Suckerpunch

by Elyse Springer

  “It’s late,” Sasha repeated. “Why don’t you crash here and we can have breakfast and catch up in the morning.”

  “Or,” Eddie said, sitting up straight and kicking his feet off the chair with loud thumps, “we can talk now. You’ve been ignoring me, Sasha.”

  “I haven’t.” Sasha’s response was immediate. “We were on a road trip for eleven days, Ed. On the East Coast, with the crazy time difference. And things were hectic, playing so many games and traveling so much. I’m sorry that I didn’t respond to your texts, but I was honestly just so busy.”

  Ed twisted the cap off the bottle and poured himself another one. His hand was unsteady, a sure sign that he’d had more than a couple.

  He must still be on painkillers too, Sasha realized with a start. That much alcohol, combined with the medication, couldn’t possibly be a healthy combination.

  “Or maybe you were too busy making a new friend.”

  Fuck. Someone must have told Ed about Coach’s decision to force him and Alex to get along. Or maybe he’d seen it in the team’s group chat, which Sasha rarely looked at. Either way, it was clear that Ed was displeased.

  His mind raced to defuse the situation. “It was just Rico trying to force team bonding. You know how he is. Honestly, Fanning barely even talked to me the entire trip. He spent most of the time on the phone with his girlfriend, or with Carts.”

  Ed threw back the shot he’d poured, like it was water. Sasha hid a wince at the sight of his expensive imported vodka being wasted.

  “I saw that he won his game too.” Ed sneered, setting the empty glass down. “He got lucky. Buffalo had a bad night.”

  “Yeah, Ed, I know,” Sasha said. “Everyone knows this. It means nothing.”

  Of course, Coach hadn’t agreed. He’d been so pleased with Alex’s play against Buffalo that rumor had it he was considering starting Alex again sooner rather than later. But Ed clearly didn’t know that yet, and Sasha wasn’t about to volunteer that bit of information.

  “Look, Eddie, I really need to go to sleep. And you do as well, I think. The guest room downstairs is made up; why don’t you crash here instead of driving home tonight.”

  “Can’t drive home,” Ed responded. He poured himself yet another drink. “They took my license, Sasha. Fuckers won’t even let me drive anymore. I had to take a goddamn Uber to get here.”

  Now that he thought about it, Sasha hadn’t seen any car parked out front. And it made sense, but of course it would piss Ed off. No surprise that they would take away his license after a second DUI.

  “Even more reason for you to stay here, then,” he said calmly. “We’ll go to that breakfast place you like in the morning, my treat, okay?”

  Ed stared down into his glass but didn’t drink it yet. “Yeah, fine. And we gotta talk about the trial soon.”

  “Sure, Eddie,” Sasha said. “But sleep first.”

  Finally, Eddie knocked back the drink and stood up, abandoning the almost-empty bottle and glass as he walked unsteadily toward the kitchen door. He brushed past Sasha, heading for the guest room where he’d crashed several times before over the last few years. Sasha watched him go, making sure he got all the way to the bedroom, then sighed and stepped into the kitchen to clean up the mess. It wouldn’t do to have Misha see the vodka bottle in the morning and start asking questions.

  Then, finally, he could give in to his own exhaustion. Sasha glanced at the guest room door one last time, then carried himself up the stairs and to his own bed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Seattle Sports News (@SeattleSportsNews)

  Very optional practice for the Cascades this afternoon. On the ice are Engel, Klausman, Volkov, Oettenger, Merkley, Petrov, Johnson, and Fanning.

  SASHA HADN’T planned to go to practice less than twelve hours after arriving back in Seattle, especially since Coach had informed them that the practice was completely optional. But, then, he hadn’t expected to be stuck with Ed’s booze-heavy snores drifting out across the ground floor of his house all morning as his friend slept well past any semblance of a breakfast hour.

  Knowing that Ed was sleeping off the better half of a bottle of expensive vodka made guilt pool in Sasha’s stomach. There was something wrong with the man currently passed out in his guest room, but examining it too closely wasn’t something he was emotionally prepared to handle.

