Chapter 26
It is two days before New Year’s Eve, and we are at practice.
I tried to convince Cole to stay home and rest, but he absolutely refused, stubborn as always.
So naturally, I am on the ice running drills while he sits on the bench, all bandaged up and hazy from painkillers.
He is pouting at Damian like a child who has been told he cannot have dessert, begging to be let back on the ice.
Damian looks like he is two seconds away from tying him to the bench with skate laces.
This is going to be a long couple of months.
Even after that, I am not sure Cole will be able to play in the playoffs.
If we make it to the playoffs. The team is doing well, but without our right winger at full strength, things feel off-balance.
I keep glancing over at the bench between drills, making sure he is still there, still okay.
He catches me looking and pouts harder, crossing his arms over his chest like that will convince Damian to let him skate.
“Viktor, focus,” Damian barks from the bench, but there is a hint of amusement in his voice. He knows exactly why I am distracted.
I nod once and force myself to pay attention to the play, but my mind keeps drifting back to Cole.
To the bruises that are still fading. To the way he winces when he moves too fast. To the fear that lingers in his eyes when he thinks I am not looking.
I should have been there. I should have protected him better.
The whistle blows again and I skate over to the bench during a water break, stopping in front of him. He looks up at me, still sulking, but there is a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re not playing today,” I say, handing him a water bottle.
“I know,” he grumbles, taking it. “But I can watch. And cheer. Loudly.”
I huff a small laugh despite myself and lean down to press a quick kiss to his forehead, right above the fading bruise. “Be good, little bird.”
He grins up at me, the pout disappearing for a second. “No promises.”
Cole starts making TikToks on the bench.
He is supposed to be resting, recovering, staying off the ice, but instead he is propped up against the boards with his phone out, filming himself doing dramatic commentary on our drills like he is a sports analyst. “And there goes Petrov, looking fine as hell while shutting down the play — wait, is that a new stick tape? Iconic. 10/10 would get bodied by him again.”
I am trying very hard to ignore him. Really. I focus on the puck, on my positioning, on the drill. But every time his voice carries across the ice, loud and playful and completely unrepentant, my concentration slips. Mats skates past me during a line change and smirks.
“Got your hands full there, Petrov? He’s got better commentary than the actual announcers.”
I glare at him, hard enough that he laughs and skates away faster. Elias, thank God, is in full captain mode, trying (and failing) to make Cole shut up. “Cole! You are supposed to be resting, not turning my practice into your personal content farm!”
Cole just grins at him from the bench, his phone still up. “Captain’s orders don’t apply when I’m injured, Curls. This is medicinal. Doctor’s orders. Look it up.”
Elias throws his hands up in defeat, muttering something about “dramatic wingers” as he skates back into the drill.
I cannot help the small twitch at the corner of my mouth.
Even injured, even hazy from the painkillers he keeps trying to avoid, Cole is still the loudest, brightest thing on the ice. My little magpie.
Cole keeps mouthing off from the bench, his voice carrying across the ice like he is commentating a highlight reel instead of sitting injured and sidelined.
“Look at that backcheck, Mats! Almost as good as mine. Almost.” “Jace, you call that a hit? I’ve seen rookies hit harder on their first day.
” The comments keep coming, playful but relentless, and I can see Damian’s patience wearing thin with every word.
Damian turns toward the bench, his voice a low growl that cuts through the entire rink. “Listen here, Hollywood. Unless you want me to send you home, shut the fuck up and sit down.”
Cole’s mouth clicks shut immediately. “Yes, sir,” he says, the words coming out fast and obedient in a way I rarely hear from him. He even sits up straighter, looking properly chastised for once.
Damian, being Damian, does not let it end there.
He takes the frustration out on the rest of us, blowing the whistle and making the next drill harder, faster, and more punishing.
“Again!” he barks, cane thumping against the boards.
“If Hollywood can run his mouth from the bench, you can skate faster than that!”
The team groans but pushes harder, the energy shifting from light-hearted to focused intensity. I skate through the drill, keeping an eye on Cole every chance I get. He is sitting quietly now, arms crossed, but there is a small, satisfied smirk on his face like he knows exactly what he did.
