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  Dammit. Alex sank back into his stall and let the cool wood at his back help to center him. It was several minutes before his fingers stopped trembling enough to undo the straps on his pads so he could get them off.

  What Merkley had said wasn’t anything new. Alex had heard that kind of talk over and over—from coaches, from fans, even from other teammates. But something about the way his captain had sneered the words made hot tears prickle in Alex’s eyes.

  He managed to flee to the showers without anyone noticing, where Alex cranked the water on and quickly shoved his face beneath the spray, washing away any evidence of his little breakdown. He soaped up and rinsed off, the actions mechanical while he was deep in thought. First it had been Petrov laughing about anti-Para slurs. Alex had always known to be careful around Russian players, who came from a culture where anti-Para and anti-gay rhetoric was common. But Merkley was Canadian. Canada had announced stronger Paranormal rights bills a couple of years ago, making it one of the safest places for Paras to live and work.

  Just proves that nowhere is safe. Shawn might be okay with it, but most people probably won’t be.

  He needed to be more careful and blend in better. If Merkley or someone else on the team found out, Alex’s NHL dream might be over before it even really started.

  Seattle Cascades (@CascadesNHL)

  The Cascades are 2-2 on their East Coast road trip going in to tonight’s game against Montreal. Let’s see if #TealAndWhite can triumph over #BleuBlancRouge! #WestCoastBestCoast

  Montreal NHL/LNH (@MontrealLNH)

  @CascadesNHL We’ll buy you a plate of poutine to cry into when you lose. // On vous achètera une poutine pour vous consoler quand vous allez perdre.

  Seattle Cascades (@CascadesNHL)

  @MontrealLNH thanks, but we already had our celebratory poutine after crushing Toronto two nights ago.

  Montreal NHL/LNH (@MontrealLNH)

  @CascadesNHL We might owe you dinner just for that. Thanks! // Juste pour ça, on devrait vous payer le souper. Merci!

  THE GAME against Buffalo had been the kind of spectacular win that put Sasha in an equally spectacular mood. The team had played out of their minds, everybody doing their job perfectly, passes connecting crisply and plays working exactly as intended.

  And their goalie… well, the game had shown Sasha that maybe he’d been too hard on Alex from the start. Because Alex wasn’t just an okay backup… he was breathtaking.

  Forty saves on forty-one shots, and the only goal a fluke bounce off Mo’s skate that had been impossible to stop under any circumstances. Even Eddie couldn’t have done better, Sasha had to admit.

  He’d skated up to the net toward the end of the third period to tap his stick on Alex’s leg pad, and the smile he’d received in return had been blinding, like sunshine.

  “Go score a goal for me,” Alex had said, laughing.

  The way Alex had looked at him, so full of pure joy, was enough to buoy Sasha for the rest of the game. And he could all but feel Alex’s pride and excitement when, in the dying seconds of the game, Sasha was able to tap the puck in for the empty net to help bring Alex his first ever NHL victory.

  Afterward the entire team had lined up on the ice to give Alex celebratory head-taps. Shawn had pulled the goalie into a huge hug, spinning him around while laughing loudly. And when it had been Sasha’s turn….

  “Поздравляю,” he’d said, bumping his helmet against Alex’s. “Congratulations.”

  And Alex had smiled at him, eyes glowing with such pure joy that Sasha’s breath had caught in his throat.

  But then, within the span of an hour, everything had gone wrong, and Sasha had no idea why.

  Alex had been gone when Carts went to find him after showering and getting dressed. A bunch of guys wanted to go out for drinks, to celebrate the win and Alex’s achievement. But the goalie had been nowhere to be found, and a trainer had eventually revealed that Alex had gone back to the hotel, not feeling well.

  Maybe he was hiding an injury after all. Sasha’s mind flashed back to their interaction in the hallway and the way Alex had reacted.

  But if it was an injury, that didn’t explain why Alex had completely withdrawn. He still rode the bus next to Sasha, sat next to him on the drive up to Toronto. But while they’d been friendly earlier in the day, the Alex after the game had been the same cold statue he’d encountered in the previous weeks. If Coach had wanted them to become friends… well, Sasha couldn’t be friends with a brick wall, and that was about as much response and emotion as he was getting from Alex.