  So by the time noon rolled around, Sasha was desperate to get out of the house. He left a note on the counter, then dragged a sleepy, protesting Misha out the door.

  And if he hid the vodka and the last of a twelve-pack of beer in the back of the pantry, well… it was only reasonable. С глаз долой, из сердца вон, as his mother always said; if Ed couldn’t find it, maybe he wouldn’t think about it.

  Misha fled as soon as they got to the arena, heading straight for the player’s lounge and the coffee machine located there. Sasha watched him go with amusement—and not a little sympathy—before heading in the opposite direction to the locker room.

  The few guys present were mostly older, the ones who were married and had kids who would have woken them up early regardless of their 2:00 a.m. arrival.

  But there was one man Sasha hadn’t expected to see.

  “Hey, you’re here.” Alex was already dressed in full pads, looking more awake and cheerful than everyone else in the room put together. “Didn’t think you’d be coming in.”

  “I could say the same about you,” Sasha replied.

  But the Alex before him right now was not the man who had slept on his shoulder only the night before, looking frail and exhausted. The difference was startling. Now Alex was bursting with energy, clearly well-rested, and flushed a healthy shade of pink as he looked up at Sasha. His smile was bright, expression open and eager. He was practically glowing, and Sasha couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight.

  Like sunlight. It wasn’t the first time he’d made the comparison, but never had it been truer than now.

  They separated for practice, Sasha working with Otter and Johnson, but he couldn’t stop looking over at Alex every time he paused for a drink of water or to regroup on a drill.

  This was the Alex from the Buffalo game: a brick wall in net, laughter and chirps carrying across the ice as he stopped pucks and showed off with big, flashy saves.

  How did I not see this before? He’d spent so much time trying to hate Alex that he’d ignored the raw talent and incredible energy contained in the lanky, muscular body.

  Alex found him after practice, both of them showered and changed back into comfortable sweats. Misha had escaped earlier, scowling at Sasha over another cup of coffee and declaring that he was done practicing for the day and was going to play video games with Bayer all afternoon. So it was just the two of them, Sasha following Alex to the parking garage.

  He paused when he caught sight of a gorgeous blue truck ahead of them.

  “That’s yours?”

  Alex turned to follow his line of sight. “The Chevy? Yeah, that’s Betsy.” He blushed a little, delightfully embarrassed as he ducked his head. It made Sasha want to do incredibly inappropriate things to him, possibly in the flatbed of that truck.

  “It’s beautiful. You restore her yourself?”

  “Yeah. I mean, she was already in really good condition when I bought her a few years ago. I’ve tried to stick to factory original parts where I could, but some things had to get upgraded, like the radio and air-conditioning.” Alex looked at the truck with pride, beaming.

  Alex was charming, lit up with excitement as he talked about his truck. Sasha nudged him on the shoulder. “Come, I’ll show you something.”

  He turned to the ramp that led down one floor. The garage was mostly empty, but he’d parked in his usual spot in a back corner that was mostly out of the way. Alex gasped behind him as they turned a corner.

  “No way.” He pushed past Sasha, approaching the car with obvious delight on his face. “What is this, a ’68?”

  “No
, ’69.” It was Sasha’s turn to stare at his car with pride. The Camaro had been one of his impulse purchases a couple of years ago, black with red racing stripes and a soft top that he could retract on the rare sunny Seattle day. He’d reupholstered the seats to be a buttery black leather, and took it out when he needed a pick-me-up after a rough game.

  Alex was bent over, peering into the windows, practically vibrating with excitement. “Do you collect classics? I always figured if I made the Show for real I’d want to buy a house somewhere with a big garage, and spend my free time restoring old cars.”

  Sasha crossed the parking garage to join him. He rested his hand on Alex’s back for a moment, caressing the warm skin he could feel beneath his thin T-shirt, then reluctantly let go so he could nudge the smaller man over and unlock the car.

