Suckerpunch Page 4

  Petrov just laughed and flipped his countryman the middle finger.

  But the slur had been enough to jolt Alex back to reality. It didn’t matter how attractive Sasha Petrov was, or how amazing he smelled; the fact was, Sasha was human. So was Shawn, and Mikhail, and probably everyone else on the team. And if Alex wanted to play with them, he needed to be a lot more careful.

  Like, maybe don’t sniff your teammates as though they’re a bouquet of roses. And definitely don’t think about flirting with humans… especially your human teammates, and especially ones who laugh at slurs like that. Two decades of playing hockey and creating rules to protect himself, and Alex had been about to throw them all away over a pair of pretty blue eyes and a jawline that would make Captain America envious.

  By the time Sasha—Petrov… I can’t let myself get too close to him—had turned back from Volkov and was paying attention to the introduction once again, Alex had managed to lock down his emotions and paste on a carefully neutral expression. He took a step back, almost subconsciously, then glanced up to find Petrov studying him with his lips pressed together.

  He doesn’t like me. The realization hit Alex suddenly. It was obvious in Petrov’s expression, and the way he held his body, not bothering to extend a hand for Alex to shake. His blue eyes were narrowed as they took Alex in and clearly found him wanting.

  “Nice to meet you,” Alex said, but his tone said just the opposite. He folded his arms over his chest instead of offering his own hand to shake.

  Either Shawn wasn’t fazed by the rising tension, or he hadn’t noticed it. He squeezed Petrov’s arm playfully. “Sasha, smile and be nice to our new goalie.”

  Petrov bared his teeth in what could only charitably be called a smile. “I’m late,” he said to Shawn, words lightly accented. “Gotta get dressed.”

  He pulled away from Shawn’s grasp, stomping over to his locker. The decadent smell vanished with him.

  “He takes a while to warm up to people,” Shawn said with an apologetic smile.

  Alex snorted. “Yeah, he seems like a real charmer.”

  At least the guy’s a dick. It would make it easier to keep his distance going forward.

  NHL Box Score (Final)

  Seattle Cascades 2

  Houston Cosmos 3

  SEA: B. Thompson; B. Rager

  HOU: T. Ford; S. Rabinowitz; M. Wronski

  A LOSS always rankled Sasha more than it did most of the other guys, especially in a game they should have been able to win easily. Houston was one of the worst teams in the league right now, and yet the Cascades were the ones heading back to their locker room tonight in disappointment.

  The only person on the team who didn’t look upset, as a matter of fact, was the new goalie. He still had on his Loggers-themed mask and pads, making him stand out among the sea of blue, and he had a bounce in his step as he followed the team off the ice.

  Why is he so excited? The kid was wide-eyed, the way he’d been since the game started. Not that Sasha had been looking, exactly, but it had been impossible to miss. Who the hell does this kid think he is?

  Sasha fumed, stripping out of his sweaty gear and throwing it into the laundry bins.

  “Bro, you okay?” Carts bumped against his arm companionably. “You look like we just lost a Game 7.”

  “Fine.”

  Carts laughed. “Man, you’re in a bad mood today. It’s all right. Houston had to win one eventually.”

  Of course Shawn didn’t understand. Sasha’s play had been sloppy from the exhaustion of the previous day, sure, but he hadn’t played badly. And that was the problem—he’d played decently but still hadn’t been able to make any difference in helping the team win.

  Across the room, the kid had pulled his pads off but was still sitting in his stall without undressing further. He had his head tilted up, and looked like he was… meditating maybe? His chest expanded and contracted as though he was taking deep breaths.

  Logically Sasha knew the new goalie wasn’t a child. He had to be about the same age as Shawn, which made him only two or three years younger than Sasha himself. But he looked like one of the pop stars who Sasha’s little sister had posters of hanging up on her wall, not like an NHL-caliber goalie.

  Can he even play hockey? He was short and lanky, practically a beanpole. Eddie and Matty were both large men, well over six feet, and bulky enough to fill their nets and stop pucks. Okay, maybe he’s not that short, Sasha mentally corrected. The kid—Fanning, he recalled—was only a hair below six feet. And he’s not as lanky as he looks, more compact muscle than bulk.