At the end of practice, Zara joins us in the locker room. One look at her face and I know exactly what is going to happen.
“Someone else got their hands on the tape,” she says as she holds up her tablet. “The elevator in Halifax. Cole on his knees. It’s out there. Circulating. We are in full damage control mode.”
Cole, still sitting on the bench, makes dreamy eyes at the memory, a small, dopey smile tugging at his lips like he is reliving every second of it.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking.
The memory is vivid — his mouth, the risk, the way he looked up at me like he loved every dangerous second.
I am trying very hard not to react, but the corner of my mouth twitches anyway.
Damian is glaring at me like I personally betrayed him. Elias is blushing so hard he is almost on fire, staring at the floor like he wishes it would swallow him whole. The rest of the team is gaping at Cole and me, the silence broken only by Shane’s low whistle and a few muttered “holy shits.”
Zara rubs her temples. “We are spinning this as a private moment that was illegally obtained. But the optics — a player on his knees in an elevator — are not great. Especially with the rumors already swirling about you two.”
Cole, still high on the painkillers and zero shame, just leans back and grins. “It was a good moment though. Right, Vik?”
I do not answer. I just look at him, the memory making heat curl low in my stomach despite the situation. This is going to be a nightmare for PR.
Jace, the bold little rookie, immediately pipes up. “Can I see the tape?”
Zara throws a rolled-up towel at his head without missing a beat. It hits him square in the face with a soft thwack. “No, you cannot see the tape, you absolute child.”
Damian rubs his temple, looking exhausted. “What’s the damage?”
Zara starts listing the rumors, her voice clipped and professional.
“The narrative has shifted. Earlier in the season it was Cole with his little boy toy — Alex. Now it’s Cole on his knees for Viktor Petrov.
The comments are… colorful. Some are calling it a team scandal, others are turning it into conspiracy theories about why Cole disappeared for a week and a half.
The optics are not great, especially with the punch from earlier in the season still floating around. ”
Cole gasps, genuinely offended, eyes wide. “Are they calling me a whore?!”
Mats snorts loudly from his stall, trying and failing to hide his laughter behind his hand.
The rest of the team is doing a poor job of pretending they are not listening, shoulders shaking with suppressed chuckles.
I keep my face neutral, but I am also failing at it.
Cole looks adorably outraged, sitting there like he is ready to fight the entire internet.
Zara pinches the bridge of her nose. “We need a statement. Soon. Preferably one that does not involve anyone on their knees in an elevator.”
Cole crosses his arms, still sulking. “I stand by my performance. Five stars. Would recommend.”
Zara looks at all of us with that sharp, no-nonsense expression she gets when the media is about to eat us alive. “I want Damian, Viktor, and Cole in Damian’s office in fifteen minutes for that statement draft. We need to get ahead of this before it spirals any further.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cole giggles, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just got caught on tape.
Zara glares at him, then turns to me. “Is he high?”
I make a small hand gesture with my thumb and forefinger, indicating ‘a little.’ Zara rubs her temples like we are personally aging her ten years. “Great. Just great. Fifteen minutes, gentlemen. Try to keep him conscious until then.”
She turns on her heel and walks out, muttering something about “hockey players and their inability to keep it in their pants.” The locker room is quiet for half a second before it erupts again — Shane is howling with laughter, Elias is trying to look professional while clearly dying inside, and Mats is grinning like he just won the lottery.
Cole is still giggling to himself, leaning back against the wall with that dreamy, medicated smile. I walk over and gently help him stand, keeping a steady hand on his back as he sways a little. “Come on, soroka. Let’s get this over with.”
He leans into me, still grinning. “You gonna hold my hand in the meeting, big guy?”
I sigh, but I do not let go of him as we head toward Damian’s office.
Zara leans against the desk with her arms crossed. “The best move is to stay low for a bit. No public appearances as a couple. No more… incidents. Let the rumors die down naturally while we control the narrative with a short, professional statement.”
Cole immediately shakes his head, stubborn as ever. “No way. I’m not hiding. I’m not staying low. People already know something is going on. I’m not pretending Viktor is just my teammate. That’s bullshit.”