His jaw clenches. It’s never too late. He’s got time to prove he’s worth keeping. After all, he’s got no more distractions.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“… Look, we all know Nevada’s gonna make playoffs. At this point in the season, that’s not in doubt. The question is, will they crash out in round one like they did last year? Quite frankly, I wouldn’t put it past them.”
“The way they’re looking right now, I wouldn’t either—with so many rookies on the team, they’re starting to struggle with the pace of a full NHL season. I just don’t know if they have it in them to go all the way to the final round.”
“Exactly. Making the cut is only half a battle.”
“I’m wondering if they should’ve made bigger moves before the trade deadline.”
“I bet they’re regretting giving Tiernan that NTC. If they could shift his salary, that would give them a huge amount of funds to play with, pull in some veteran talent to keep the team steady through a long playoff run. And I don’t know what’s crawled up that kid’s ass this week, but he isnot playing like a cup contender, and he sure as hell isn’t playing like a veteran captain.”
“That’s for sure. He’d better get it together before the end of the season, or Nevada is really going to struggle when the pace picks up.”
“They’d better hope that playing Quebec tomorrow is the wake-up call he needs.”
—Hockey Night Live, March 5th, 2023
Last time the Dragons played against the Orignaux, Nick spent the time leading up to the game in a constant state of agitation, biting the head off of anyone who dared ask him if he wasdoing okay, and vehemently ignoring his phone because all his social media feeds were full of non-stop questions he didn’t want to answer. His stomach was so knotted up he’d thought he might give himself an ulcer.
This time, he feels much the same, but for entirely different reasons.
He’s barely had time to process the breakup with Matt—can he even call it a breakup, if they were never officially a couple?—before he’s on a plane to Quebec, his teammates eyeing him warily any time someone mentions who their next opponents are. He’d rather they think he’s surly over facing Connor than suspect anything else is going on.
If there’s one thing Nick knows how to do, it’s focus on hockey when his heart feels like it’s been ripped to shreds in his chest. Yet, somehow, this time feels different. He’s not going to torture himself by contemplating why.
It’s snowing when they land, which delights half the team and aggravates the rest. Nick has always felt a sense of peace coming to Quebec City after his time in the Q, even though Val d’Or is technically closer to Ottawa. It feels like home the same way playing at Madison Square Garden does.
They get the bus together to the hotel, but all Nick does is drop off his bag and use the bathroom—then he’s putting his coat back on and checking his phone.
“Sure you don’t wanna come with? Conn won’t mind,” he says to Marco, who shakes his head.
“Nah. I’ll hang with you guys tomorrow after the game,” he promises. “Let you have your family time.”
“Dude, youarefamily,” Nick protests, but he lets it slide.
He heads to the lobby to wait. The snow has died down, but there’s still a solid layer on the ground outside, glowing in the streetlights. Nick eyes it wistfully; six years in Vegas, and he still misses snow.
“Wow, and you gave me shit for what I drive,” are the first words out of Nick’s mouth when Connor steps out of his enormous dark gray truck.
“That’s because what you drive is ridiculous,” Connor retorts without missing a beat. He pulls Nick into a solid hug. “Good to see you, Nicky.” They part, and Connor grins. “Get in the truck. You look like you’re going to freeze.”
“Asshole.” It’s been a while since he experienced a Quebec winter. No need to rub it in.
Connor turns out to live about ten minutes from the rink, not far from the waterfront. It’s a beautiful little house, and Nick wishes it weren’t so dark; Amy would love pictures.
Upon stepping inside, Nick finds his feet rooted to the floor.
Connor’s parents are here.
“Hi, Nick,” Marie says softly, standing in the hallway at her husband’s side. Nick hasn’t seen her in… God, at least four yearsnow. She and George had come to a couple of his away games, back in his early days, but he was still so bitter after they all but forced him to switch billet families when Connor left the Q that Nick hadn’t tried very hard to keep in touch.
“Surprise,” George adds, waving. He, at least, Nick has seen semi-regularly; he’s still active in all the older hockey circles, popping up at NHL events here and there. “Hope you don’t mind us crashing your evening plans, but when Connor said you were coming over…”
Nick shakes his head, crossing the distance between them to gather both of them in a hug, almost choking on the familiar scent of Marie’s perfume. “Missed you guys,” he murmurs, feeling them hug him tighter.
Nick pulls back when the hug’s gone on for a little longer than is probably considered normal, but they don’t seem any more eager to break it. He peers around, looking for a face he’s only ever seen in pictures. “I thought Théo was joining us tonight?”