  But still.

  Sasha turned around to his stall, purposefully putting his back between them.

  “You know, if you stare hard enough, he will probably burst into flames.” That was Mikhail, the brat, speaking in Russian as he sidled up to Sasha while he was deep in his thoughts. He had a shit-eating grin on his face as he invaded Sasha’s space.

  Sasha rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure, sure,” Misha said easily. “But the way you were glaring just now, I figured I should come over here in case you are going to lunge across the room and stab him with a skate blade.”

  He laughed and threw his sweaty shoulder pads at Sasha, who batted them away in disgust.

  “You are a child,” Sasha said gravely, but his heart was racing. A glance around showed no one else was paying attention; no one else had seen him staring at Fanning so intently.

  Misha didn’t look even the slightest bit chastised. “Sorry, Sasha,” he said, though he didn’t sound anything of the sort.

  “Go away. Shower. You stink.” He shoved his rookie away so he could return to his own postgame routines.

  But Misha’s words stuck with him. Hate and lust, it was a thin line and one that Sasha wasn’t sure he wanted to examine too closely.

  Anyway, it didn’t matter. The kid was cold as ice, had rejected Sasha from the start, so why should he even bother? Fanning would be up for a few more months, he’d play a couple of games to back up Hertzog, and then he’d go back to Oregon where he belonged.

  Sasha could ignore him until then.

  Chapter Four

  “Look, I’m just saying—the Cascades might be in trouble. Despres was the backbone of this team through the first three months of the season, and losing him is going to hurt. Hertzog has shown us so far that he’s a serviceable replacement, but he’s never played more than thirty games in a season and he has a history of injuries.”

  “I don’t disagree, Bob, but if you’ve been following the Loggers over the last few years, you’ll know that Fanning has been absolutely spectacular. He’s the reason Portland won the Calder Cup last year. If he can maintain that skill at the NHL level, I think the Cascades won’t have any problem making playoffs again this year.”

  —Bob Rousseau and Emily Burnwood, Seattle Cascades Intermission Report

  IT TOOK six more days before Sasha was finally able to visit Ed in the hospital.

  First they took a short road trip east to Winnipeg and Minnesota, where Hertzog managed to hold down the fort long enough for the Cascades to collect four valuable points. In between, Sasha tried calling the hospital half a dozen times, only to be told that Ed was with the doctor or undergoing another test or that he was sleeping.

  So by the time they had two days off before their next home game, Sasha was getting desperate to see his best friend—and no nurse, doctor, or stupid hospital regulation was going to prevent him from doing so.

  He had Ed’s room number from one of the trainers, but Sasha still ducked his head as he walked down the hallway, shoulders up as though any second an orderly was going to lunge in front of him and stop him from going any farther. But no one said a word, and he arrived at the door to room 308 without any problems.

  And, miracle of miracles, Ed was alone in the room and awake. There was a speaker next to the bed, and Sasha recognized a replay of a basketball game from the night bef
ore. Ed had never been a basketball fan, though, so Sasha didn’t feel any guilt in clearing his throat and stepping into the room.

  “Golden State wins by four, in case you were wondering,” he said.

  Ed’s eyes widened, and he sat up straight in his hospital bed. He had a gown on, but a pair of sweatpants beneath them. The bruise on his cheek had turned a nauseating shade of purple and green.

  “Sasha! You came!”

  The smile that stretched across Ed’s face sent relief through Sasha’s body. “Sorry I couldn’t come sooner. We were out of town the last few days.”

  “I heard.” Ed held an arm out, and Sasha stepped forward to wrap him in a hug.

  Until Ed hissed, and Sasha sprung back in panic.

  It was then he noticed the plain white cast on Ed’s arm, and the sling wrapped over the opposite shoulder. “Sorry, sorry.”

  Ed shook his head, but even that gesture was clearly painful. “It’s fine. A couple of broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, and a clean fracture on the arm. They tell me it could have been way worse.”

  Sasha had seen the car. He had no doubt that Ed was lucky to be in the shape he was in.

  “Anyway, tell me about the games. I listened to you guys beat Winnipeg, but they started me on a new antibiotic that’s kicking my ass, so I was passed out for the Minnesota game.”

