Chapter 22
Ican feel Viktor pulling away again.
It's subtle — the way his hand leaves mine a little sooner than it should when we park, the way his shoulders tense just slightly as we walk up to Damian and Elias’s house, the way his eyes keep drifting somewhere distant even when I try to catch them.
After everything that happened at his mother’s place, I can feel him retreating back behind those old walls.
It makes my chest ache in a way I don't know how to fix.
I want to grab him and hold on tight, to tell him I am not going anywhere, but I don't know if he will let me right now.
Elias opens the door wide before we even reach the porch, already fussing over everyone like a golden retriever on a mission.
“You’re here! Come in, come in, it’s freezing out there!
Marina, it is so good to finally meet you — Viktor has told us so much.
Cole, you look like you need hot chocolate immediately.
Lena, hi! Mats and Shane are already here causing trouble in the kitchen. ”
He pulls Viktor’s mother into a gentle hug, then does the same to Lena, and wraps me in one of those bone-crushing best-friend hugs that always makes me feel a little more grounded.
Viktor gets a clap on the shoulder and a knowing look, but Elias doesn't push.
He never does when he senses something is off.
Inside, the house smells like cinnamon, pine, and whatever amazing thing Damian is cooking. Shane and Mats are already in the living room, arguing loudly about something while music plays in the background. Shane spots us first and immediately lights up.
“Hollywood! Petrov! You made it without getting murdered by Zara! Miracle of Christmas!”
I force a grin, but my eyes keep drifting back to Viktor, who is quietly introducing his mother to everyone with that careful, protective energy he gets when he is worried.
I peel myself away from Viktor’s side — mostly because I need something to do with my hands before I start spiraling again — and go help Elias set the table.
We pass Damian in the kitchen, who is still cooking with that intense focus he brings to everything.
He grunts in greeting, not even looking up from the stove.
“Hi, Coach,” I grin at him, grabbing a stack of plates from the counter.
Damian just grunts again, the corner of his mouth twitching like he is fighting a smile.
Elias rolls his eyes fondly at his husband and keeps moving, chatting about everything and nothing as we set the long dining table.
The familiarity of it helps a little. The clink of plates, the smell of food, Elias’s constant stream of commentary — it feels like home.
In the next five minutes the rest of the team trickles in, and the house goes from cozy to gloriously loud.
Shane is already telling some ridiculous story at full volume, Mats is laughing, the rookies are wide-eyed and trying to keep up.
Viktor has found a quiet corner with Roman and his mother, the three of them talking softly in Russian.
I watch them for a second, my heart doing that stupid flip it always does when I see him relaxed like that, then I stick myself firmly to Elias’s side like a barnacle.
Elias, Jace, and I end up making a couple of quick TikToks in the living room — silly ones with the Christmas lights in the background, Jace doing some ridiculous dance move that makes us all lose it. I post one before I can overthink it, grinning at the screen as the likes start coming in.
Right after I hit post, Elias pulls me closer, arm slung around my shoulders in that easy way of his. “You good, Hollywood?” he asks.
I consider telling him. Really telling him — about Viktor’s father showing up, about the panic, about how I can feel Viktor pulling away again even though he is right here in the same house.
But it is Christmas Eve. I don't want to ruin dinner for everyone.
So I flash him my best Hollywood grin instead.
“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be okay, Curls?” I say, bumping my shoulder against his.
Elias studies me for a second, but he lets it go with a small nod and a squeeze to my shoulder. “Alright. But I’m here if you need to talk. Always.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, and lean into him for just a second longer. Across the room, Viktor glances over at me, our eyes meeting for a brief moment before he looks away again. The ache in my chest gets a little sharper.
Dinner starts and the house explodes into beautiful, glorious noise again, just the way I like it.
The kind of loud that fills every corner and makes my own head shut the fuck up for a little while.
Plates are passed, food is piled high, stories are told at full volume, and laughter bounces off every wall.
It's perfect chaos. Exactly what I needed.
Elias, Shane, a couple of the rookies, and I end up at one end of the long table playing drinking games like the responsible adults we definitely are not.
