Chapter 29
Nikolai
My first goal of the season goes in so quickly that for half a second, I think I missed it. Bated breath for the tiniest of
moments, and then the arena explodes with noise from the crowd and, even better, the horn. I barely have time to turn before
I crash into the boards with Cooper and Mickey and the rest of the guys, all of them hollering.
“Fucking A!” Cooper shouts, pounding on my chest. “That was sweet, dude!”
I wrap my arm around him. “Your assist!”
It’s rare that you come onto the ice for a fresh shift as a defenseman and find your partner passing you the puck in perfect
position to get a shot off, but I turned UMass’s lapse in concentration into a point. We’re up 4-1 now, with only a few minutes
to go in the last period.
A couple feet away, John stands with two of my former teammates, looking at our impromptu huddle. He nods at me before skating
to the UMass bench. We spoke briefly before the game for the first time in weeks, and it was stilted, strange, even though
we made dinner plans.
Something inside me pinches tightly, but only for a moment. It can’t banish the adrenaline rushing through my veins. I usually
score a good number of goals each season, on the higher end for a defenseman, and not having one yet was bugging me. Cooper
got one when we played Vermont last week, after all; I couldn’t let myself get too far off-pace.
Before the game resumes, I look behind the net. Just once. I’ve been avoiding it all night, for my sanity, but I’ve been aware of Isabelle all the same. She’s standing next to Penny, her body pressed against the glass like she wishes she could melt right through it. Her smile is so wide, it takes my breath away. It’s lucky I scored the goal this period instead of last, when our net was on the other end of the ice.
I wish more than anything that I could skate over, acknowledge her somehow, but I restrain myself. It’s not just a matter
of Cooper not noticing. She’s with her parents and Sebastian, too.
Aaron’s able to block the last-ditch efforts by UMass to get another goal or two in before the buzzer, and I leave the ice
sweaty and grinning. I spot John before he can head into the visiting locker room.
“Hey, man.” I give him a thump on the back. “Wanted to catch you before I went in.”
“Nikolai,” he says, taking a step back. “Good game.”
“Thanks. You too.”
He just gives me a tight smile.
“For dinner, I have this great burger place picked out. Their specialty is this bacon—”
“I actually think we’re heading back to campus,” he interrupts.
“Oh. Tonight, you mean?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
I blink, tapping my stick against the floor. “That’s... that’s fine. We can talk some other time.”
“Sure.” He claps me on the shoulder briefly before catching up with the rest of his team. Even though they lost, they look
animated, chatting with each other—and not one of them gives me half a glance.
I tug off my helmet. Sweat drips from my temple down the side of my face. I shove my hair back, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach. Where’s Isabelle? Even a glimpse of her before I head into the locker room would be enough to settle the discomfort.
I spot her purple sweater, her dark hair threaded with matching ribbon. Her laughter is a beacon, rising above the other noise
in the tunnel. She spots me, quirking her lips in a tiny smile. I hope like hell that she won her match earlier.
As I watch, Cooper and Penny join her and the rest of the family. Sebastian says something to Cooper, who gives him a playful
shove. All of them laugh. It must be nice to have family at your games. Mom’s a nonstarter, and Cricket’s usually too busy
to make the trip. I can’t imagine Grandfather setting foot in this building, let alone watching an entire hockey game.
As if sensing my lingering gaze, Cooper gestures to me. “Hey, Nik. Come meet my parents.”
I settle into my chair, resisting the urge to put my arm around the back of Isabelle’s. Her mother invited me to dinner with
the family as soon as she heard my plans with my old teammates fell through. I should have made up an excuse not to come,
but I have the sense that it’s hard to say no to Sandra Callahan when she’s made a decision.
Reminds me of Isabelle. Her fingers brush mine underneath the table for the briefest moment before retreating.
I suppress a shiver. I shouldn’t have sat next to her, either, but Penny is busy hanging over Cooper, and Sebastian’s girlfriend
met us at the restaurant, so I had limited options. And besides, I’m happy to be celebrating with her; she won her match earlier
while playing setter. It took all of my self-control not to embrace her the moment she shared the news with Cooper.
I absolutely shouldn’t trace the seam of her jeans underneath the table. In fact, I should scoot my chair further away.
Richard Callahan looks up from the wine list, his gaze lingering on me. If I wasn’t sure before where Isabelle got her eyes from, now there’s no doubt. “That was an excellent goal.”
“A little late, but appreciated anyway,” Cooper says, smirking at me from across the table.
I snort at Cooper. “Thank you, sir.”
“It must have been strange, playing your old team,” Penny says.
