him to his task in peace.

Even with the height advantage, it took time to find the man he was looking for. August thought he might find the guy buried under a group of eager fans begging for an autograph from a Stanley Cup Champion, but that wasn’t the case.

Niko Cote looked every bit as awkward as August felt as he was swept along with the roaming cluster of people around him. He kept panicking and looking down at his phone like he was waiting for instructions—most likely from Callahan—and pulling his bags behind him.

August planted himself in front of the man, arms crossed, waiting to be acknowledged. And surprisingly, it took a long time for him to be seen.

Green eyes flicked up and went wide right before Niko ran into him, and August was momentarily distracted by the colour.

“Oh, thank God.” Niko visibly sagged with relief the moment he spotted him. “I need to get out of here. I nearly got mobbed mid-flight, and mothers were literally holding up their screaming babies like ransom for autographs.”

August grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Like…were they saying the baby wanted an autograph or were they using the crying to force your hand?”

“Both,” said Niko. “I was the one crying by the time the plane landed. Next time, I’m paying for seats in first class.”

August thought it was weird that Niko hadn’t done that originally. It’s not like the guy couldn’t afford them, but it was none of his business.

“Ready to go to camp?” August asked, turning to frown at a man who was getting too close to them. “I was told to be your chaperone for the day.”

“Uh…” Niko looked back at his phone, lips quirking into a smile at whatever he saw was written. “That works for me. I don’t want to bother you too much.”

The only bother so far was that Niko seemed more interested in his phone rather than his new teammate standing in front of him. One playoff win, and the kid was already on an ego trip.

“Is she cute?”

That got Niko’s attention. He flinched and dropped the phone, roughly shoving it into his pocket.

“No—no girls,” Niko said, his cheeks flushing. “Nope, no girls for me.”

His stuttering made August smile. “Are you saving yourself for marriage?”

When Niko peered at the people surrounding them, August got the hint. They weren’t going to have this conversation in the open.

“Come on.” August gestured for the newbie to follow him and started leading the way toward the exit. He could interrogate Niko about the girlfriend he was too shy to talk about once they were in his car and safe behind locked doors.

Niko was nervous, which was a strange trait for a hockey player. August remembered playing against him last season and had thought the rookie was detached in a cool sort of way, but the guy jogging behind him was acting like he was uncomfortable in his own skin.

Niko shied away from people and ducked his head to keep from meeting their gazes. There was no sign of the confident player on the ice who had outskated August at every opportunity, only a twenty-year-old boy who was hunched in on himself while he walked.

They would have to fix that. No star player on August’s team was going to act like they were walking on eggshells if he could help it.

August ushered Niko toward his car, flashing a grin that said, “Prepare to be impressed.”

But nothing. Niko didn’t even blink.

August’s jaw tightened. He’d spent more on this car than people paid for their house, and apparently, it came with an invisibility cloak.

“Does this thing have a trunk or…?”

Grumbling, August took Niko’s bags and loaded the car, catching the kid on his phone again before they got inside.

“Seatbelt on, Cote.” August barked the order, and Niko was quick to put the phone away and comply. “And fucking spill. Who is she?”

Niko’s nose crinkled as he clicked the buckle into place. “She?”

August took a breath and held it to keep his temper from boiling over. He didn’t trust himself to speak until he let it out. “Your girlfriend you keep giggling about. Is she back in Toronto, or is she a local girl from your town? I know you’re from around here.”

“If by around here, you mean on a reserve?” Niko’s cheeks were red again, and he jumped when August started the car, making the engine roar to life. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I was talking to…Su-jin Park and Jett Fraser. We have a group chat.”

August hit the brake before he had a chance to pull out of his parking spot, and the car jerked. They had a group chat? Was it only for elite players or—

“Also, I’m gay.”

Oh.

Oh.

“I didn’t mean to giggle, but Park was bullying me into asking you if your carpets match the drapes, and I don’t see the point in that since there’s no way his carpets and drapes are all pink—which Coach agreed—”

Coach. Coach as in Harrison Killinger.

“And then everyone jumped in on the conversation—”

Everyone? Who was everyone?

“Which led to Leroux telling us all to settle down, and Park hitting on him—”

étienne Leroux?

“And that’s why I was laughing. It wasn’t because I was talking to a girl; it’s because Leroux was giving Park a verbal dressing down via group chat, and Jett was making comments about printing and framing it as Park’s housewarming gift.

Park bought land from Coach so he could keep an eye on everyone once his place is done being built. He’s such an attack dog sometimes.”

The awkwardness had evaporated from Niko’s body, leaving this rambling, smiley guy in his place. There was so much that August had to process from this conversation, but all his mind could focus on was, “You’re gay?”

Niko wasn’t fast enough to hide his grimace. He immediately shifted his posture into the hunched awkward one from before, struggling to meet August’s eyes.

“Shit. Is that…not okay?” Niko asked, frowning. “Park said you would be cool with it, but I never asked how he came to that conclusion.”

Was he okay with it? August didn’t give a damn who a person slept with or what gender they preferred. He was just being selfish because he’d secretly hoped Niko would be into girls so they could bond over something.

“It doesn’t bother me,” said August before Niko could panic. “Park was right—you won’t have a problem with me, or anyone else for that matter, because I won’t let them give you shit. But how does one get in on this group chat? It sounds awesome.”

For good measure, August offered Niko a smile as a truce.

Niko’s eyes finally met his again, but he was still frowning. “You have to be…like us.”

August blinked. “Hockey players?”

Niko shook his head. “No. You have to be gay—or at least into guys in some capacity.”

The hopeful feeling that had secretly been building inside him was instantly crushed. August chuckled and turned his gaze to the windshield, backing the car onto the road. “That’s not me, unfortunately.”

Niko apologetically clapped him on the shoulder, and he did look sad about denying him access to the group chat.

August wasn’t too disappointed. Callahan’s plan to help him make new friends had failed, allowing him to sink into the familiar depths of unforgiving loneliness that had been his constant companion for years.

No matter who tried to intervene, August was acutely aware he was destined to be an outsider in every part of his life. All he had was hockey, and sometimes, it didn’t even feel like he had that.

He turned the music up so Niko could return to talking with his friends, and tried to focus on the road.