Page 50 of Hold the Line

Lena grins, clearly enjoying herself. “He still has a sweet tooth, you know. I’ve seen him steal cookies from the team kitchen like a raccoon.”

Cole laughs weakly, but his thumb keeps rubbing against mine under the table, grounding both of us.

By five thirty we are loading up my car with the presents and the many containers of cookies my mother baked for everyone. The trunk fills quickly with brightly wrapped gifts and sweet-smelling tins, the cold December air biting at our faces as we work. Lena helps carry things, Cole hovers close to me, still a little quiet after everything that happened earlier, but present.

Then the argument starts over who sits in the front passenger seat.

“No, Cole… you sit with Viktor, it is okay,” my mother says warmly, already moving toward the back door. “I will sit in the back with Lena.”

Cole immediately shakes his head, looking genuinely distressed at the idea. “Ma’am… really, it’s okay. I can sit in the back.”

I stand there with Lena, both of us watching them go back and forth like it is a tennis match. My mother insists again, gentle but firm. Cole protests again, polite but stubborn. It would be funny if I were not still carrying the weight of what happened on the porch.

I step forward, and grab Cole by the back of the neck —firm enough to guide him. “Enough,” I say, steering him toward the front passenger seat. I open the door and gently sit him down inside. “You are sitting with me. End of discussion.”

Cole blinks up at me, mouth opening like he wants to argue, but he closes it again when he sees my face. I close the door, walk around to the driver’s side, and get in. My mother smiles softly as she settles in the back with Lena, and Lena gives me a knowing little grin in the rearview mirror.

The car is quiet for a moment as I start the engine, but Cole’s hand finds mine on the gear shift almost immediately, squeezing once. I squeeze back, letting the warmth of his touch settle some of the storm still lingering in my chest.

Ican feel Viktor pulling away again.

It's subtle — the way his hand leaves mine a little sooner than it should when we park, the way his shoulders tense just slightly as we walk up to Damian and Elias’s house, the way his eyes keep drifting somewhere distant even when I try to catch them. After everything that happened at his mother’s place, I can feel him retreating back behind those old walls. It makes my chest ache in a way I don't know how to fix. I want to grab him and hold on tight, to tell him I am not going anywhere, but I don't know if he will let me right now.

We pull up at Damian and Elias’s house at exactly 5:55. Thank God we are not late. I know Damian would have actually made us run laps around his house in the snow if we were. The thought almost makes me smile, but the knot in my stomach keeps it from fully forming.

Elias opens the door wide before we even reach the porch, already fussing over everyone like a golden retriever on a mission. “You’re here! Come in, come in, it’s freezing out there! Marina, it is so good to finally meet you — Viktor has told us so much. Cole, you look like you need hot chocolate immediately. Lena, hi! Mats and Shane are already here causing trouble in the kitchen.”

He pulls Viktor’s mother into a gentle hug, then does the same to Lena, and wraps me in one of those bone-crushing best-friend hugs that always makes me feel a little more grounded. Viktor gets a clap on the shoulder and a knowing look, but Elias doesn't push. He never does when he senses something is off.

Inside, the house smells like cinnamon, pine, and whatever amazing thing Damian is cooking. Shane and Mats are already in the living room, arguing loudly about something while music plays in the background. Shane spots us first and immediately lights up.

“Hollywood! Petrov! You made it without getting murdered by Zara! Miracle of Christmas!”

I force a grin, but my eyes keep drifting back to Viktor, who is quietly introducing his mother to everyone with that careful, protective energy he gets when he is worried.

I peel myself away from Viktor’s side — mostly because I need something to do with my hands before I start spiraling again — and go help Elias set the table. We pass Damian in the kitchen, who is still cooking with that intense focus he brings to everything. He grunts in greeting, not even looking up from the stove.

“Hi, Coach,” I grin at him, grabbing a stack of plates from the counter.

Damian just grunts again, the corner of his mouth twitching like he is fighting a smile. Elias rolls his eyes fondly at his husband and keeps moving, chatting about everything and nothing as we set the long dining table. The familiarity of it helps a little. The clink of plates, the smell of food, Elias’s constant stream of commentary — it feels like home.

In the next five minutes the rest of the team trickles in, and the house goes from cozy to gloriously loud. Shane is already telling some ridiculous story at full volume, Mats is laughing, the rookies are wide-eyed and trying to keep up. Viktor has found a quiet corner with Roman and his mother, the three of them talking softly in Russian. I watch them for a second, my heart doing that stupid flip it always does when I see him relaxed like that, then I stick myself firmly to Elias’s side like a barnacle.

Elias, Jace, and I end up making a couple of quick TikToks in the living room — silly ones with the Christmas lights in the background, Jace doing some ridiculous dance move that makes us all lose it. I post one before I can overthink it, grinning at the screen as the likes start coming in.

Right after I hit post, Elias pulls me closer, arm slung around my shoulders in that easy way of his. “You good, Hollywood?” he asks.

I consider telling him. Really telling him — about Viktor’s father showing up, about the panic, about how I can feel Viktor pulling away again even though he is right here in the same house. But it is Christmas Eve. I don't want to ruin dinner for everyone. So I flash him my best Hollywood grin instead.

“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be okay, Curls?” I say, bumping my shoulder against his.

Elias studies me for a second, but he lets it go with a small nod and a squeeze to my shoulder. “Alright. But I’m here if you need to talk. Always.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, and lean into him for just a second longer. Across the room, Viktor glances over at me, our eyes meeting for a brief moment before he looks away again. The ache in my chest gets a little sharper.

Dinner starts and the house explodes into beautiful, glorious noise again, just the way I like it. The kind of loud that fills every corner and makes my own head shut the fuck up for a little while. Plates are passed, food is piled high, stories are told at full volume, and laughter bounces off every wall. It's perfect chaos. Exactly what I needed.

Elias, Shane, a couple of the rookies, and I end up at one end of the long table playing drinking games like the responsible adults we definitely are not. Shane is already three shots in and making up ridiculous rules that have us all dying laughing. “If you score on your own goalie in the next game, you drink twice!” he declares, and Elias nearly spits out his drink. I'm grinning so hard my cheeks hurt, slamming my glass down and chirping right back at them.