  And nothing changed in the following days either.

  They won against Toronto, Hertzog in net, then had a day off before facing Montreal. Alex dutifully spent their travel time with Sasha as required, but while before he’d seemed chatty and willing to open up, now he was withdrawn, distant.

  “What the hell is wrong with Fanning?” he asked Shawn in the locker room, after losing to Montreal in overtime.

  Shawn frowned. “I don’t know. He’s not talking to me. I’m getting worried, you know? Maybe it’s the road trip; he’s probably—” He cut himself off, guilt flashing over his face. “Actually, yeah, no. I’m sure it’s nothing. Just leave him be, man. I know Coach wanted you two to bond on this trip, but I think it’s best if you wait until we’re back home.”

  With a friendly punch to the shoulder, Carts took off, leaving Sasha even more confused.

  What does Shawn know that I don’t?

  Sasha left the locker room to find the visitor’s gym so he could cool down on the bike for a few minutes. As he turned the corner, though, he heard a voice. Alex’s voice, sounding happier than he’d heard him since Buffalo.

  “Yeah, for sure,” Alex said. When Sasha peered around another corner, he saw the familiar lanky form tucked into a back hallway, holding a phone up to his ear. He was, Sasha realized, holding his arm against his chest like it was in a sling. So he is injured, then. “No, seriously! Uh-huh. Fine, I’ll take you out, somewhere fancy. You pick the restaurant, though; you’re the famous one.” He laughed, tilting his head back. “Well, a boy can dream. Okay. Yeah, we’re flying in late after the Quebec City game on Saturday. Meet me at the airport? I’ll text you the arrival time.”

  He listened for a second to whoever was on the other end.

  “Thanks, Heather. I mean it. Can’t wait to see you.” Alex turned slightly, and Sasha could see that he was smiling, the same wide grin he’d given to Sasha after his win. “Okay, bye.”

  Sasha whirled around and hurried down the hallway before he could get caught, heart racing.

  So that’s why he’s been so sad, then. He misses his girlfriend, and Shawn probably knew too. Sasha swallowed around the lump in his throat.

  If Alex was too busy missing his girlfriend to pay attention to Sasha, then that wasn’t Sasha’s problem. It just proved to him that Alex wasn’t interested in being his friend… and even Coach’s orders couldn’t change that.

  Chapter Ten

  cascadian-not-canadian

  Photos from the Cascades 4-3 win over Quebec City on February 3.

  see-me-in-sea-tac

  does anyone else think the new goalie, fanning, looks a little under the weather? you can see him in the background of the third picture. god please tell me we haven’t already broken our backup’s backup! we’re gonna need him in the next few weeks, so hopefully he’s well enough to play!

  BY THE time they boarded the plane for the long overnight flight back to Seattle, Alex felt like curling up and crying.

  It wasn’t just the hunger, though having not fed properly in eleven days made every inch of his body ache. Even if he’d wanted to try to find someone to feed on, he’d been stuck with Sasha the whole trip and hadn’t been able to slip away without risking being caught. Playing a game in the middle hadn’t helped, certainly, and the win over Buffalo had been a massive exertion. But he’d gone longer without feeding his vampire side before, even with being in net in betwe
en.

  Instead, it was the fear that kept creeping up his spine every time he walked by a group of his teammates or suited up for practice. Merkley’s harsh words had terrified him; combined with the television report he’d caught in the hotel lobby in Buffalo, Alex felt like he hadn’t slept properly in a week.

  If anyone finds out, I’m done.

  All Alex had ever wanted to do was play hockey. It had been his dream since his dad had first strapped skates on his feet at age three. He’d done everything in his power to get to where he was today, playing in the NHL. And he’d done it all while hiding half of himself, feeding in the middle of the night and sneaking around teammates, always paranoid that someone might notice something. “He’s too pale” or “Do his incisors look a little long to you?” were phrases that he couldn’t risk.