  “I don’t collect,” he said. “Someday, maybe I’ll get another one. A Shelby or GTO.”

  Growing up in Russia, his family hadn’t been wealthy at all. They’d struggled to put him through basic hockey programs. He’d watched old movies on their small television, American action films with fast cars and explosions, and dreamed of having one just like it when he was older. For him, the Camaro was a physical symbol that he’d finally made it.

  Alex slid into the driver’s seat, running his hand over the steering wheel. “You’ll have to take me out in this someday. I bet she’s a beast.”

  Sasha bit back a groan. Alex’s pale skin was a beautiful contrast against the black leather, and his nimble fingers darting over the gear shaft were giving Sasha very inappropriate thoughts.

  I could take him out in this car, he thought, then find a back road somewhere, surrounded by trees. Lay him down in the back seat, all that clear pristine skin on display. Just like in the movies, when the couple finally gets to be together.

  He was tempted to ask Alex out right now, could practically feel the words forming on his tongue.

  Thankfully his phone buzzed in his pocket before he could make a fool out of himself. He pulled it out and bit back a curse at the display.

  Ed was awake, finally.

  “Sorry, I have to go,” he said.

  Alex slid out of the car with one last caress of the steering wheel. “No problem. Hey, you want to get lunch on Tuesday after practice?”

  Sasha grinned. “Yes, for sure. Maybe we’ll take my car.”

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Alex grinned, looking very pleased with himself. “Have a good afternoon, Sasha.”

  “You too.”

  Sasha watched him head back up the ramp. When he sat down in his car, the seat was warm, and he had to close his eyes and regain his composure before he could start the car and head back home.

  Mrs. Merkley… a girl can dream! (@MerkleyFan96)

  This schedule is the worst! 11 days on the road, and then only one day off before they have to play again? Poor ’Scades, hope they were able to get enough sleep and recover from the time differences. Nashville is tough!

  ALEX WAS in a fantastic mood going into the game on Monday. He wasn’t playing, which meant there was no pressure on him beyond showing up and getting his gear on. He’d fed Sunday morning from Heather, and his arm was almost completely healed now. And, to top it all off, he’d had a great conversation the day before with Sasha.

  “Dude, I didn’t even think about the car thing,” Shawn had said when Alex got home from practice. “He loves that damn Camaro like it’s a child. I think he did a lot of the work on it by himself. Figures you two would both be gear heads.”

  “It’s a gorgeous car,” Alex had said.

  Shawn had rolled his eyes. “A gorgeous car, or a gorgeous man?”

  Alex had just smirked. “Why can’t it be both?”

  He’d finished the evening off grilling steaks with Shawn and catching up on some TV, and had gone to bed dreaming of Sasha pressing him down onto the hood of the Camaro and kissing him.

  So Alex was almost floating when he got to the arena before the Nashville game, and even a summons to the coach’s office wasn’t enough to bring his mood down too much.

  “Hey, you wanted to see me, Coach?”

  Henrique motioned him to take a chair. He didn’t seem upset, which was a good sign; in fact, Alex thought he might have seen a hint of a smile on Coach’s face when he first tapped on the doorframe to announce his arrival. So he was relaxed as he slid into the office.

  “Great game against Buffalo last week, Fanning. Grant says you’ve been working hard in practices and picking up suggestions easily.”

  Grant Ogilve was the goalie coach. He’d initially been more focused on Hertzog, spending time helping Matthias get comfortable as the team’s unexpected starter; lately, however, he’d been working closer with Alex, and the extra training was paying off.

  “Yes, sir,” Alex said. “He’s great, has some interesting training exercises to help with tracking the puck.”

  “Excellent.” Coach steepled his fingers and studied Alex for a moment. “We’re playing Arizona in two days. Grant and I agree that we’d like you to start in that game.”

  Shock and excitement left Alex temporarily speechless. He hadn’t expected to play in another game until the second week of February, when the team had back-to-back games at home.

  He finally managed to say, “Thank you, Coach.”

