Chapter 24 #2
“Keeping up with Park is no fucking joke,” Niko muttered.
His black hair was drenched, and he had a towel sitting over his head, which he occasionally used to mop the sweat from his face.
“Jett was at least predictable because I know his plays well enough to read them, but Jin’s skating is as chaotic as his personality. ”
Callahan groaned from across the room at Niko’s words. “It’s the figure skating shit. It’s like he’s dancing around us or something.”
Coach entered the room, his scowl looking particularly pissy tonight. “Is that crying, Callahan? No tears allowed in here. Save it for showers.”
Nollan Haas—or Sauce—their rookie goalie, snickered like Coach was telling them a joke, which had Logan struggling to hide his smile by crushing a towel to his face.
“The kid has no survival instincts,” Logan whispered to August. “That, or he’s just a goalie. Coach didn’t even glare at him, so I’m betting on the latter.”
Fedorov wasn’t glaring at Haas, but he was glaring at August and Niko. “You two, stop galloping like deer caught in snowstorm and move your feet faster. You’re giving Park too much open ice—tighten it up.”
August nodded, and the rest of Fedorov’s pep talk faded away as one of the medical staff came over to check his knee. Nothing ever escaped their sharp eyes, so August was forced to sit patiently while his leg was flexed, bent, twisted and taped to strengthen it.
The ice pack combined with the tape helped ease the throbbing, and August thanked the doctor with a grateful nod.
“I’m not going to let another puck into my net,” Haas said, his expression shifting from playful to serious. “I got a feel for it now. Trust me.”
August didn’t know if that was possible with how quickly Jin could release the puck, but Haas’s words stirred a wave of determination in the room, and it felt like everyone was on board.
When they went back for the second period, not only did Haas not let a single puck past him, but Niko and August both managed to score against the Conclave, tying the game.
This only served to amp the team up even more during the second intermission, and by the time they hit the ice for the third period, August’s knee was killing him, but he was ready to break the tie and win.
“You’re moving kind of slow, Old Man Winter,” Jin chirped over the manic crowd on their way to the face-off. “Maybe you should consider retirement.”
August grinned and lifted his chin, a move that tended to infuriate shorter players, and Jin was no exception. “Park, I’ve been dying to know—when you hire a party planner for your birthday, do they ask if you want it Minecraft or Spider-Man themed before you tell them how old you are?”
Jin’s furious response wasn’t in English, so August shrugged and took his place for the puck drop, chuckling when he saw tears of laughter clinging to Niko’s dark eyelashes.
When the puck hit the ice, Jin was still too pissed to win the faceoff, but he was on August’s ass the second the puck touched his tape.
He cut across the blueline with Jin glued to his hip, their skates scraping in perfect, furious sync.
Niko opened a lane with a rough shrug on the Conclave player tailing him, and August took it, snapping his wrist and sending the puck sailing clean over the Ottawa goalie’s pad.
The roar of the crowd and goal horn was deafening, and August was all smiles as he was shoved into the corner boards by his teammates.
“Fucking awesome, Snow,” said Callahan, slapping him on the shoulder with enough happiness to erase any of the lingering tension between them.
The play happened in under a minute, and the Conclave players were furious that Niko didn’t get called for a tripping penalty. Their captain got in Niko’s smiling face, shouting as whistles blew and the big guys with the stripes got in between them.
“This is bullshit! That was an obvious trip!”
August was already yanking Niko backward by the collar when he shouted, “How about you learn to stay on your fucking feet? Tie your laces a bit tighter, you bum!”
Fucking hell. August would have to ask Coach about investing in a bark collar for Niko.
August didn’t let go of him until they were in front of the bench to celebrate with team fist bumps, and then he opened the gate and made Niko go in first. There was no point in getting a penalty after scoring because Niko wanted to goad the other team into a fight.
He was about to sit and watch the replay of his goal when his eyes landed on Quinn, who was sitting behind their bench. Feeling bold and foolish, August lifted his stick and tapped a finger to the green tape, winking at Quinn so there was no mistaking his meaning.
Quinn’s face went red, and he quickly yanked his scarf up to his eyes to hide them.
There. August wasn’t…terrible at flirting.
But he forgot about Callahan, who was waiting to walk through the gate after him, and had undoubtedly seen the exchange between August and his brother.
Fuck.
Callahan was quiet beside him on the bench for an incredibly awkward thirty seconds, but then he turned, making August flinch, and said, “I’m happy for you guys.”
The lack of a fight was enough to untwist the guilt he had been feeling about messing up the team chemistry. August was lucky that Callahan was such a laid-back guy. He had been thriving while playing on a line with him, and he didn’t want to ruin the new flow they had.
The puck hit the ice, and August had to turn his thoughts away from personal issues to keep his eyes on the play. He was ready to jump back on at any time since his last shift had been short, and he wanted desperately to extend their lead.
Jin leapt the wall the instant the Conclaves regained control, hitting the ice with a boost of speed that left the other guys on his line struggling to keep up.
Both benches exploded into motion, and lines switched in a frantic blur of blades and shouted names.
August and Niko had just enough time to get their feet under them before the play turned, and it was up to them to shut down Jin’s charge.
But Jin was already moving like a damn missile.
He swept through the neutral zone with the puck glued to his stick, cutting between two Bigfoot players so smoothly that no one was able to touch him.
Niko tried to angle him wide, but Jin slipped past and tore into the Bigfoot’s end, driving straight toward Haas faster than the defence could keep up.
He shot the puck, but Niko was too close for him to get a good angle, and Haas snatched it out of the air for the whistle.
Jin didn’t slow down. He kept barreling forward, crowding the crease to spray a wave of ice against Haas’s pads as he skidded to a stop way too close. It was a typical Jin Park dick move, but August had had enough.