The sting of John’s rejection hasn’t gone away, but at the same time, things feel easy with my current team. Since the team
formal, I’ve been more relaxed. The locker room celebration, the silly Turkey trophy, the joint interview Cooper and I gave
since the game was televised—none of it was a hardship. I didn’t wish I was boarding the bus back to Massachusetts.
“Yeah,” I say. “But I’ve settled into the McKee system by now.”
“You’re all my dad talks about,” she says. She kisses Cooper’s cheek. “Well, both of you. He’s going to be so sad when you’re
in the NHL.”
“The Sharks still hold your rights, yes?” Richard asks.
“Yes, sir. But they haven’t come to collect yet.”
Isabelle stiffens slightly, even though she’s talking to Mia. I haven’t told her about my deal with Grandfather, and if I
tried, I don’t think she’d understand. How could she, with a family that goes out to dinner together to celebrate wins?
“And what does your grandfather think of this?” Richard asks. “I’ve met him a few times. I’ve gotten the sense that sports
aren’t exactly within his... scope of interest.”
“You’re not far off the mark,” I admit.
“Your mother certainly seemed proud, when I ran into her the other day,” Sandra says.
I blink. I’m sure Sandra talks about Isabelle and her brothers all the time, but I’m a constant reminder of the part of my mother’s life that she wishes she could forget. I can’t imagine her casually bringing me up in conversation.
“I’m so glad that the summer worked out for Izzy,” Sandra continues. “The business your mother built after her divorce—but
I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that.”
“It’s fine. I was thirteen.”
“I’ve had four thirteen-year-olds. It’s not an easy age.”
“Mom,” Isabelle says. Her fingers find mine again.
I squeeze hers, grateful for the support, even if she doesn’t know the whole picture. My mother might’ve been able to seamlessly
fall back into the world she grew up in—a world Isabelle shares a slice of—but I don’t have that option. Even next year, working
whatever job Grandfather thinks will suit me, I’ll be an outsider. You can bring a cat in from the cold and give it a bed,
but that doesn’t do anything about the claws.
“It’s a shame that your father’s NHL career wasn’t longer,” Richard says. “I know plenty of men who didn’t get what they deserved
from their sport. It can be brutal.”
“He preferred the KHL anyway.” I haven’t had to fall back on that lie in a while. I’m not sure how much of a lie it is anymore,
anyway. The last call we had, he told me to visit him for Новый год , the New Year, since I didn’t make plans to see him over Thanksgiving break. I felt like punching something after I hung
up, panic clawing at my throat.
“And you have no interest in going back?”
Cooper snorts. “Dad, he’s ranked higher than me. His talents would be wasted in the KHL.”
“You know we basically have the same rank. And I have no intentions of setting foot in Russia again.” A moment passes, and
then I realize what I just said. Fuck. “I mean, I was born here. I did live in Russia for a long time, but my home is here
now.”
I cover Isabelle’s hand with my own, nails digging into her jeans. She turns to me, under the guise of listening, but I catch the worry in her expression. There and gone in a blink. My breath hitches. I’m breaching a space I don’t belong in, no matter how friendly her parents are or how easy things have become with Cooper. I’m the piece that doesn’t fit, and if Isabelle hasn’t started to realize that before, she definitely will now.
“Do you think in Russian?” Mia asks, tilting her head to the side. “If you were young when you moved there?”
“Usually. Sometimes English slips in, or German.”
“German?” Isabelle says.
“Thanks to an overly enthusiastic tutor at my first American school. My grandfather—” I stop, feeling my face flush. “He assumed
I wouldn’t be able to speak English fluently, when I arrived. The tutor was pleasantly surprised, and taught me German instead.”
I don’t know why I just admitted that; I’d nearly forgotten about it until now. There’s a beat, and then—
“Cooper failed French,” Sebastian says with a grin. “Twice.”
Cooper sighs, long-suffering. “Why write the words like that if you don’t pronounce half the letters?”
“I think Jean would be able to answer that question better,” I say.
“He does speak French? Prick. He pretended not to when I needed help with my homework.”
The tension in my chest eases. When did it become this easy? Homework in the team lounge, trash-talking during video games,
drawing up drills for the guys to work on, and now this, dinner with Cooper’s family. Dinner with Isabelle’s family. Part of me wants to wrench my hand away from hers. But another part—a louder part—wishes I could kiss her here, at
the table. She deserves that, and moreover, I want it.
“It sounds like both German and French could be useful, where you’re going,” Isabelle says, gesturing to Sebastian and Mia with her wineglass. I don’t know whether she’s changing the conversation on purpose, but either way, I appreciate it. “Did you find housing yet?”