  Hooking a chair with his foot, Sasha dragged it over and sat down. He rested one hand on Ed’s knee, relieved to see and feel proof that his friend was going to be okay. “The Minnesota game. It was… what’s the phrase Bayer likes? ‘Shit show.’ We won, but only barely.”

  He launched into the game, pleased to see Ed grinning and laughing as he recapped the highlights.

  The game had been one of those fast-paced, high-scoring barn-burners that fans and media loved but players absolutely hated. By the end of the sixty minutes, the entire Cascades roster had been sweating buckets and longing for the final buzzer. But the game hadn’t been without its moments of fun, of course… and hilarity.

  “And then the puck goes flying into the bench, almost hits Fanning right in the head! Look on his face, so startled.” Sasha cracked up, remembering it.

  It took him a second to realize that Ed wasn’t laughing.

  “Who’s Fanning?”

  Sasha sobered quickly. “Eddie—”

  Ed shook his head, a quick jerking movement that had to hurt. “You’re talking about Alex Fanning, from the Loggers, aren’t you?” His lips pressed together and his nostrils flared. “My… replacement.”

  He said the last word as though it were something distasteful.

  “No!” Sasha gripped Ed’s knee. “Not replacement. Only playing a couple of games, just until you’re recovered.”

  But Ed didn’t look satisfied with that response. “Tell me about him.”

  Sasha twisted his lips. “He is… young. Looks like a child, but is same age as Carts. Very small, like strong wind will knock him over, you know?” But he’s also very handsome. And something about his eyes draws you in. Mama would say he has an old soul. Sasha shoved those thoughts aside, and added aloud, “You know, they play together for US Juniors team.”

  Ed was still frowning. “But how does he play?”

  “In practice he is good. Very fast.” Seeing the way Ed’s face darkened, Sasha hastened to add, “But he has not played in a real game yet. Practice is not everything. He will play Tuesday night, and I will come Wednesday and tell you how it goes, okay?”

  That didn’t seem to satisfy Ed, but he grumbled and rested back against his pillow nonetheless. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, frowning deeply. “I never want to see you lose a game. But I can’t help but want this Fanning kid to fail. If Coach thinks he’s found a new young gun to fill my spot, then I hope they’re proven wrong, is all.”

  It was a contract year for Ed, he recalled. Normally they’d have renewed his contract back in the summer or sometime during the year, but he remembered hearing that contract talks had stalled. Ed’s agent was asking for one amount, and the team was hesitating to pay it. Of course it would all be wrapped up soon, Sasha assumed, but this injury couldn’t be helping with the negotiations.

  “There’s no way Fanning is better than you, Ed. Don’t worry; just rest and focus on getting better, okay?”

  Ed smiled. “For sure. And hey, maybe next time you come, you can sneak me some real food? I wouldn’t mind some Chinese from that place we always go to for lunch. Man, a container of sweet and sour chicken, and a nice beer… you sneak that in on Wednesday, okay, Sasha?”

  Sasha laughed at the joke. “We’ll see what I can do.”

  Oliver Marks (@OliverMarksESPN)

  Hearing from sources that the NHL and Seattle Cascades are meeting to discuss potential investigation following arrest of G Eduard Despres after car accident, including option of suspension. This is Despres’s 2nd DUI charge in eight months.

  WATCHING HIS first NHL game from the bench might not have sounded all that great, but the reality had been far more than Alex could have expected. The AHL was a great league to play in, but the NHL was on a whole different level. Everything moved faster, and the shots were harder. Television hadn’t prepared him for this in the slightest.

  He’d gotten to observe four games now in the last week and a half, and warming the bench gave him a chance to see the team in action. It was obvious that Merkley was the star player. Fans chanted his name, and his goal that evening caused the entire building to shake from the cheering. He also took the chance to watch Shawn—and with Shawn, Petrov, who landed big hits and skated in a way that utterly belied his size.

  But the biggest takeaway of the last few games had been a simple revelation: I’m better than Hertzog. The Cascades’ goalie was a journeyman with an impressive pedigree, and a Stanley Cup as the backup for New Jersey a few years before, but he was old and his reflexes weren’t what they used to be. Alex wouldn’t say it aloud, but he could take that realization and wrap it around himself the next time the nerves hit. I can play in the NHL. I’m good enough for this.

