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Novak, who’d been about to sit across the aisle from them, gave Everett the finger. “Just for that, I’m only passing to Baps tomorrow. You can score your own goals.”

“Rude.”

“It’s okay,” Henri said condescendingly. “I might still pass to you.”

Novak snickered. “Baps, you and I should team up. Get all the points for ourselves and win those fancy awards in Vegas at the end of the season.”

“Oh, piss off. You love it when I score. Right, Baps?”

Henri made a show of thinking about it. “The thing is, I also like when I score. It’s very satisfying.”

“I agree,” Novak said. “I also like it when Baps scores.” He held out his hand, reaching over his armrest. “No Evers goals this road trip. Deal?”

Henri shook his hand. “Deal.”

“You fuckers.” There was no bite in Everett’s voice. “How about this? If I score more than you two combined, you guys owe me a bottle of wine.”

“And if we win?” Novak asked.

Everett shrugged. “You can ask for anything you want. You’re not going to win.”

“You’re such a smug asshole, you know that?” Novak also didn’t sound at all upset. “Then buy me a fucking car.”

“I’m not buying you a car, you greedy bastard.”

“You said we couldn’t possibly win, so what does it matter?”

“It matters because it shows you’re a greedy bastard.”

“Fine. A Rolex.”

“You’re literally wearing a Rolex right now!”

If these had been any of his previous linemates, Henri would have been bored by their squabbling; it being Everett and Novak amused him. Even being between them as they bickered didn’t bother him. There was honestly nowhere else Henri would rather be than centering these two goofs.

And Henri wondered if wanting this, being on a team he genuinely enjoyed, was more dangerous than all those teams he’d mildly hated. Because with them, he’d hated the idea of being sent away more than the logistics of the reality. It would gut him to lose the Turkeys and have to start again, because he suspected more and more there would be no other place in the league for him like Albuquerque. No place he would fit half so well as he did here.

Let me keep this, he prayed. Just a little while longer…

CHAPTER 30

Henri went into Portland with the weird sort of butterflies that he associated with nerves. It took him by surprise, not because the experience was new to him, but because he’d experienced it less and less as he’s settled into his role on the Turkeys. He wasn’t always on edge, dying to prove himself.

(Well, he was, kind of, but in a much more manageable way than he’d been when he’d first flown into Albuquerque last January.)

It was a feeling that lingered after they’d arrived at the hotel, followed him through the team dinner, and made him toss and turn before falling into a dreamless sleep. Even when he woke up the next morning, he didn’t feel quite himself. He considered whether he was sick (fuck, he’d better not be sick), testing his nose and throat and stomach, feeling his lymph nodes for anything off. When he concluded that no, he was not sick, it wasn’t as much of a relief as he’d hoped it would be.

Why did he feel like his skin was crawling? Why did his stomach not want to eat the wonderful breakfast spread the hotel had put together for them? Why why why?

Practice took an edge off the strangeness he felt, enough that he thought maybe he’d gotten past it. A weird blip, maybe something leftover from the Thanksgiving party. Henri felt so much better, in fact, that when the real reason for his nerves showed up in the locker room after practice, he felt blindsided.

“Dylan!”

Henri froze in shock at hearing a female voice so fondly call Everett by his first name. While his body refused to cooperate as he bent down to untie his skates, his eyes at least would: he looked up and saw a woman wearing an oversized blue blazer, stylish black slacks, heels to rival any skates, and a t-shirt with a low v-neck. She was so stylish and confident, with her long, wavy bronze hair and ginormous sunglasses that she would’ve stolen any room.

Then she took off the glasses, tucking one end into her blazer pocket, and wow. She could be a model. Breathtaking, and the kind of presence that drew people in.

“V!” Everett, still in full gear minus his helmet, gloves, and jersey, jumped forward to greet her. He extended his arms wide for one of his signature bear hugs.