  Being a vampire didn’t give him better reflexes or more speed. Hell, even full-blooded Paras didn’t see extra benefits like that when they were in a human form. But humans like Merkley and the NHL commissioner believed what they wanted to.

  And humans like Sasha see us, at best, as insults to laugh about.

  So when Alex dragged his tired body onto the plane, the last thing he wanted to do was get stuck sitting next to a human for the next six and a half hours—especially not a human who smelled like everything Alex wanted and could never have.

  But a look from Coach Henrique told him to suck it up, so Alex slid into the aisle seat beside Sasha without a word of protest.

  “Hey.”

  Alex glanced over at the Russian. “Hey.”

  Sasha looked surprised at the simple response, and Alex was hit with the realization that he’d been kind of a dick for the last few days.

  “Sorry,” he said, “for icing you out. I haven’t been feeling great.”

  The plane was dark and quiet as most of their teammates dropped off quickly to sleep. Still, Sasha looked around and lowered his voice. “It’s the injury on your arm, yes?”

  Alex blinked, adrenaline yanking him out of his exhaustion. “What?”

  Gentle fingers touched his arm, where the bandage still rested. Six days without blood since he’d been injured meant it hadn’t healed any faster than a human burn would have, and the skin was still an angry red beneath his sleeve.

  “How’d you know?”

  The fingers moved down, skirting the cuff of Alex’s dress shirt. “May I?”

  When Alex didn’t protest, Sasha began to unbutton the cuff. Alex held his breath as Sasha rolled the sleeve up, fingers brushing against the soft skin on the inside of Alex’s wrist.

  Sasha hissed quietly when the bandage came into view. “How bad?”

  “It’s fine,” Alex said.

  Clearly Sasha didn’t believe him, because he went to peel the bandage off, teasing the edge of the adhesive carefully before pulling it back.

  “Alex.” Sasha exhaled the word, eyes fixed on the wide burn as it was revealed. It was easily visible even in the dimmed lights, a dark line almost three inches wide that ran just below Alex’s elbow. “You didn’t see a trainer about this.”

  “They might have pulled me from the game,” Alex said quickly. “I couldn’t—you wouldn’t understand.”

  Sasha pressed his lips together and replaced the bandage, sealing the tape down with his fingertips before rolling the sleeve back over Alex’s arm. “No, I don’t understand why you would hide this. It’s just one game.”

  “It’s not!”

  Someone kicked Alex’s seat and hissed, “Shut up, man!”

  Alex lowered his voice again, ducking his head. “It’s not,” he repeated more quietly. “You’ve been playing in the NHL for, what, five years? You get to have this every single day, playing your heart out with the best in the world. But I’ve been dreaming about the NHL for two decades, and now I’ve finally made it here.”

  Sasha was still holding his wrist, Alex realized. He narrowed his focus on the point where their skin touched, the heat of Sasha’s fingers a different type of burning than the one farther up his arm.

  “I have to prove myself. Right now, people look at me and they see an AHL goalie. I need the chance to play, to make them see an NHL goalie instead.”

  Sasha opened his mouth, then closed it. After a minute he said, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  The fingers on his wrist slipped away, and Alex almost moaned at the loss. He was cold suddenly, feeling all eleven days without fresh blood.

  “Because I thought of you like this, before. An AHL goalie, who does not belong in the NHL. Ed—Eduard Despres, he is one of my best friends. I thought, This new goalie, he can never replace Eddie. So I look at you with hate, instead of giving you a chance.”

  That was what Shawn had said, on the drive up from Portland before they’d left on this trip. Hearing it from Sasha’s mouth, however, meant more.

  “I don’t want to replace your friend,” Alex said. “I just want to play.”

  Sasha nodded. “I understand. In Buffalo, you played amazing.”

  Alex had heard those words from his teammates after the game. Coming from Sasha now, however, they felt more meaningful. “Thank you.”

  They lapsed into silence, exhaustion pulling both of them closer to sleep. Alex shifted his arm back into his lap reluctantly, then tried to curl up in his seat to sleep.

