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Normally, I would like the sound of that. But as my gaze moves by its own accord to Nikolai waiting by the door, going home with some mystery woman doesn’t really sound like something I want to do at all.

I shrug off the thought. Maybe I’ll change my mind after I meet her. If she’s someone Ryan knows, chances are, she’s incredibly hot.

Nikolai

Since it’s a Tuesday and Mickey’s, while a sports bar, is pretty hockey-centric, the place is kind of quiet. Which is fine by me. Sometimes when we come here, particularly during the season, being surrounded by everyone can be overwhelming. Too much noise. People too close in proximity. And it’s too hard to understand everyone at once.

That last part has gotten better over the ten years I’ve lived in the United States and Canada. When I first arrived at eighteen, I could barely speak a word, and the AHL team I was playing for wouldn’t hire a translator. I had to rely on my only Russian teammate to help me out, but he’d only been there for a year longer, so his English wasn’t much better than mine.

But over the years I’ve figured it out and have gotten much better at speaking and understanding it. Last year, around the time our team started going on our miracle run to make the playoffs, I even started having the occasional dream in English. That’s what people say is the sign that you’ve become fluent. When it stays with you in your sleep. Waking after the first time it happened was a surprise. But a very welcome one.

“Nuh uh.” Ryan’s friend Nicole wags her finger at Ander from behind the bar when we enter. “That one can’t be in here.”

Ander looks affronted. “I’m not leaving him alone outside,” he says, pointing at Shutzie which he has cradled in one arm.

“I wasn’t talking about the dog,” Nicole says as she leans over the bar and accepts a kiss on the cheek from Ryan.

Nicole is a beautiful woman. Medium height. Trim athletic body. Thick blonde hair. For the longest time I assumed she and Ryan were together. But that all changed when Brandon arrived. Suddenly it became very clear that Nicole wasn’t at all what Ryan was into. But she definitely looks like someone Ander could be into. He’s trying not to be obvious that he’s checking her out. A bit coy perhaps with his quick glances, but failing to hide his intrigue.

“How dare you bring the goalie who ruined my chances of hosting the Stanley Cup at this bar,” she says when she pulls away.

“Don’t worry,” Ryan says. “We’ll be bringing it here next summer.”

“The fuck you will.” Ander laughs. “That cup is staying with the Blizzards.” He gives his full, unguarded attention to Nicole. “Let me know if you want me to get you a job at our bar in Buffalo.” He winks after he says it.

At least I think it was a wink. But if I’m being honest, it looked like more of a hard blink. I look away. Watching Ander flirt is somehow more awkward than watching Ryan and Brandon pretend they weren’t into each other as we wrapped up last season.

“I will go find us table outside,” I say, turning around to do exactly that.

“Wait for me.” Brandon hustles to my side. Once away from the others, he says, “I can’t bear to watch my brother humiliate himself right now.”

“I am sure he will do fine.” I shrug.

Brandon looks at me with a stone face. “There’s a reason why he’s still single.”

I pull a metal patio chair out from one of the tables tucked under the open windows of the bar, but away from the door and take a seat. “And why is that?”

Brandon sits across from me. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my brother,” he says. “But he’s a lot. You know?”

“I am aware,” I say. “This is family trait.”

“This is not a family trait!” Brandon exclaims.

“Okay,” I say, subtly tipping my head at him while poorly suppressing a smile.

“It’s not!”

“Whatever it isn’t,” Ryan says, stepping up to the table with three bottles of beer held between the fingers of one hand and Ander’s dog in the other, “it is.”

Brandon grabs one of the beers. “Of course you two gang up on me.”

Ryan hands me a bottle. “I just know that whenever you use that tone of voice to deny something, whatever was said is almost always spot on.”

“I hate you,” Brandon grumbles and grabs Shutzie from Ryan’s hand to place on his lap.

“No, you don’t.” Ryan leans over his chair to gently ruffle Brandon’s hair.

A smile returns to Brandon’s face. “Fine. I don’t. But that still doesn’t change the fact that being”—he pauses and brings two fingers up to either side of his head—“‘a lot’ isn’t a family trait.”