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For dinner with old friend

Nope

I’ll make reservations at the nice place by our hotel

It’s only a few blocks from the rink

You are being difficult

By offering to make a reservation?

During the only time I’m available?

We’re in town for less than 48 hours

I’m willing to have dinner at 11 pm when I’ve traveled the day before and am traveling the next day

Tell me how I’m the difficult one here

Send address we will be there

Don’t invite anyone else along this time

Fine

CHAPTER 49

Henri didn’t want to go to Chicago.

Nothing against the city itself. It was a great city, with a beautiful skyline and amazing food. Granted, it wasn’t his favorite place to be in January, but Henri was no stranger to winter; he could handle snow and cold. He’d had some good games in Chicago (and some less than stellar ones), but he’d never held his performance against any particular arena.

But Chicago was the only city in the league that had Alexei Sokolov.

Henri shouldn’t care. Alexei Sokolov was nothing to him. He was a competent center, and that was it.

Except he’s also the only other center in the league who’s had their cock in Dylan’s mouth.

Right. There was that.

Henri and the Turkeys had already played against the Storm this season, and the stakes had been clear. For the team, it’d been sticking it to the guy who left; for Henri, it’d been his chance to show he was on the same level as Sokolov. It had been straightforward enough, a very hockey storyline that had been played out a hundred times before.

Now it was murkier. Nothing had changed for the Turkeys. They wanted to win against a divisional rival because they needed the points, and also, fuck Sokolov. For Henri…

He desperately wanted to believe that no one was comparing him and Sokolov. That Dylan wasn’t comparing them. And maybe that was true, but Henri was paying attention. Henri was worried about how he’d measure up.

And he knew, absolutely knew, Sokolov was doing the same.

God, he hated that guy. He hadn’t much liked him before back in November when they’d gotten drinks in Albuquerque, but that was when he was mostly a hockey-shaped hole in Dylan’s life. Now that Henri had gotten a firsthand look at the fallout of Sokolov’s departure, the nuke he’d set off in Dylan’s life after years of questionable behavior, he was inclined to loathe Sokolov.

Had beating LA in their own arena felt good? Yes, it had. He would trade that and his hat trick and all his other points this season to embarrass the crap out of Sokolov in Chicago tomorrow night. Not only have the Turkeys win, but let Henri help twist the knife into Sokolov’s back.

If there were any hockey gods out there, Henri hoped they were on his side for once. They hadn’t been too kind to him the past few years, so he figured he was due.

“You seem nervous.” Novak sat across the aisle from him on the plane. Henri appreciated that it was assumed the empty seat to his right was for Dylan. “Don’t be. The Storm ain’t shit.”

“The standings disagree. They sit at second in the Central Division, and we’re fighting for a Wildcard.”

Novak made a face. “I forgot you’re one of those.”