Shane is already three shots in and making up ridiculous rules that have us all dying laughing.
“If you score on your own goalie in the next game, you drink twice!” he declares, and Elias nearly spits out his drink.
I'm grinning so hard my cheeks hurt, slamming my glass down and chirping right back at them.
Across the room, near the big Christmas tree, Damian, Viktor, and Marina are quietly setting up the presents.
I catch glimpses of them between laughs — Viktor carefully placing boxes, his mother arranging cookies on a plate, Damian saying something low that makes both of them nod.
Viktor looks… calmer there. Steady. But every time our eyes meet across the room, that little pull in my chest tightens again.
I force myself to focus back on the game, laughing louder than necessary when Jace loses another round and has to take a shot.
The rookies are wide-eyed and delighted to be included, and Shane is in full chaos gremlin mode.
It helps. The noise helps. But every few minutes my eyes drift back to Viktor, watching the way he moves around his mother with that careful, protective energy, and the worry settles heavier in my gut.
We get drunk enough that the line between chaos and total anarchy completely disappears.
Elias, already three drinks deep and feeling festive, starts full-on flirting with Damian right there at the table — batting his lashes, calling him “Coach” in that sultry voice he knows drives Damian insane, leaning into his husband’s space.
“You know, babe, you look really hot when you’re trying to be all stern and responsible… ”
Damian sighs, but there is a fond twitch at the corner of his mouth. He lasts about thirty seconds before he caves, pushing his chair back and joining the game with a gruff, “Fine. But if any of you idiots puke on my floor, you’re cleaning it up.”
The game somehow turns into Truth or Dare within two rounds. Shane is the one who suggests it, of course, his eyes sparkling with pure evil as he points at Elias. “Truth or dare, Captain?”
Elias grins like a menace. “Dare.”
And just like that, the night descends into beautiful, ridiculous madness.
Dares get increasingly stupid — Jace has to do his best impression of Damian yelling at us during practice, Mats has to sing a Christmas song in the worst Russian accent he can manage, and I end up having to call Zara and tell her I love her in the most dramatic way possible while trying not to laugh.
Truths get messier too, secrets and embarrassing stories spilling out between shots and laughter.
Viktor is still sitting a little ways away with his mother and Roman, but every time I look over, his eyes are on me.
I keep grinning at him, trying to pull him into the chaos with just a look, but I can still feel that small distance between us.
It makes my chest ache even through the warm buzz of alcohol.
Elias, noticing me glancing over again, leans in close during a lull in the game. “You sure you’re good, Hollywood?” he asks, the captain voice slipping through the drunk haze for a second.
I flash him a bright grin, the same one I always use when I don't want to talk about it. “Never better, Curls. Now dare me to do something stupid before Shane makes me call Zara again.”
He laughs, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. I don’t blame him. I am not sure I believe myself right now either. He turns to me with that feral grin and says, “Cole. Truth or dare.”
I already know I am in trouble. “Dare.”
His eyebrow shoots up. “Go kiss Viktor. Right now. In front of everyone.”
I freeze. “Curls…”
Elias just raises that damn eyebrow higher, the one that says you asked for this. I sigh, dramatic and defeated, and push my chair back. “Fine.”
The walk across the room feels longer than it should.
Viktor is still over by the tree with his mother and Roman.
I stop in front of them, heart hammering, and turn to Marina first, giving her my best apologetic pout.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I say, cheeks already burning. Then I lean down and kiss Viktor.
He freezes for a split second — I feel it in the way his shoulders tense under my hand — but then he kisses me back, soft and quick, like he can't help himself.
It's over too fast. He breaks it first, turning back to his mother and Roman like nothing happened, continuing their conversation as if I had not just kissed him in front of half the team.
Marina looks up at me, frowning a little, then at her son. She is clearly picking up on the tension.
I drop into the chair next to Elias, ignoring the way my chest aches, and immediately point at Mats. “Truth or dare.”
Mats startles, nearly spilling his drink. “Uh… dare?”
I lean forward, smirking. “Go steal the vodka Viktor brought. It’s currently sitting between the only three Russians in the house.”