Page 54 of Goalie Interference

“You’re not exactly denying it.”

“I am not gay,” I say. Though the words sound false as they stick to my tongue with a bitter aftertaste.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said any of that. You’re right. I’m your agent. I have no business talking to you about these things.”

“Is okay,” I say, feeling guilty. She was only trying to be my friend, which to be honest, is how I prefer her over being my agent. As my agent, she fumbles my contract negotiations, keeps me in the dark, and makes moves about my future to serve her own. As my friend, as the Sofia I knew before all this started, she’s always cared. She’s always been able to see me. She’s always taken a moment to listen when I needed an ear. I like that version of her. Unfortunately, now I only get a rare glimpse.

“I’ll let you go,” she says, sounding sad. “And I’ll be in touch after I talk with the Mules. But please trust me on this, Nikolai, it’s all going to work out.”

“Are you saying that as my friend, or as my agent?”

“Both,” she says with complete sincerity. “I’ll call you in a few days.”

“Alright. Thank you, Sofia.”

“Oh, and Nikolai. If what I said is true, you can tell me, you know?”

“I know. But there is nothing to tell.” Not now anyway. If there was even an ice hockey rink’s chance in hell that Ander reciprocated my feelings, I can reconsider my stance then. But for now, the point is moot.

Ander

Despite being known as Alaska’s angriest export, Gavin is a ton of fun when he wants to be. Even before Connor softened him up. For a guy who doesn’t drink, he’s always known how to throw a party.

Like right now. He has managed to get the entire team to come out and celebrate our win.

“Your shutout!” he says into my ear as he slings his arm around my shoulder. His bottle of root beer bangs against my collarbone. Connor is tucked underneath his other arm, sitting beside him in the booth that we’re all sharing.

I wonder how he knew about this place. It’s more of a lounge than a club. The vibe is chill, they have delicious small bites to eat—which is great because I can never satisfy my appetite after a game—and there’s plenty of space for all of us to spread out and enjoy the night.

“Seriously,” Gavin continues. “It has to feel so good to have gotten the monkey off your back.”

“Incredible,” I say, then take a sip of my beer. I put it back down on the table in front of us. It’s not doing the trick for me right now, so I wave the cocktail waitress over.

“Can I get you something, hun?” she asks, bending forward at the waist and resting her hand on the booth’s seat so she can hear me better.

“Any chance you have some good Russian vodka?” I wish I could remember what Nikolai brought over to Brandon and Ryan’s that night before the season started. It was the smoothest thing I had ever drunk. I loved the way it felt on my tongue and slid down my throat when I swallowed.

“I can ask the bartender what he recommends,” she says with an eager smile on her face. She’s clearly good at her job, trying to accommodate me.

“That would be great.” I beam.

“Be right back,” she says, rolling her lips between her teeth.

“I’ll be here!” I say then turn my attention back to Gavin and Connor who are sharing a look.

“That was interesting,” Tavish says, plopping down onto the seat beside me.

“What was interesting?” I ask, looking around. Nothing appears to be any different than what it was. My teammates are all still milling around, having drinks, eating food, joking and jostling each other. The atmosphere around all of us is quite jovial. Alive and light for the first time this season.

I look back at Tavish. “Did I miss something?”

“Only the point as per usual,” he says, smirking.

“Tavs,” Connor and Gavin say together in matching warning tones.

I look between the three of them. “What the fuck is going on with you guys?”

“Nothing,” they all say together.