Page 81 of Goalie Interference

Chicago. This is a must-win game. Everyone in the locker room knows it. The air in here while we get dressed in our gear is thick with anticipation.

It’s Connor’s first time back here since he was traded to us last season. His first time back since coming out as gay with Gavin. His first time being in the same building as his absolute asshat of a father since he finally stood up to him and showed the world what a complete piece of shit that man is.

He’s probably in his office twirling his mustache like the villain he is right now.

If there ever was a game where I needed some calming words from Nikolai beforehand, it’s this one. But I can’t go back to using him as a crutch. My entire career I never needed him. I shouldn’t need him now. Us Blizzards are four games out of a playoff spot with plenty of season left to go. It’s time for me to reclaim my throne as the King of Shutouts. Hell, that’s why I named my dog what I did.

I sigh as I pull on my jersey. Simply thinking of Nikolai makes my chest ache. I’ve done as Connor suggested; thought about what I wanted with him. And what I want isn’t possible. Not now at least. Not while I have a cup to defend. Not while I’m still trying to figure out how to stand confidently on my own two skates again.

“Alright!” Gavin says, moving to the center of the room. All eyes are on him. Our captain. Our leader. Our protector. “We have two jobs tonight. One is to win this fucking game. The second is to remind the prick in charge of this team that he lost. Not just tonight. But in perpetuity.”

“Who taught you that big word?” Tavish asks with a sideways grin.

Connor rises to his feet and walks towards Gavin. “I did, obviously,” he says, then claps Gavin’s hand and pulls him for a hug.

It’s not their usual intimate embrace. This one is more brothers-in-arms. Warriors. Embodying how we all feel stepping out for this game.

Nikolai

Mickey’s is quite lively tonight, especially considering that we’re not playing. The bar is packed regardless. Filled with patrons wearing Mules jerseys, though I doubt they’re here to watch the same game we are. Blizzards versus Broad Wings—it’s going to be a showdown.

“I’m nervous,” Brandon says. “Is anyone else nervous?”

Yes, I say internally as the rest of my teammates all yell out variations of, “Fuck, no!”

I give Brandon a subtle nod while everyone else is laughing.

“I get it, though,” Ryan says. He slings an arm around Brandon. The three of us, plus Danton and O’Shea, are sharing one of the booths we took over. “They may be our biggest rivals right now after how last season ended, but I would really like to see them win.”

“By them,” Danton says, “I hope you mean the Blizzards.”

“Of course I fucking do,” Ryan says. “Kennedy Sr and his precious Broad Wings deserve to lose this game twenty to one.”

“I see even in your revenge fantasy, my brother doesn’t get to have a shutout,” Brandon says, chewing on his lower lip.

Ryan smirks and shrugs. “They are still our rivals.”

Danton holds up his beer. “Nothing like a good old healthy family feud to keep everyone honest.”

Ryan clinks his beer against Danton’s. “Exactly.”

I’m glad they’re feeling jovial about this, able to find humor and ease. As for me, well, I seem to be adopting Brandon’s pregame ritual of feeling like I might throw up.

“Hey, Baby,” Danton says. “Are your parents coming in tomorrow for Bouchard Bowl?”

“Why do you even ask?” Brandon stares at him. “You know they wouldn’t miss it.”

“They’re already in Chicago,” Ryan says.

I wish I was with them. Even before Brandon joined our team, I had heard about the Bouchards. Momma B and Big Mike are legends of a different kind in the league. They’ve been a part of a lot of players’—past and current—stories. And now I can say that they’re a part of mine.

Well, not that I would say it out loud, not yet at least. I still need to talk things out with Ander. Tell him I made a mistake. Explain to him that I was wrong and that there has to be a way for us to be together, even if it is unconventional.

But isn’t that the wonderful thing about life? No one actually has to follow arbitrary rules when it comes to pursuing their happiness. Ander and I can figure something out. Even if that something simply entails hooking up when we’re in the same city. It doesn’t need to be complicated.

Unfortunately, though, I think I want something complicated. I want there to be an us. And that has the potential to make things messy.

“Hey!” Danton hits me in the ribs with his elbow. “There’s your boy.”