  “Hey. Alex.” Sasha’s hand was back, this time on his upper arm. “You can lean against me, if you need. Better for your arm, so it doesn’t get bumped.”

  Alex stared at him for a long moment. Sasha’s eyes were soft, tender. It made Alex long for things he couldn’t have, and he swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  Sasha’s shoulder wasn’t exactly a pillow, but it was warm and his shirt was soft, and he smelled incredible as Alex inhaled his scent. Alex closed his eyes, feeling safe and relaxed for the first time since Buffalo.

  “Hey, Sasha?” he whispered as he dozed off. “I forgive you.”

  He fell asleep to the sensation of fingers carding through his hair.

  Seattle Cascades (@CascadesNHL)

  The Cascades head home after a long East Coast trip, which they split 3-3 with wins against Buffalo, Toronto, and Quebec City. Looking forward to a day off tomorrow, and then we’re back Monday to take on Nashville at home.

  SASHA SLEPT better on the flight home than he could ever remember sleeping on a plane. It was as though he could feel the pain draining from Alex’s body as the goalie fell asleep, and that was enough to let him close his eyes and sleep as well.

  He woke up when the plane started to descend hours later, groggy but pleasantly warm along his side where Alex was resting on him. Waking Alex up was almost as nice; he brushed strands of dark brown hair from Alex’s forehead and watched those dark eyes flutter open, sleep-hazed and relaxed.

  “We’re landing soon,” he whispered.

  Alex smiled softly and pulled away, to Sasha’s disappointment.

  But that minor displeasure was nothing compared to what Sasha felt when they got off the plane soon after… and Alex walked straight across the tarmac and into the waiting arms of a stunning blonde.

  That must be Heather. Sourness balled up in Sasha’s stomach as he watched. They didn’t kiss or even hug beyond a sleepy one-armed greeting, but it was obvious they were close. Heather opened the trunk of her luxury sedan, Alex loaded his suitcase in, and then they were gone.

  “Damn,” Engel said from behind Sasha. “Wish my wife would wake up at 2:00 a.m. to get me from the airport. How’d Fanning manage to get a girl like that so quickly after arriving?”

  Some of the others laughed, though everyone was tired due to the late hour, but Sasha couldn’t find any humor in it.

  Instead, he dragged himself to his car, Misha barely awake beside him.

  “I can drive,” Misha mumbled.

  Sasha gave him a look. “Get your license first and then we’ll talk.”

  “The test is stupid, and it’s all
in English.” Misha made a face but didn’t object any further as he climbed into the passenger seat.

  Sasha navigated the almost empty roads of Seattle with ease. Late-night arrivals were, unfortunately, one of the least appealing parts of his job, but he’d gotten used to them over the years. Besides, he’d slept for most of the flight and felt surprisingly well-rested as a result.

  He pulled into the garage half an hour later, relieved to be home.

  “Gonna crash,” Misha said through a yawn. “I’ll get my suitcase in the morning.”

  He stomped inside, eyes barely open as he headed straight up the stairs. Sasha heard his door close a few seconds later. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed both of their suitcases, leaving them at the foot of the staircase before moving into the kitchen for a bottle of water.

  He froze in the doorway to the kitchen, terrified.

  The light was on, and there was a person sitting at his kitchen table.

  A familiar person, he realized a moment later. “Ed, hey.” Sasha swallowed, fear at seeing an unexpected person in his house slowly fading away. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

  He’d given Ed a key to his house years ago, but his friend only rarely used it.

  “Hadn’t seen you in over two weeks,” Ed replied. “I still get the travel notifications in my email, even though I’m injured. Figured you’d be home by about now and we could catch up.”

  Sasha took in the scene. Ed looked wide-awake despite the late hour. His arm was still in a sling, and he had his feet kicked up on another one of Sasha’s kitchen chairs. On the table in front of him was an empty glass and the bottle of Sasha’s expensive vodka.

  The bottle was half-empty. It had been almost full when Sasha had left the week prior.