Chapter 4
FOUR
JULIAN
Alex was strong, and…considerate. Even with our differences, he’d made sure I didn’t hurt myself. He took the time to help me get my bearings on this damn rink. I watched him shoot a puck at Gagnon, who caught it out of midair.
These guys were pretty amazing. Not only could they skate better than they walked, but their skills on the ice were sheer poetry. I skated carefully toward the boards and the coaching staff.
“After practice, I’d like to have a word.” Coach Henderson lowered his brows.
“Of course.” We don’t question the coach. Alex’s words rang through my head. Would he want to discuss my lack of skating ability? “We don’t have to wear skates at games, do we?” I chuckled while rubbing my neck.
“No, we stand behind the bench.” He eyed me. “But you’ll be in a press box or a mission control room, depending on where we’re playing.”
“Oh.” And here I’d assumed I’d be at the bench, where the action was.
I still had so much to learn. Crossing my arms on my chest, I backed into the boards and watched the team, chirping at each other while passing the puck, attempting to get it past Gagnon, who might become our new backup goalie if Sampson’s trade went through.
After practice, I met with Coach Henderson in his office while the players cooled down and showered.
Dropping into the chair across from his desk, I perused the room—the dark wood and books on the shelves behind him, the tall plant in the corner.
His office was nicer than the others I’d been in, but then, he’d earned it. “Why did you need to see me?”
After closing the door, he sat in his desk chair and blew out a sharp breath. “Jett Jarvis had a word with me.”
“Okay.” I rocked once. This didn’t sound good, but I’d barely spoken with Jarvis.
Coach peered at me. “Apparently you’re questioning his ability to play with his husband.” His jaw muscles bulged. “I think it was the reason behind Mason Hopkin’s outburst at practice today.”
Fucking Alex. He’d told them what we’d discussed. My gut tensed. “I only questioned Volkov about it when we met. He explained to me about other players in similar situations on national teams.”
“There are and now that you’ve seen them play, you can see it’s not a problem.
It may even be an advantage.” He clasped his hands on his desk.
“Hopkins is…well, he’s an explosive player, both physically and emotionally.
I don’t want this upsetting his game. I assured Jarvis that both of their positions are secure. ”
I nodded. I would confront Alex after this.
He had no business telling them what I’d said.
And here he’d spoken so much about trust. My ass.
Heat crackled across my chest. “Of course, Coach. I’d never want to disrupt the team dynamic you have going here.
I’ll be more careful next time.” And tell that fucker Alex to keep our conversations confidential. He should have known that.
“Good.” He leaned back in his chair with a quick inhale. “You’re dismissed.”
“Thank you.” I rose and stepped out of the room.
Where the hell was Alex? With my pulse thrumming, I stomped through the corridor toward the locker room.
After entering the room, I halted, my gaze locked on Alex, sliding his team joggers up his legs and over his muscled, rounded ass.
Goddamn, the man had a fine ass. “Volkov.”
He twisted and threw me a smirk. “Mercer.” With a glance at Ace, dressing next to him, he slipped his team t-shirt over his head.
“When you’re dressed, we need to talk.” Crossing my arms against my chest, I tapped my toe on the floor, glaring at him. Why was he so damn hot? It made it hard to stay angry with him. But I had to.
“Oh, Volkov is having another secret meeting with the owner’s son.” Mason Hopkins, wearing only his joggers and holding a towel, strutted toward me. “Who are you going after this time? Carlson? How about Ace there, or my damn brother? What’s your problem with your own kind, man?”
I stared at him. What was he talking about? Did he think I was after the queer players? “Nothing. I don’t have a problem with you guys. I am one of you.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Mason tagged me with a towel. “Which is why I don’t understand—”
“Hopkins.” Alex pushed him aside. “Let it go. I’ve got this. It’s not a problem.”
“Yeah, fine, Cap. Anything you say.” With a scoff, he glanced toward the shower, where Jarvis strode out with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Mason, listen to Volkov.” Jarvis gave him a stern look. “I told you we’re good.”
“Come on.” Alex grabbed my elbow and hauled me into the corridor. “You certainly know how to piss off the wrong people.”
“Me? If you had kept your mouth shut, this never would have happened.” I jogged next to him while he shoved me into a conference room and slammed the door shut.
