Chapter 3
A quiet settled over Braden's mind as he continued looking at Maxim, the Karpathian man's expression open and kind and supportive.
As he continued to look into those beautiful eyes that he loved so much, Braden heard Maxim take a deep inhale, motioning for Braden to do the same until they were both standing across from each other breathing deeply, Maxim not even having to touch him to calm him down, but still finding a way to do so anyways.
Once he felt like his heart had stopped jack rabbiting in his chest, Braden steeled himself, turning his gaze towards Haverhill's end of the ice, eyes taking in the sight of his former team, some who turned away as soon as he made eye contact, some who glared at him with open disgust, and two who looked as uncomfortable as he had ever seen them, skating towards center ice as soon as their eyes locked.
"Go," Maxim urged after a moment of hesitation from Braden, pushing on Braden's back to get him moving.
"They are your friends.
Let them do their job."
"Mon ami," Remi smiled sadly as the trio neared each other, the boos picking up with fervour around them, the Vallois man hesitating for just a moment before putting his arms around Braden and pulling him against his chest, Devon doing the same a moment later.
"I hate seeing you on the other end of the ice."
"Feels weird, that's for sure," Braden admitted, taking a look at Devon and noticing the dim light behind his eyes.
"The guys giving you shit?"
"Eh.
Don't worry about it." Looking away for a second, Braden followed Devon's gaze to the other side of the zone where Derek Stratton was glaring daggers at them, a left winger who had played for Haverhill for years and who had always resented Braden for coming out, never once stopping his homophobic remarks in the dressing room or on the ice.
"You don't need to protect me anymore," Braden mumbled when Devon turned back to him, flicking his gaze to Remi and noting that he was also watching Derek with a wary look.
"Unless...maybe you do?"
"Just...keep your head up if you end up on the ice at the same time," Devon replied quietly, his head dipping as he did.
"I know I haven't always been supportive of you and Orlov, but apparently that's nothing compared to how some of the other guys feel.
Leaving Haverhill they can apparently tolerate.
Dating Maxim Orlov...not so much."
"Yeah, well." If Devon's words surprised him, Braden didn't let it show, not after the first however many games of the season had passed and he had seen this exact thing play out time and time again.
Most players didn't care or at least didn't outwardly say anything, some players were supportive and had come up to them both to say something kind during warmups, and some players cared a heck of a whole lot—and not in a good way.
"I will say," Remi broke the silence after a moment, his gaze tracking Maxim back in the Blaze end who was chirping Chase for letting his goal in, "that it is kind of insane that you and Orlov are on the same team.
It's weird to see it in front of my eyes."
Braden smirked but didn't say anything, turning to follow Remi's gaze and smiling as Maxim and Reed jostled near the net, grins on both of their faces even when Maxim came out on top and passed the puck to Kai who only just missed the net with his shot attempt, the trio laughing easily.
There was truth to what Remi was saying though, even Braden could admit that.
Ten games into the season and the Blaze had only lost twice, once in a shootout against LA the week prior and once in a 1-0 game where Chase had been too far out of position and missed a deflection.
It was still early, still 72 games to go—including tonight's—but right now the Blaze were first in the league, and Braden was damn proud of that fact.
(He'd never admit to being jealous that Maxim had more points than him though, but only because he was so damn proud of his husband. 31 years old and still on the top of his game and on top of the league.
Fuck he loved his husband
"I wish we could just get this game over with," Braden admitted after another beat had passed, taking a deep breath and turning back to the pair.
"Captain Cascadia does not want to play hockey?
?" Remi fake gasped in his thick accent, placing a hand on his chest and giggling brightly when Braden shoved him, shaking his head all the while.
"Whaaaat?" Devon chimed in, a little twinkle in his eye for the first time that night.
"You don't feel like getting booed for 2.5 hours?
Dude, that's craaaaazy!"
"Right?
What was I thinking?" Braden laughed mirthlessly, looking down at the ice and noting how strange it was that his uniform was a different colour.
"Can't imagine why."
"We are still good for dinner after, yes?" Remi asked in Vallois to seemingly change the topic, smiling sadly when Braden nodded in confirmation.
"Will your husband be coming too?"
"He doesn't have to," Devon muttered at the same time Braden said "we're kind of a package deal," the pair making eye contact and both huffing a laugh.
At least some things hadn't changed.
"I should go finish warming up," Braden said eventually, rolling his neck and noting belatedly that a good number of Monarchs were watching the three of them, though none made a move to approach.
"Though maybe you don't want me to so you still have a chance of winning?"
"Oh fuck you!" Remi and Devon cried out in unison, shoving Braden back who laughed genuinely as he began to skate away, crossing back into the Blaze zone with a soft wave at his two closest friends, not missing the glare his former coach directed his way as he did.
"How did it go?" Maxim asked as Braden returned, his face carefully neutral, though his eyes were awash with a million unasked questions.
"It was good," Braden admitted, voice careful to disguise the hurt he felt that no one else from his former team had bothered to skate over.
"Thank you for making me go."
"Always,
Now go take some shots on Doctor Donovan, we need to win tonight!"
Ten minutes later, Braden sat horrified in his stall as Coach Langston read out the starting lineup—his name included—Kai and Jake to stand on either side of him, with Lindholm and Larsen rounding out the five.
Good god, the Haverhill crowd was going to eat him alive.
As if he could sense Braden's rising panic, Coach Langston turned to face him, squaring his shoulders and raising his head, almost like he was preparing to argue with a small child.
"The way I see it, Braden, we have two options," Coach declared sternly, though his tone was kind.
"Either we let Haverhill walk over you for the rest of the night, or we face it head on and put you where you belong: on center ice with your teammates who love you.
Now I'd really like to keep you in the starting lineup, but I won't force you.
The decision is yours."