Page 34 of Hold the Line

Before he can spray it into his mug, I step forward and snatch the can from his hand, putting it firmly back in the fridge. Cole does not even bat an eye. He just keeps stirring his overly sweet coffee like it is completely normal for me to take things away from him. Like we have been doing this domestic dance for years instead of crashing into each other last night.

Lena, however, raises a single eyebrow, watching the whole exchange with sharp interest. Not at me taking the whipped cream away — but at the fact that Cole let me do it without a single protest. Her gaze flicks between us, calculating, and the corner of her mouth twitches like she sees far more than either of us want her to.

Cole catches the raised eyebrow from his sister and immediately goes on the defensive, turning toward her with fresh energy. “Oh, don’t even start with that look, Lena. I see you judging. Mind your own damn business for once in your life,” he snaps, pointing his spoon at her like a weapon. “You’ve been waiting for this moment since the day you met him, haven’t you? Gremlin.”

Lena grins wider, completely unbothered, kicking her legs lightly as she sits on the counter. “I’m just saying… you let him take away your whipped cream without throwing a fit. That’s practically marriage in Cole language. I’m proud of you, baby brother. Took you long enough.”

I stay quiet, leaning against the counter with my mug in hand, taking slow sips as I watch them bicker.

My phone starts vibrating in my pocket. I pull it out while Cole continues arguing with his sister, their voices filling the small kitchen with loud, familiar affection. The messages are from Elias and Damian, both asking for updates on the situation with Cole. I do not even open the full texts. I just type back a single thumbs up emoji and send it. Figure it out, you meddling shits. I slide the phone back into my pocket, the corner of my mouth twitching slightly. Let them stew for a little while longer.

Cole looks at me mid-rant, checking that I am still here, and I meet his eyes with a small, steady nod. I am not going anywhere.

I set my empty coffee mug down on the counter and speak up in the middle of their chaos. “Little birdie… can we go home now?”

The words are barely out of my mouth before Cole’s entire expression changes. The playful annoyance drains from his face, replaced by slow-rising panic that widens his eyes and makes his movements jerky. “Oh my god,” he mutters, already spinning away from the counter. “Curls is going to kill me!! Damian is going to kill me!!”

Before I can even react, he is in motion — a whirlwind of frantic energy as he starts running around the small apartment like it is on fire. He grabs random clothes off the back of the couch, shoves them into a duffel bag, nearly trips over his own feet rushing into the bedroom, and keeps muttering curses under his breath the entire time. Lena and I just stand there, watching him with matching expressions of pure bafflement. She has her mug halfway to her mouth, frozen. I lean back against the counter, unsure whether to help or simply stay out of the way of the hurricane that is Cole Vance in full panic mode.

“Why are they going to kill you?” Lena calls after him, clearly fighting back a laugh as she watches her brother tear through the apartment.

“Because I threw away my phone and ignored them for a week and a half!” Cole shouts from the bedroom, his voice slightly muffled like he is halfway inside a closet. “Well… Curls is going to kill me for that… Damian for being a brat on the ice and punching my own teammate!”

I feel the corner of my mouth twitch despite myself. The absurdity of the situation — Cole spiraling because he is suddenly worried about facing our very concerned, very meddling team — is almost endearing. Almost. I push off the counter and move toward the bedroom doorway, watching as he frantically stuffs more things into his bag.

I lean against the bedroom doorway, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice. “I mean… Kade will forgive you if we win the next game. Elias on the other hand is probably going to scold your ears off. Chop chop, Vance.”

Cole stops mid-motion and glares at me over his shoulder, those warm brown eyes narrowing into sharp slits. Without hesitation, he snatches a balled-up sock from the bed and hurls it directly at my head. It bounces harmlessly off my chest. I cannot help it — a low, genuine laugh rumbles out of me, quiet but real, the sound surprising even myself.

Cole freezes completely. He stares at me like I have grown a second head, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. The frenzy drains out of him for a moment as he stands there in the middle of the messy room, duffel bag half-packed at his feet, just watching me laugh. I know why. I do not laugh often. Not like this. Not openly. Not in front of people. But right now, with him looking so beautifully chaotic and panicked over something as simple as facing our team again, I cannot hold it back.

The silence stretches for a beat, heavy with something softer than the panic from moments ago. I tilt my head at him, still smiling faintly, and nod toward the bag. “Need help packing, soroka?”

Cole eventually finishes packing, throwing the last few things into his duffel bag before zipping it up with more force than necessary. We say a quick goodbye to Lena — she hugs her brother tightly, whispers something in his ear that makes him roll his eyes, and gives me a knowing look as we head out.

When we get downstairs to my car, I realize Cole’s red convertible is nowhere in sight. I look around the street once, frowning slightly. “How did you even get here?” I ask.

“Took a train,” Cole says casually, yanking open the passenger door of my car and shoving his duffel into the backseat.

I stare at him. “You hate trains.” He has complained about them for years — too slow, too crowded, too many people breathing his air.

Cole pauses for a second, then admits quietly, “I did not trust myself to not drive into a pole…” He throws himself into the passenger seat, slamming the door. “Chop chop, Petrov!” he huffs, trying to sound impatient even though I can hear the lingering vulnerability underneath.

I get in on the driver’s side, starting the engine without another word.

“Stop smiling… it’s unnerving,” Cole pouts from the passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest as he side-eyes me. There is no real heat in his voice, just that familiar dramatic tone that makes something warm and fond settle in my chest. I have not smiled this much in years, and apparently it is disturbing him.

I smirk instead of answering, reaching over to tap the screen of my GPS and enter the address for the closest mall. Cole does not notice at first, still muttering under his breath about how weird I am acting. Only when I turn into the parking lot and pull into a space does he sit up straighter, looking around in genuine confusion.

“Uhm… Vik… this is not home,” he says slowly, glancing between me and the mall entrance. “Did we get lost? Want me to drive?”

I turn off the engine and unbuckle my seatbelt, keeping my face carefully neutral. “You need a new phone. Come on.”

Cole blinks at me, processing the words. “I… what?” he whines, already scrambling to get out of the car and rush after me as I start walking toward the entrance. “Viktor! You can’t just— we were going home! I don’t need— wait!”

I hold the door open for him and wait until he catches up, still complaining the entire way. The small, exasperated smile stays on my face.

The second we step inside the mall, Cole pulls the hood of his oversized hoodie up over his messy curls, tugging it low like he is trying to disappear. I raise an eyebrow at him, unable to hide my amusement. “I thought you liked being noticed by people.”