“It doesn’t help that it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you don’t know shit about hockey.” He pushed me against the wall, slapping his hand on it beside my head.
With a flinch, a shiver played up my spine, and my dick plumped, pointing toward my hip. Holy fuck, this was hot. As my chest heaved with deep breaths, I focused on his mouth, so close to mine. What I’d give for more. “But, but I spoke to you in confidence. You weren’t supposed to tell them.”
His hard gaze bored into me. “I warned them. They deserved to know. They’re my best friends and they don’t deserve to be questioned.
About anything. They play their hearts out, game after game, and I’m damn proud to be on the same line with them.
” His face came closer, his gaze shifting, his eyes smoldering and pupils blown.
I had to find my anger again. This was out of hand. “How dare you manhandle me this way.” I shoved his chest, and he stumbled backward. This place was out of control. In a regular workplace, I could have him fired for assault. Was everyone insane?
Grabbing the back of a chair, he stopped himself. “What?” He stared at me. “You’re working with hockey players. Get used to it.”
“Does that mean I have to endure abuse every day? I think not.” I straightened my suit coat, pulling on my sleeves.
“Look, the bottom line here is, I’m trying to get the lay of the land, which means I’ll ask questions.
” I glared at him. “Hard questions. And you need to answer them directly and truthfully.” I raised my chin.
“And not go tattling to your teammates. Our conversations are confidential. I didn’t say it before because I assumed you understood.
But I guess I have to spell it out for you. ”
He gaped at me. “I’m, I’m sorry. But they needed to know.
” He stepped toward me, holding out a hand.
“If you grasped even the basics of hockey, you wouldn’t have asked about them, and I wouldn’t have felt the need to warn them.
You’re Grant Mercer’s son. What you think holds weight, no matter if you know what you’re talking about.
Your father will listen to your opinions. ”
God, I hated this shit. My status always stemmed from who I’d been born to and never a result of my accomplishments.
“I told you, I’m not like that. I’m not reporting back to my father and telling him to trade any of you.
I’m just trying to understand.” Dipping my head, I gazed at the gray carpet for a beat.
Alex still had his shower shoes on. A smirk tugged at my lips.
“You need to fix this with Jarvis and Hopkins.” I gave him a pointed look.
“I need your help to earn the team’s respect. That’ll be your job from now on.”
His left eye twitched. “That’s a big ask.
” With a huff, he twisted, planting his hands on his hips, and paced past the row of chairs tucked into the table.
“Show me you care about this job.” He halted and faced me.
“Study it, live it, and then ask me the right questions. Then I promise I’ll do all I can to get you the respect you deserve. ”
“Fine.” Fucking hell, I’d already turned down Chad for drinks at Velvet Spur so I could watch YouTube videos on hockey. “I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“Good.” He inhaled deeply and strode toward the door. “We meet on Saturday for the United Way event, right?”
“Yes.” I’d given him the details already. “See you there,” I said, leaning my back against the wall. I didn’t want to follow him out. I needed a moment away from him.
With a grumble, he stepped into the hallway, leaving the door open.
With a long sigh, I tipped my head back, staring at the long fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling.
What was up with him? When he’d pinned me against the wall, he’d been angry, yes, but I also got the sense that he wanted me, maybe as much as I’d wanted him.
I was never wrong about these things. There was more to Alexey Volkov than he let on.
I’d parked at the Mesa Community Center and strolled toward the squat facility made of clay-colored brick.
Above the front doors stood an arched awning in a pasty green.
It was Saturday, and the players would meet the United Way kids and their parents.
We had toys to give away, and we’d set up the basketball court for a quick game of field hockey.
As I stopped at the front door, I spotted Alex’s reflection in the glass. He wore his team athletic gear and a backward baseball cap with the team logo. We hadn’t spoken since the outburst at practice. I had kept my promise, though, devouring everything I could find on hockey.
As I opened the door, I turned to him with a smirk. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” He followed me into the facility.
I supposed I could engage in small talk. “Did you have a pleasant Friday night?” Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my slacks, I strolled with him toward the basketball court.
“Yep.” He sighed. “I’m getting my house ready for my ex. She’s coming to stay with me next week.”