Page 61 of Brace and Chase

CHARLIE

We landin Miami just before noon, the time difference doing wonders for me since I got all the recuperative sleep I needed on the flight.

I literally woke up from the rattling of the plane when we landed, and then proceeded to single-mindedly ignore the fact that my head had been resting on Nikolay’s shoulder.

Nothing to see here, nothing at all.

I can hope all day long that no one else saw that, but chances are at least a handful of our teammates did. No one says anything, though, which I’m sure is a byproduct of Nikolay’s scowl. The same scowl I dreaded less than a week ago seems almost adorable when aimed at other people.

I think it’s thanks to the fact that I now know what a goofball he is. Can you ever fear someone’s wrath after yourealize they’re listening to Celine Dion songs during a flight?

No, you can’t.

So I just go with the flow, following everyone out of the plane, picking up my bag with them, climbing into a bus, sitting next to Nikolay again, this time near the front, and hearing the faint sounds of “The Power of Love” when the bus starts moving.

A hand appears between us suddenly, coming from behind, and I turn just in time to see Benny’s head appear over Nikolay’s seat as he taps him on the shoulder.

Nikolay moves one of the earpieces back and turns back.

“Great song selection, Santa,” Benny says with mirth coating every word.

Nikolay barks out a laugh and then... they start singing. Together.

With big fucking smiles on their faces. I can only watch, open-mouthed and transfixed, as the whole team joins in for the chorus and they tweak the lyrics just a little.

“I’m your baaaaaaaabyyyyyyyy,” they belt. A bus full of adult fucking men, men who fight other men while on the ice on a weekly basis, all of them drop their macho attitudes for two minutes and sing like lovesick teenagers.

I sit and watch, waiting for someone to explain the inside joke to me, but they just sing the rest of the song. Till the very fucking end.

When I turn in his direction, I catch even Laney mouthing the words—with the lyric change and all.

It’s bizarre, puzzling, and . . . delightful.

When the song is over, Benny proceeds to tell me about the grand gesture he and Bates concocted to get back with his boyfriend Chris, and I laugh through the whole retelling since his elaborate gestures and mock-serious tone are funny as hell.

That’s the moment.

The one I’ve been waiting for all my career.

No, I’m not looking at the Stanley Cup after fighting tooth and nail for months on end, but weirdly enough, a deep sense of belonging settles into my heart in that moment. If this is what it’s like to be a Pirate, I don’t ever want to be anything else.

“Sweetheart and Santa,”Laney shouts in the lobby of our hotel. He could’ve just spoken normally, seeing as we’re right next to him, but who am I to tell him how to do anything? “Here are your keys,” he tells us and quickly moves on.

There’s a way to do things in the NHL, and as far as I know this extends to most teams. The older guys in the team, the better players in the team, always get their own rooms during roadies. I’ve had my own room for damn nearten years, and that translated when I was signed by the Pirates.

“Hey, can I come up for a while?” I hear from my left. I turn and see it’s Benny, and he’s asking Nikolay. He looks at me with the request in his eyes, which I appreciate, and I nod without hesitation.

I have no clue if Benny hanging out in Nikolay’s room is something usual or not, but given the way my body—and mind—keeps reacting to him whenever we’re alone, I don’t think having a third party there would do us any harm.

We get on the elevator with our bags and Benny in tow, and soon enough we’re in our room. Two queen-sized beds are separated by about three feet, which is more than usual I think. Not that it’ll do any good if I get a wild idea in the middle of the night and decide to cuddle up to Nikolay to get another feel of his hard body pressed against mine.

“I’m going to unpack,” I declare, way too loudly for such a lame statement.

Benny smiles at me, looking a bit confused, and Nikolay just smirks. God, I want to kiss that smirk off his face. Before I can go down that rabbit hole, though, a thought strikes me and I turn to Benny.

“Unless you want privacy?” I check in with him.

“No, it’s fine. Maybe you can help too,” he says happily and goes over to one of the beds, sits with a bounce, and looks at us expectantly.

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