Chapter 1

When it was announced Viktor Petanov joined the Atherton Wolves, Brady Callan's first response hadn't been something he was proud of.

He had been over at Mack's, grilling with a couple of the guys on the team, enjoying the summer, when the news broke.

Technically, he was glad they found out early.

Coach Langley had sent a message in the team group chat hours before the official announcement was made.

He had given Brady, and the rest of the team, hours to have their own private reactions.

To get out their choice words and, in Jenna's case, throw some things.

Brady was such a fan of Mack's wife.

He had wanted to throw some things too.

But yeah.

Their response had not been positive.

Brady knew he wasn't the only one who'd played against Petanov and really knew he wasn't the only one who hated playing against Petanov.

When he had first joined the Wolves, he had bonded with the other players on the team over their shared fear for the hockey monsters that were the dynamic, rival duo:

Viktor Petanov and Leo Davenport.

The guys had even started a deal.

For every goal Brady blocked from either Petanov or Davenport, they'd buy him a beer.

According to the whiteboard tally in the locker room, Brady wasn't sure he'd even ever have to pay for beer again this summer.

And now to get the news that Viktor Petanov, Rutherford's golden boy, was traded to buck-fuck-nowhere Atherton?

Mack had had his wife read the text out loud the first time.

To make it real, he had said.

Brady didn't think any of them had really believed it until Petanov was standing in their locker room, that first day back to practice.

Pet was a menace on the ice, but to see him standing in shorts and a sweatshirt - a new red one with an obnoxious Wolves mascot on the front of it - in front of an empty locker with the fresh sticker of Petanov pasted to the top, Brady couldn't help but feel like he looked small.

Not that he would call Petanov shy, because he could never, after seeing years of his behavior on the ice, call Pet shy.

But, he was nervous, maybe.

Brady didn't remember what Coach Langley had all said, but he did remember how Pet went around and shook every player's hand.

How he had called them all by name.

How he had known all their names, the positions they liked to play, and had looked them all in the eye with respect.

For the first few minutes, Brady had felt like he had stepped into an alternate reality.

One where Viktor Petanov was not a crazy hockey star, but instead a calm and focused team captain, meeting his new team where they stood.

For a minute, he had wondered if he had ever truly known the man at all.

And then Pet had seen the whiteboard.

Brady guessed they had all grown so used to it, they hadn't even thought to erase away the evidence of their views of their new Captain.

For a second, the entire room of hockey players seemed to cringe, preemptively flinching back.

But Viktor Petanov had just leaned in closer, hand still shaking Sloan' distracted, and read out loud.

"Callan' beer count:

Petanov 47, Davenport 43." His voice had been full of humor, lighter and closer to what Brady was used to on the ice.

"I love this." He had started laughing and took out his phone to take a picture.

Brady, standing next in line for a handshake noticed him quickly send it off to his top contact before he quickly pocketed his phone again.

And then it was Brady's turn, faced down with a grinning, eyes sparkling with excitement Pet.

He'd felt a little of his unease unravel at that handshake.

Pet had pulled him in slightly, still chuckling as he announced, loud enough for the whole room to hear, "I love this.

But the numbers are wrong."

"What?" Brady had managed.

What the hell was Petanov going on about?

"The numbers, the amount of blocked shots, no?" At Brady's hesitant nod, Petanov had gone on.

"You are close, yes.

But if you are counting up all games since you were the Atherton Goalie, Callan, then it should be Petanov 52 and Davenport 48."

Shocked silence had met that.

Brady could hardly process the words.

He knew Petanov was good, hell, he had to be, but for him to know this seemingly off the top of his head?

Did he know the stats of every goalie he played against?

And for Davenport too?

Petanov seemed to take pity on him at that moment.

"Ah, it's ok.

I'm still beating Davenport so that's what matters." He was still looking only at Brady when he said this, eyes both mischievous and comforting.

Brady was shocked to find himself laughing.

"Well, not sure we can keep up the count anyway.

I'm sure I'll have a lot more opportunities to block your shots in practice."

Pet had finally let go of his hand and was staring back at the whiteboard.

"Nah, let's do it.

It will make him mad when I continue winning."

Him?

Petanov had moved on to shake the next player's hand, more joyful and loose, but Brady was still stuck on his words.

Him had to mean Davenport right?

Oh my god.

This was really Viktor Petanov in front of him.

Of course he would want to antagonize Leo Davenport.

That was like, their whole thing.

Brady wasn't sure what shocked him more, the fact that he was excited to watch the score go up or that he was excited to play with Petanov, on his team.

That first meeting had set the course.