17. Chapter 17 #4
Tina, the head of PR for the Bandits, had just showed up and was directing one of her minions to take pictures of the three-brother embrace, muttering the whole time about what a sensation it was going to be, all three of them on one team together.
“Fair,” Max agreed with a slight chuckle. “Well, let’s go get prepped for the storm.”
And Max wasn’t wrong. Neither was Hank.
The first game was a cross between a circus and a storm. Tina was everywhere she could be, and if it wasn’t her, it was one of her assistants, filming fucking everything, even in places where they wouldn’t normally be allowed, like the locker room before the game.
“Fucking ridiculous,” Danny muttered as he walked by Hank’s stall, glancing over to where Tina was hosting practically an entire photoshoot with Avery putting on his gear and his Bandits jersey for the first time.
“At least if we have to deal with all this, he’s a good fucking player,” Jonesy said.
Danny rolled his eyes.
“You just don’t like it when anyone takes all the attention away from you,” Dom pointed out dryly. He stretched out his legs. Getting warm even though it was Pavs’ turn in goal tonight.
“Annoying,” Danny retorted.
“You’re annoying,” Ethan said, stopping in front of Hank, who glanced up at him.
“Though,” he added, glancing back at the photoshoot still happening, “that’s annoying, too.”
“How’s he doing with it?”
“I think overwhelmed,” Ethan confessed. “Quieter, even, than normal. Maybe he’s in shock. This morning he was the Mavs’ alternate captain and was going to play in Minnesota, and now tonight, he’s in a Bandits’ uniform and he’s with us.”
“It’s gonna be fine,” Hank promised.
Even though that wasn’t really something he could promise. He just wanted the crease of worry between Ethan’s brows to smooth out.
“We’ll see,” Ethan said, shooting Avery a concerned look from under his lashes.
And despite Avery being a fairly chill, laid-back person, at least off the ice, the game itself was even crazier than Hank had expected. Every time Avery went on for a shift or touched the puck, the whole crowd went wild.
He’d heard Tina ask Silas if there was any chance he could get all three Barnes on the ice at the same time, and he’d just shot her an incredulous look before giving a short, sharp bark of, “No.”
As expected, Silas had put Avery with Jonesy, Hank still with Keegan.
He didn’t mind playing with Benny—he was slower and older but played with a stout-ish defense that left Hank free to occasionally play more offensively.
He wasn’t surprised that Silas had kept him with Benny, though. Jonesy was the most senior, best d-man on the team—or he had been, before the Bandits had traded for Avery—and he should be playing with the newest addition.
At least, Hank thought as he went in between the first and second intermission, Niko wasn’t around to fuck up anymore.
He was someone else’s problem, now.
They were up 1–0 at the end of the second period, and Max made a few comments about making sure to keep their defense tight and to work the puck more in their own offensive zone.
Charlie agreed, and Hank watched as Avery opened his mouth, like he was too used to being part of a vocal group that would speak up, but before he did say anything, he snapped it shut again.
“You have anything to add, V?” Max said, turning to him.
“How could he?” Danny muttered under his breath. “He’s been in New York less than ten hours.”
Gabby elbowed him hard.
“But I’m sure that the greatest defensive mind of our generation has a lot of insight to share anyway,” Danny said sweetly.
“Not really,” Avery said. “Just watch the puck if we’re pushing into the offensive zone. A bad turnover would be hard to fight against, right now. And we don’t want to give up a goal now.”
“Nope,” Max agreed. He leaned over Charlie and patted Avery on the arm. “Good point.”
Hank thought he heard Danny say something like, “is it though?” under his breath.
And frankly that was unfair—but then, Max was trying really hard to walk a very fine line of being welcoming to Avery, while still listening to his leadership, while retaining his own leadership in the room.
Hank had to give Max a lot of credit, because that was a fucking lot to ask, especially for someone for whom English wasn’t even their first language.
He gave Max even more credit, because even though the game was, no lie, an actual fucking circus, every time Charlie and Avery or Ethan and Avery were on the ice together, the crowd going absolutely nuts, they did pull out the win. 2–0, with Charlie getting an empty-net goal in the last minute.
There was brief talk in the locker room about going out afterwards, to celebrate the win and Avery joining the team, but Avery spoke up and claimed exhaustion, which . . . fair.
Hank let the three brothers head back to the apartment in Charlie’s car, and he caught a ride with Max.
“That was good,” Hank said as Max pulled out onto the freeway.
“What was good?” Max asked, glancing over at him.
“It was a total fucking mess today. Insane, even more insane than I thought it’d be and you handled it great.”
“Well.” Max’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. “I’m trying.”
“Not gonna be easy.”
“But he’s a good addition,” Max claimed softly. “And good for Charlie, no matter how he’s freaking out about it.”
“He’ll see that it’s good too—Charlie just needs a whole bunch of evidence he can analyze before he’ll decide if something’s working or not working,” Hank said.
Max sighed heavily. “You are not wrong. One of his best parts—and one of his worst, too.”
“Oh, are we talking about Charlie’s worst parts?” Hank asked archly, raising an eyebrow.
Max flushed. “Not in his hearing, no.”
“I didn’t think so,” Hank said, and that was the closest he’d gotten—the closest he’d ever get—to calling Max on his whole thing with Barney.
Max was a great captain and a really fucking good hockey player. He’d earned the right to be weird about one of the Barnes brothers if he wanted to be. Hank understood, because he was plenty fucking weird about his own Barnes brother.