  But apparently Coach wasn’t finished. “Matty was never intended to be a starting goalie for this team, but we’ve been following your progress with the Loggers since you took over the starting position there. Last season was very impressive. We were hoping that you’d be able to show that ability on the NHL level, and the two games you played so far were fantastic.”

  Alex managed not to make a face, thinking about the Vancouver game. Coach must have seen something, though, because he definitely smiled this time.

  “I know. The loss in your first game stung. But we really liked what we saw.” He tapped his desk, clearly thinking. “Grant suggested that you also play one of the two games in Alberta at the end of this week. I’d like to ease you in a bit more, but Grant is convinced that you’re capable, and I’ll defer to his judgment. So we’re going to play you Wednesday for the home game, and then Friday against Edmonton as well, I think.”

  Alex couldn’t help the grin that split his face. “Yes, sir. I know you’re putting a lot of trust in me, and I promise I’ll do my best not to let you or the team down.”

  “Good, good. You’d better get moving if you don’t want to be late for practice.”

  With one last thank-you thrown over his shoulder, Alex scrambled from the room.

  All goalies, all the time (@GoalieGirl29)

  FINALLY! Cascades are giving Fanning the recognition he deserves! They interviewed Rico before the game and he said Fanning is gonna start the two games after this one. He’s so good, can’t wait to see him play.

  Chad (@Despresident)

  @GoalieGirl29: he’s played 2 games and lost 1 of them… wtf are you talking about? we need despres back before this team misses playoffs.

  THE SLIGHT roster changeup didn’t really make waves in the locker room, apart from a few guys who fist-bumped Alex, and Matty who grinned and threw and arm over Alex’s shoulder, looking proud and not a little relieved.

  But to Sasha, the announcement felt like being boarded.

  Ed’s going to be pissed.

  His friend had been gone by the time Sasha got home on Sunday afternoon, and the note had been balled up and thrown into the trash can.

  The entire situation had made Sasha furious, until guilt took over and the anger died away. But it was becoming increasingly more difficult for Sasha to find a balance. He wanted to support Ed and see his friend succeed and return to playing, but he couldn’t do that if Ed kept drinking and acting the way that he was… and from what Sasha had seen over the last few weeks, he definitely couldn’t support Eddie and be friends with Alex at the same time.

  I’ll call him later this week. Maybe Ed would be sober then,
and they could talk things over.

  But as much as he hoped for the best, Sasha had a sinking feeling that he was going to have to make a choice soon, and it wasn’t going to be an easy one to make.

  Chapter Twelve

  The NHLPA today filed a motion against Commissioner Heatly’s proposal to add genetic testing to mandatory health and fitness screenings for all athletes, calling the move “discriminatory” and “a violation of current CBA regulations.” In a written response, Heatly stated that genetic screenings fell under current CBA guidelines regarding testing of players to ensure that “no performance-enhancing drugs or other factors that might unfairly influence a player’s ability” be allowed. Heatly has asked that a vote be added to the agenda for the upcoming General Managers meeting, already scheduled for April, following the end of the regular season.

  —Ellen DeSmith, ESPN

  WATCHING ALEX slide into the passenger seat of his Camaro was one of the sexiest things Sasha had ever seen.

  Alex looked good, tight jeans and an even tighter T-shirt clinging to his frame, hair still a little damp from his shower after practice and falling over his forehead. He ducked into the car easily, sliding one hand over the leather seats in obvious pleasure.

  “God damn, this is one hell of a car.” Even Alex’s voice was sexy, low and purring like the Camaro’s engine. His eyes were dark when he turned to look at Sasha, crinkling with a smile. “You gonna take us to lunch or just idle here and let me fondle your upholstery?”

  Sasha really couldn’t answer that question the way he wanted to. So he swallowed around the sudden dryness in his throat, shifted gears, and backed out of his spot.

  There was no real chance in downtown Seattle to find open roads and show off the Camaro the way she deserved, but he still took the long way around to the restaurant he’d chosen.