Page 63 of Brace and Chase

“You could also try phone sex tonight.” There goes Nikolay again with his blunt suggestions. And why can’t he stop talking about sexual favors? Can he just shut up and put me out of my misery already?

“Uhh,” Benny hesitates for the first time—fucking finally. Though he did say he wanted weird suggestions. He leans back, though, and smiles widely at Nikolay. Maybe a bit too wide. “I’ll think about that.” He stands and basically sprints to his discarded bags by the door. “See you guys for the team’s dinner,” he shouts without looking back, and then he’s gone.

And I’m alone with Nikolay once more.

And we’re sitting right next to each other.

Like a springboard, that thought has me jumping off the bed and repeating my earlier words. “I need to unpack.”

“And I need to nap,” Nikolay says in a scratchy voice I ignore. I focus on opening my suitcase and taking out my clothes for the day and a half we’ll spend here. When I’m done putting everything in place, I finally risk a look at him and see he’s on his back, almost like a mummy, his mouth slightly open.

That mouth . . .

Right, I need a cold shower. Now.

Like his bodyis an alarm clock, Nikolay wakes up less than a minute after I’m done getting ready to head over to Miami’s arena for our late practice. We’re playing early tomorrow, then getting right back on the plane to head over to Tampa.

After that, it’s a game in Boston, another one in Montreal, and then two back-to-back games in Detroit.

Long roadies like this one are only fun when you’re winning, and I’m sure we could win every game if we keep our heads in the game.

None of those teams are better than us, not really, but our stats this season have left a lot to be desired. We need to show up and live up to our potential.

With that in mind, Nikolay and I walk with every other player into the visiting team’s locker room and suit up.

Laney’s lip curls up when he sees we’re ready to go, but he lets us practice with the team normally—small wins. Andhe even lets us practice with the second line for a little while—bigger wins.

It somehow stings more, though, when after a quick session in the gym and quick showers, Laney comes in and announces the lineup for tomorrow’s game.

We’re still benched, but . . .

“Santa and Sweetheart,” he says at length, and Nikolay grumbles beside me. I assume it’s because of the still-benched thing so I empathize. “You’ll suit up tonight.”

That does brighten my mood a little, but what really pulls me out of the self-hatred spiral is walking into a steakhouse later that evening and sitting down with the rest of the team.

I’m surprised to see every player there, and though my fragile ego wants to focus on the fact that I’m probably the only one who hasn’t been attending these dinners all season, I force myself to focus on how all the young guys are also here.

They seem to be happy to be here as well.

None of them look eager to get out of here to go to a club and get drunk or find someone to hook up with. They all take their jobs seriously.

Has it always been like this in the Pirates team?

Has Nikolay never had a ready hookup in a new city?

I shake my head forcibly—no reason to be thinking about that—and I guess since he’s sitting next to me, he notices.

“You okay?” He’s frowning, and is that worry in his eyes?

“Everyone shut up.”

The hard tone of the words has me looking away from icy blue eyes and into Bear’s caramel ones. He stands and looks straight at me. Nerves attack me viciously at that moment. What the hell is happening right now?

“I have something to say.” He keeps going without looking away from me. “Something we should all be saying. But I wanted to be the first to apologize to you, Charlie.” He nods earnestly at me, though his face is still etched into hard angles. I can’t seem to breathe. “For all of us, not only me. And yes, that includes apologizing for that big oaf’s behavior all season. We haven’t treated you the way you deserve and I won’t make excuses for any of us. I will only say that from now on, hopefully we all think twice before following Santa’s lead.”

There’s enough humor in his voice to make all the men around the table chuckle lightly.

“I can promise you things will be different now that we know he’s even crazier than we thought.” The laughs are a bit louder then. “Here’s to you being a Pirate, Sweetheart.” He raises his glass and everybody else follows suit.

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