  So when Coach called him into his office and told Alex that he’d be starting in a few days, Alex swallowed his fear and let those words wash over him. I’m good enough for the NHL.

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

  ohmygod the new guy? alex fanning? is *gorgeous*! here’s a pic of him from when he was on the loggers last year. those eyes! pic.twitter.com/zEh3….

  Emma (@Cascadiac)

  @MerkleyFan96: damnnnnn, he looks like something off a boyband album cover. Are we sure he’s really 22 though? He looks like he’s barely 18.

  Seattle Cascades (@CascadesNHL)

  Last year @goaliefanning was the AHL Top Goaltender, and tonight he’s starting in net for your Seattle Cascades! #TealAndWhite Check out these stats from his last season with the @PortlandLoggers: GP: 48 | GAA: 2.02 | SV%: .927 https://t.co/y9eDacVxui

  ALEX SAW his first NHL action three days later, on the second half of a back-to-back. The first game had been a shootout loss, leaving the team grouchy and frustrated. But the second was against a division rival, and nobody wanted to lose to Vancouver. Especially not Alex.

  Matty tapped him on the leg with his stick as they were waiting in the hallway to go out to the ice. “You got this,” he said confidently.

  Alex pressed his lips together and nodded.

  He found a place near the center red line to stretch, focusing on getting his muscles warm instead of on the movements of his teammates. When it was his turn to receive a few practice shots, Alex bumped shoulders with Hertzog as he skated to the net, and received a wide grin through his mask. Everyone seemed relaxed, but there was an undercurrent of excitement that was contagious.

  But beneath the nerves and the anticipation was a ball of hunger that sat heavy in Alex’s gut. He hadn’t fed since that night in San Diego, and he was feeling it now. Two weeks wasn’t the longest he’d ever gone, but it was close, and there was only so much that h
uman food could do to bridge the gap. He’d gone out for dinner after the previous night’s game with a group of guys from the team, and Shawn had given him a concerned frown when Alex had ordered his steak rare.

  Hell, those chicken livers are starting to sound better and better.

  He’d texted a few of his regulars in Portland to see if anyone could connect him with a source in Seattle, but hadn’t heard back yet. Desperation was starting to gnaw at the back of his mind, and his entire body ached in a way that had nothing to do with muscle fatigue.

  Still, it wasn’t the first time he’d played hungry, and Alex knew it wouldn’t be the last. The trick was to channel the hunger into focus, to ride the edge of the craving.

  He licked his lips, grimaced, and forced himself to focus as the game began.

  The Cascades’ starting line was clicking well tonight, the three forwards getting a shot off on Vancouver’s goal before turning the puck over. And then Vancouver was tearing down the ice toward Alex, forcing him to get his head back in the game.

  He stopped his first shot, and caught the rebound neatly a split second later, hearing the approving roar of the crowd around him.

  “Nice,” Shawn said, smiling as he skated by to set up for the face-off. “Guess you’re a real NHL goalie now, huh?”

  The praise from his best friend, and the cheering of the crowd, washed away any lingering trace of nervousness.

  It’s just hockey, Alex reminded himself. He knew he was good enough to be there. Now he only had to prove it.

  Chapter Five

  Welcome back to KTCP Radio 102.7, home of your Seattle Cascades! We’re past the halfway point in the second period. Derick Merkley wins the face-off and kicks the puck back to Mäkelä. Akseli Mäkelä is currently a Hart Trophy candidate, and he’s been on fire this season so far. Mäkelä passes to Petrov, who sends the puck into the corner of Vancouver’s zone and gives chase. Vancouver’s Deleon gets there first, though, and tries to move the puck along the boards, but Petrov is on him and BOOM what a hit! Deleon is down and Petrov has the puck. Vancouver’s bench is screaming for a penalty, but the refs are waving it aside as a clean hit, and now it’s Petrov to Merkley, to Rybár, he takes the shot!—saved by goaltender J.T. Parker, and the score is still tied at zero with 5:31 remaining in the second.