Chapter 3

Instead of shock and thousands of questions, there was laughter. Wyatt squeezed his shoulder. "Manifest it."

Mischa had to look that up later. And then had Dexter explain it to him. And then had to listen to Dexter laugh at his misfortune.

(Baxter Vance)

Mischa had always loved playing in Drakeshire. Even now, as the entire stadium booed his entrance, Mischa felt his blood buzzing in his veins.

The city for sure hated him now. They had been burning his old jersey as he had walked into the stadium. He had stopped to take a selfie to send to Dexter and post on his Prism story. He knew Mercer would love that.

It was fun playing against his former teammates too. The team had changed slightly since his days but the core players, the men he knew in and out, were still there. Most of them probably hated him too. Mischa didn't have the chance to interact with most of them off the ice anymore, but the fresh bruises he always sported after their games told him enough.

Baxter Vance was the only one who remained cool. They still texted occasionally and went out for drinks when they were in the same city.

Mischa figured Baxter might get it. Sure, Dallas Cole was an old senile man and apparently had a broken gaydar (another word Mischa had learned recently from Prism). And sure, maybe he could understand why his team, who he joked with constantly, wouldn't immediately believe him, but Vance was different. Mischa knew where he could start with him.

He really had some explaining to do. But at least with Vance he had proof. (The fact that he apparently needed proof that he was dating Dexter was baffling).

So Mischa just had to stick to his plan and this time he would go slowly. Really lay things out for Vance.

After a fast paced game, where the ThunderHawks lost but at least Mischa had scored a hat trick, he was excited to meet up at Vance's favorite bar afterwards.

"You sure know how to pick them." Vance gestured to Fletcher, Souther and Vance singing on the karaoke stage. Very badly. In fact, Mischa was sure he should use a word other than 'singing' to describe what was happening in front of him.

"Pick who?" Mischa fought back a full body cringe as Fletcher attempted a high note. Usually this bar was a lot of fun. Vance never made him sing, though they often ended up on the stage after a few drinks. But there weren't usually three other hockey players who had tagged along with Mischa, following him like a lost duckling. Whichever one of them had decided a Rihanna song was a feasible pick was going to be staying late at the next practice for making Mischa deal with this.

Vance gestered with his hand holding the mostly empty beer. "They seem great. Not half bad on ice, either."

Mischa felt the warmth of the compliment sink into him. They were already on their third drinks and he was beginning to feel sappy. Maybe this would be it.

"I know. They are good. I have good taste." He struggled through muddy thoughts for a moment. "You know that." Was all he could come up with in English.

"Life been treating you well, Roz?" Vance leaned in closer, further away from the chaos on stage.

Mischa nodded, brain whirling. How to bring this up? "Yes, it's not Drakeshire, but Silverpine is also good." Better, but he couldn't tell Vance that. Wait, yes he could. That was the whole point of tonight.

Before he could backtrack, "You surviving without Dexter?" came the teasing remark from Vance.

Mischa sat up much too quickly. Here, here was his chance. "Dexter? Dexter is good. We are good."

Vance raised an eyebrow. "Ya'll are still doing the couple times a season thing? Jeez, it's been years at this point."

Over ten years, yes. Mischa shook his head. "No. Well, yes." He forced himself to take a deep breath. To slow down. "We are together. Like, for real." He pulled out his necklace from where it was tucked under his shirt and ran his thumb over the ring strung on it.

"Holy shit." Vance stared back at him, the multicolored lights shadowing half of his face in a rainbow of colors.

"We are still long distance, sometimes. During season." Mischa paused, waiting. Taking his time.

"That's rough dude. But holy fuck, engaged? Roz. This is amazing." Vance reached out and pulled him into an awkward half hug over the bar table. "And to think, I've never even met her."

Mischa felt a chill. Yet, he forced himself to still say. "Yes you have. Met."

Vance pulled back and Mischa was treated to an up close look of his very confused face. "Roz, you have never introduced me to Dexter."

Mischa couldn't help the nervous giggle. "No. You right. But you know Dexter." Now here was the difficult part. "Dexter is not Dexter."

"Roz, what?" The song changed in the background, this time his drunk teammates attempting a Katy Perry song.

"Dexter's name is not Dexter. That fake."

Vance took a sip of his drink before asking, "Why didn't you just tell me her name then?"

Mischa's cheeks grew warm. "It secret. Us. The relationship. No one was supposed to know."

"Wow." Vance leaned back. "Why would it be a secret? You're Mischa Dragunov!"

"Yes. That why." Mischa twisted his fingers together. "Our jobs would not be happy."

"Your jobs? Hockey? And whatever the hell she does?"

"Dexter also has hockey problem." A deep breath, then, "Hockey would be fine with Mischa Dragunov dating Dexter. Dating her. But Dexter is not her. Hockey would not be fine with Mischa Dragunov dating him."

Mischa counted his breaths as he watched Vance blink slowly. "Shit, Roz. That's not fair." A breath, and then Mischa was being pulled back into Vance's arms.

"No, no it not fair." Mischa breathed into Vance's neck.

His former teammate squeezed him once more, tight, then pulled back. "Wait, does Dexter work for Vauxhall?"

Mischa couldn't help the slightly manic laughter that escaped him. "Yes."

Vance's answering hoot of laughter washed over him. "Oh lord. Yeah. Hockey really won't like that." It took a long moment before the two of them could stop laughing. "Roz, thank you for telling me. About him."

Mischa waited a further moment, "No questions?"

"Jesus Roz, give me a minute. I'm having to rewrite years of interactions in my head here." Vance finished his beer but didn't make a move to grab another one. "With this whole thing being secret, I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me something you both wouldn't be comfortable with."

Mischa nodded slowly. "It was his idea. That I tell people. People who I trust."

"Jesus. How long is this going to remain a secret to everyone else then?" Vance's gaze was so pitiful it made Mischa feel sick.

"We will tell people. The world. At some point." Mischa was quick to protest. "This is start."

"Woah, hey. I didn't mean it that way. Just, Roz, jesus. This is a lot."

Mischa had a fleeting thought that it was about to get "a lot" more. "Dexter said the same thing. Is the reason this is secret."

"Dexter? Kingsley? Shit, he knows about this too?"

Mischa pressed his hand tight against his leg. Here it goes. "Dexter is him. Dexter."

"Dexter is friends with Dexter? I mean, yeah, if Dexter works for Vauxhall, he's bound to know Kingsley."

"Dexter is Dexter." Mischa didn't know how he could say this any clearer. Distinctly he heard the cheering as his teammates finally exited the stage. He had maybe twenty seconds to finish this.

"Sure. Secrecy. I get it." Vance was nodding. "Look man, you don't have to tell me who he is."

Mischa could hear Fletcher's laughter getting closer. How was Vance not getting this? "I am telling you secret. This whole time it's been Dexter."

"Roz, it's nice Kingsley's been able to help you keep this secret all these years. That's a real, decent thing of him to do."

"Vance. I love Dexter." Mischa was back to whispering, his teammates seconds away.

"Yeah, he's a good guy." Vance was nodding along, like he and Mischa were in agreement here.