Page 128 of No Line Change

Henri expected nothing to change in the second period. He assumed Sokolov would keep up what he maybe considered playful coverage of Dylan, and he and Novak would do their best on what was essentially a 4-on-4 shift.

At the face-off, Henri nodded first to Novak, then Dylan before he squared up against Sokolov. He assumed another easy win because Sokolov didn’t care about face-offs today.

He assumed wrong.

Sokolov looked at him while they waited for the ref. If Henri was supposed to feel intimidated, he didn’t. He was unimpressed with Sokolov’s behavior lately, and less so with his hockey tonight. As far as Henri was concerned, he’d taken himself out of the game for the trade-off of taking Dylan out of it too.

“Педик,” Sokolov sneered with such malice Henri was taken aback. It was quiet enough for no one else to hear, but clearly loud enough he wanted Henri to. But then why say it in Russian?

“Huh?”

Sokolov just smiled. “You having fun tonight, Педик?” Louder this time, like Henri’s interest gave him permission to be louder. There was a snicker from another Russian player on the Storm. Henri knew he was being insulted—words really could be felt, even with the meaning unknown—but had no idea how.

“You aren’t invited to dinner tonight,” Sokolov added as the ref came over. “Just me and Dylan.” He winked and bent over for the face-off.

“Of course,” Henri said as he too bent down. “Педик.”

Henri won the face-off. Alexei looked so red, choking on anger. Whatever had drawn him to Dylan like a magnet before, Henri got the impression he was the new target of Sokolov’s ire. Sokolov looked like he desperately wanted to knock Henri flat on his ass, and it was only the very conspicuous lack of a puck that stopped him. Of course, that meant the next time Henri had the puck, he could expect a hit courtesy of an angry Russian.

Great, he thought as he tried to concentrate on the game. If it happens, it happens. Just play the fucking game.

When it was Sokolov who got the puck a few seconds later, Henri felt a momentary surge of relief. If Sokolov had possession, that meant no bruises for Henri. It was enough that he found he wasn’t backchecking as aggressively as he probably should, given how much of a threat Sokolov could be. He had nearly talked himself into sprinting forward to try for a poke check when it turned out there was absolutely no need for him to get involved: Dylan swooped in and did it for him.

Dylan’s hit upended Sokolov, sending him somersaulting onto the ice and causing his helmet to go flying. Dylan didn’t break his stride, as if knocking the 220-pound Russian on his ass was the easiest thing in the world. He scooped up the puck and was off. He looked more like his 20-year-old self, all wild speed and the absolute confidence that he was the best player in the building with no one but himself to stand in his own way. It was really sexy.

And while Dylan was giving everyone a look at Prime Everett, Sokolov just sat there on the ice looking dazed. Unable to play without his helmet, by the time he’d collected the yellow helmet and put it back on, Dylan had already scored.

“It’s beautiful, right?” Novak asked him later on the bench. He pulled Dylan in for a noogie. “Soks poked the bear, and the bear poked back.”

It was a fair assessment. Dylan had kept his temper in check despite his obvious frustration, and it had only benefited Sokolov. As soon as he’d had enough, Dylan showed why he was still considered one of the top players in the league…and why Sokolov’s name usually wasn’t brought up on its own.

What had been the tipping point?

The reason was never clear, but Prime Everett stayed for the rest of the game. He didn’t put up any more goals, but he got three assists in the Turkey’s decisive 6-2 win over the Storm.

(And as an added bonus that probably only Novak and Henri noticed and appreciated, Sokolov earned zero points and was a -3.)

“Drinks on me, babes!” Dylan said in the locker room, his voice barely audible over the chatter. Everyone erupted in cheers after that, and Henri felt a kernel of hope that maybe Dylan would cancel his plans with Sokolov and stay with them instead. But Dylan wouldn’t look at him, and he knew. He knew despite everything, he would still be leaving them for Alexei Sokolov.

Nover (January 2024)

wtf Dylan you say you’ll buy us a round and you’re not here with the team?

Dylan

I told the bartender to put everything on my tab

DO NOT ABUSE MY CREDIT CARD

Fuck off I can buy my own drinks

This isn’t about the fucking money

That was a big win last night and you’re off with fucking sokolov aren’t you

I’m meeting his fiancee chill bro

Is this why baps looked like a kicked puppy on the drive back to the hotel?