It had just sucked, registering on his radar like that only to get rejected. And now he was here. Playing on my team. On myline. Thank God it was only for his conditioning loan instead of him being down here for longer: this was already going to be the longest two weeks of my goddamned life.
I mostly pulled my head together enough to get through practice without making an ass of myself. My passes weren’t as clean as I would’ve liked, and that embarrassing flubbedattempt to shoot into awide-open netwould probably haunt my sleepless nights for years to come. Ugh.
When practice was finally over, I couldn’t get out of the building fast enough. I showered, dressed, shoved some food into my face, and got the hell out of there. Striding across the parking lot, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and glared straight ahead, ready to get the hell out of?—
“Wils!”
My nickname in his voice stopped me dead in my tracks. I turned around as Vasily came out of the building, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. I gritted my teeth, bristling as our eyes met, but I tried not to let it show. “Uh. Hey.”
“Hey.” He stopped a few feet shy of me and studied me. “We met over the summer, didn’t we?”
I wanted to snarl back that, yeah, no shit we’d met. But maybe it hadn’t been much of anything to him. I’d just been another guy he’d crossed paths with in a club. It wasn’t like he’d been into me, so why remember me after dancing and making out for less than a song? He’d probably banged half the guys in Seattle since then, so I was lucky he’d recognized me at all.
So I just coolly replied, “Yeah. At that club downtown.”
He cut his eyes away from me.
“I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said. “It wasn’t exactly my proudest moment either.”
Vasily looked at me again, eyebrows up. “What do you mean?”
I laughed humorlessly and rolled my eyes. “What am I going to tell people? ‘Hey, let me tell you about that time I thought Vasily Abashev was into me, and then he fucking rejected me and left me standing there like a dumbass!’” I scoffed, shaking my head. “Yeah, that secret’s safe with me.”
He stared at me as if he didn’t even understand what I’d said. I was pretty sure it wasn’t a language issue—he couldstumble over his English a little during interviews, but I thought that was more nerves from having cameras and microphones shoved in his face. Otherwise, he’d always seemed to speak and understand pretty effortlessly.
Maybe he didn’t remember how things had gone down that night. It was possible it was all bigger in my head than it was in reality—I’d usually handled rejection well, but admittedly, that night had stung. Probably because it washim. Because I’d stupidly let myself entertain the idea that he might want me and wouldn’t bail the second he saw something better. I didn’t even know why it bothered me so much. People got rejected in clubs all the time. I was probably just mad at myself for stupidly thinking Vasily Abashev actually wanted me. Whatever—I had no business being mad at him, myself, the world, or anything else. It just stung, so I was pissed. It was what it was.
He narrowed his eyes a little, searching mine. “Did you know who I was that night?”
I pushed out a breath through my nose. “Of course I did.”
“Why did you not tell me?”
“Tell youwhat?” I threw up my hands. “That I’m a no-name hockey player you’ve never heard of on the farm team?”
He scowled and looked away. “You’re on the farm team for the Rainiers. There was always a chance we’d play together.”
“Uh-huh. And who the fuck cares? I was on the farm team for the Aces, too, and you never noticed me then either.”
Vasily’s head snapped toward me, his eyes wide.
I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. We went to the same training camp for three years and you never noticed me. We even did drills together. But the only time I ever crossed your fucking radar was when you danced with me and made out with me and then rejected me. Now we’re stuck together for two whole weeks—you just can’t ignore me like you did at fucking training camp.”
His lips parted. “What? What are you?—”
“Don’t act like you didn’t. I was one of the lowly prospects and farm team kids, so no shit, you didn’t notice me.”
“I…” He shook himself. “Listen, I?—”
“I get it,” I growled. “You’re there to be a star, not pay attention to?—”
“Training camp is a lot of pressure for us too,” he snapped, suddenly angry. “And the last two years before I came to Seattle, I was just trying to figure out how to get through another season on the same team as the man I couldn’t make myself dump.”
That smacked me so hard, I almost had to take a step backward. “Wait, what? It was that bad for?—”
“It wasn’t great,” he gritted out. “And it was hard to play through. It was hard to just exist, never mind play hockey.With him.” Vasily shook his head. “I wasn’t ignoring you or anyone else. Did I notice you? No. I’m sorry. I didn’t.” He threw up a hand. “I was just trying to keepmyselftogether. Just like I was at the club.”
Well, fuuuck.
