Page 97 of Scoring Position

Ryan Wright: Rook to A5.

Nico smiled automatically.

“Kolyasha?”

“Sorry, Mama. Just distracted by a text that came in.” He tried to school his features, to look adult, responsible.

“You know you can tell me anything,solnyshkuh.” That was dirty play;little sunhad been her preferred term of endearment for him as a child. “What did Ryan say?”

He should have known he couldn’t keep anything from her. “He’s just making a move,” he answered. “Chess.”

If his mother understood the subtext, she didn’t let on. “You don’t go easy on him, Kolya.”

Nico smiled wider. “I won’t.”

Orcas Lock Playoff Spot

Cassandra MacTavish

March 28

With last night’s decisive 5–2 win over Edmonton, the Vancouver Orcas have secured a spot in the Pacific Division playoff matchups.

The remaining games of the season will determine who they play first round, but the current standings have them matched with Vegas.

Though they are unlikely to take the President’s Trophy (Colorado is a win away from securing that prize), odds makers already have the Orcas as the favorite for this year’s Campbell Bowl. They’re 3–1 against Colorado so far this season, and we like those numbers.

TEXTS BETWEENRyan and Nico led to picture messages—a shot of Gabby at a hockey tournament with a trophy the same size she was, a picture of the Vancouver skyline—but with the grind of the last regular-season games hitting them both, they didn’t progress to real conversation or phone calls.

Then, one Saturday evening in April, when the Fuel were done for the year, Ryan sent a picture of Kitty and Katja surrounded by pink, yellow, green, and white balloons and party decorations. A banner over their heads read Congratulations on Your New Kitten! The handwriting looked familiar, but Nico was willing to bet that the sparkles and the drawing of the kitten were Gabby’s work.

Ryan sent a short text.Kitty got so drunk he almost fell on me.

Nico video called him. “Aren’t baby showers afternoon events?” Germans didn’t really have showers, not like Americans, but he’d spent enough time in North America to be pretty sure they were kind of like a kid’s birthday party but thrown for adults.

“Oh God, it was a disaster.” Ryan was shirtless and standing in the kitchen at Nico’s place. “So it turns out Russians don’t have baby showers because it’s bad luck to buy baby stuff before the birth. Jenna had planned the whole thing as a surprise, so she didn’t know until the last minute when Yorkie got a text from, I think, Dante Baltierra or Gabe Martin, because Kitty had mentioned it to them. So like five minutes before Kitty and Katja arrived, we had to hide all the presents and pretend it was just a party to celebrate them having a baby.”

Nico fought the urge to laugh. That sounded about par for the course for the Fuel’s season—plenty of good intentions, botched oversight, and a whole lot of flubbed execution. “So what happened to the gifts?”

“Let’s just say Yorkie’s guest bedroom looks like a Babies R Us threw up in there.” He shook his head. “Did you know people make diaper cakes? Like a multitiered wedding cake, but with diapers.”

“That’s fucked-up.”

“I’m saying!” He dropped into his usual seat at the kitchen table, allowing Nico a glimpse of their chess board in the background.

“And then you got Kitty drunk.”

“He’s going to be a dad,” Ryan said as though this was the only answer anyone could give. “Of course we got him drunk.”

“What was I thinking?” Though really,that, at least, Nico understood. Taking the new dad out to get him wasted was a tradition that spanned many cultures. He was about to ask how the rest of the party had gone when Ryan broke in.

“Wait—you’re wearing the shirt!”

Nico’s ears heated. Hopefully the flush wouldn’t be visible over video. The shirt had arrived in the mail a few days ago, and Nico had responded by taking a picture of the graphic on the front—a cartoon otter holding a pride flag in its mouth—and sending Ryan the most judgmental gifs he could find.

“It’s the only thing clean,” Nico lied. Of course he was wearing the shirt… in the privacy of his bedroom. He wasn’t about to wear it to practice, not least because the guys would not get it. Nico did not want to explain it or, worse, be present when they asked the internet what an otter was. Lord knows what ideas they would get.

“Right,” Ryan said, cheeky. “I believe you.”

---