Page 33 of Brace and Chase

It fucking burns to know that. To know that for the first time in my career I’m the problem in my team. We barely have a winning record and it’s the middle of the regular season. If we’re not careful we won’t get into the playoffs and we definitely won’t win our division with the way Phoenix is playing.

Something’s gotta give; something’s gotta change.

Staring—morelike gaping—at the scene in front of me, I’m at a loss for words.

I arrived a little early, the way I always do, for our light skating practice today. And like I always do, I walked down the corridor to the locker room only to feel trepidation slowly filling my veins when I heard there was music pumping from behind the door.

Dua Lipa no less.

Dancing the night away isn’t what I did to ring in the new year, but maybe the younger guys did?

I opened the door hesitantly and peeked inside to see what all the fuss was about, and that’s when I practically dislocated my jaw.

Because in the middle of the room there’s a huge Russian man, wearing only a towel around his hips, and shaking said hips like he’s getting paid to do it. All thewhile, Nikolay’s singing at the top of his lungs and so out of tune that I’m surprised Eagle, Milkman, Twocox, and Spiderman can even laugh.

They’re bent in half, gasping while earthquake-like laughter rings out of them.

I feel like I’m intruding, like I definitely shouldn’t be seeing—yup, now he’s twerking. How the hell is that towel staying on?

And Jesus, how many protein shakes does the guy drink in a day? And how many times does he go to the gym so that every single one of his muscles looks so defined and... bulging?

And why the fuck am I staring at his muscles?

I’m about to step out and, I don’t know, wait for this to be over to get ready for the ice, when Nikolay jumps and turns to shake his ass in the other direction.

He sees me and his movements stall for a second, but then he looks toward Eagle again and keeps dancing and singing like this is all... normal.

Is it normal?

I mean for them, not in general.

I know this isn’t actually normal, normal.

“Hey man,” Eagle tells me with a smile and an up nod,as if it’s normal. It’s not. He’s never greeted me so openly.

“Hello,” I say slowly. I don’t know what elsetosay.

“Santa here is just showing us how we should’ve rung in the new year.”

“Oh yeah?”

Do I sound as scared as I feel?

I sure hope not.

“Howdidyou spend last night?” I ask over the sound of Spiderman and Twocox still laughing. I’m trying with all my might to sound nonchalant as I have to walk sideways to get to my cubby. I make damn sure not to touch Nikolay.

“We just played NHL until about one and then passed out on my couch,” Eagle tells me with a careless shrug and easy smile.

I smile back, hoping it’s the right thing to do, then turn away because since when do I fucking tiptoe around twenty-year-olds?

I’m clearly out of it, but who would blame me?

The one-eighty from yesterday, when Eagle didn’t say one word to me during the Christmas party, is startling as fuck.

I tell myself to just go with it. Act like nothing’s wrong.

Nikolay’s still twerking, to Cardi B now, and I can’t stifle my snicker when he sings along. “WAP, WAP, WAP,” he screeches at the top of his lungs and makes Twocox fall on the floor from laughter.

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