His skates cut hard into the ice as he launched himself at Jin, slamming into his shoulder and shoving him backward with enough force to send him stumbling.
“Hey,” August snarled, grabbing Jin’s jersey, “don’t touch my fucking goalie.”
Jin shot back a furious curse in Korean, but he let himself be pushed away, and Haas gave August a quick, grateful tap on the back of his shin pad.
“Gusty! You’re the best, man!”
August gave Haas a nod, but he had to skate away so he could stop Niko from starting a fight with Park as he chased him out of their zone.
They were both hurling profanities, spurred on by the boos and jeers of the crowd, but none of it was loud enough to block out Jin’s shout of, “Just how many boyfriends does August have?!”
August saw the instant regret on Jin’s face the moment the words left his mouth. The three of them were so used to the teasing inside the group chat that the joke would have been brushed off any other time, but in front of his teammates—
“Watch your fucking mouth, Park!” Callahan shouted, sidestepping August’s attempt to grab him and drag him back. “Don’t talk shit if you don’t have the height to back it up.”
“Whoa—” August was still scruffing a cursing Niko as he slid in front of his captain to stop him from crossing the redline. “It’s good, Cap. Park is friends with us. He’s just being a prick like always.”
The whistles were blowing again as more of August’s teammates stood up in his defence, but he kept everyone level-headed enough to get them to the bench and continue the game.
“Did you see his face?” Niko said, keeping his voice quiet so they didn’t draw Callahan’s attention. “Shit. It’s not like you’re in the closet or anything, but Jin is such a fucking airhead when he’s angry.”
August didn’t care. He knew they were the enemy right now, but he was more worried for Jin when he took the ice with Callahan again.
He had seen Jin fight before; he was a scrappy player and had thrown guys that were bigger than him on their asses, but he didn’t want Park losing teeth over a mistake.
And that’s exactly what happened the next time they were on the ice together.
Callahan dropped his gloves, and Park was quick to toss his own before there was an exchange of punches.
It was nearing the end of the third period, and everyone was tired, so the fight didn’t last long.
Park skated away with a bloody lip after grappling Callahan to the ice and pinning him.
The energy of the Ottawa team never bounced back, even after Park won the fight. The Bigfoots walked away with a one-goal win over the Conclaves, and August stumbled down the chute, accepting pats on the back from staff and assistants.
He had to stay long enough to do a crowd salute after earning a star, and he made sure to pass his stick off to a little girl wearing his jersey number before re-entering the chute.
He waved at Niko, who was giving an interview, on his way to the locker room, breathing a sigh of relief when he stepped inside.
They weren’t treating him any differently. No one had taken Jin’s words to heart. Everything was completely normal.
“Hey, guys,” said August, and every gaze in the room snapped to him, halting the conversations. “I’m bisexual, and Park and I are friends. No need to start shit with him next time we play against Ottawa, okay?”
The hum of silence was unnerving, but then Logan pulled his shirt off and groaned. “Good for you, Gusty. We promise we won’t beat your friend up. Is everyone going for drinks, or have we earned an early bedtime tonight?”
A cluster of tired agreements and disagreements answered, and the upbeat mood returned as if nothing happened.
“No one gives shit if you turn into pumpkin after midnight, Snow,” Coach said, smacking August with his clipboard. “Keep playing good hockey, and we’ll look past mice and magic shows, yes?”
August didn’t know what reaction he was expecting, but it hadn’t involved pumpkins of any kind.
Laughter trickled through the group, which increased when Niko came into the room with his brows set in confusion.
“We’re going to see a magic show?”
More laughter erupted, and August joined in, swinging an arm over Niko’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s hit the showers before they start comparing you to Disney characters, too.”
“Huh?”
“Is there a petition we can sign to change Gusty’s name to Gus Gus?” Haas asked the room.
August rolled his eyes as the conversation quickly went downhill. He was about to go to his stall and gear down when one of the equipment managers approached, looking frustrated.
“Snow, Jin Park wants to talk to you, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Thanks, I’ll handle it.” August pushed Niko toward the benches and left while everyone was distracted, nearly plowing into a visibly upset Ottawa player when he walked out the door.
“August, I’m so fucking sorry. I know you’re furious with me, so just punch me in the face and get it over with. Hit me as many times as you want, I—”
August yanked Jin close and pinned him in a choke hold, digging knuckles into his skull as Jin struggled to remain on his skates.
“I’m not mad,” he said, giving the smaller man a playful shake. “I saw how sorry you were after you said it, so no hard feelings. This is a good lesson in verbal filters for you, eh?”
August loosened his grip, and Jin fell away, coughing and rubbing his throat. “You don’t even know—I’ve been close to crying since it happened, and I don’t cry.”
Sure. Jin was totally a big, tough, perfectly composed individual.
“We’re still friends. I’m not mad. Let’s hang out at the All-Star game,” said August. “Now, go gear down and get the fuck out of here. I need to get my damn knee checked and go home.”
Jin was hesitant to leave, shifting his weight from skate to skate like he was trying to work up the courage to say something else. When he finally lifted a hand to wave goodbye, it was in a small, miserable little gesture that didn’t suit his usual fire at all.
“Sorry…again,” he whispered, voice barely carrying over the buzz of the hallway.
August let out a slow breath. The guy looked like he was two seconds away from curling up on the floor and melting into a guilty puddle. He tipped his head in acknowledgment and watched Jin turn and leave, shoulders slumped as he trudged toward the Ottawa locker room.
August scrubbed a hand over his face, groaning. How the hell had he ended up surrounded by all these dramatic, overemotional, hockey gremlins?