Page 42 of Shift Change

Riley shot me a look and then turned to the group. “Found lazy-ass Dog passed out in his room. Holky showed up when we were leaving. The fucking idiot had been out wandering in the snow.”

Smooth. Bald-faced lie, but smooth.

“Leave it to Holky,” Gabe said, raising an eyebrow. “Hope you didn’t get frostbite.”

Harpy gestured toward the back. “Pizza. The hotel said they’ll bring more if we need it, so get in there.”

My stomach rumbled at the mere mention of food.

Dog glanced at me. “Hungry?”

“Hell yeah. Let’s go.”

There were several kinds of pizza, a few sandwiches, and one sad, untouched bowl of salad. Off to the side, a cooler brimmed with beer bottles buried deep in ice and glistening like treasures.

Dog got there first, and I was still stacking slices on my plate when he called out, “Holky, look at this.” Wearing a big grin, he held up a bottle. “They’ve got Axe Man.”

“IPA?” I asked.

“Fuck yeah. One of the best.”

That grin—part goofy, part something I shouldn’t have been noticing in a room full of teammates—hit me square in the chest. I shifted my plate to one hand and held out the other. “Hit me.”

Dog passed me a bottle and grabbed one for himself. “Where should we sit?”

Like I gave a damn, as long as it was next to him.

“Here’s a good place,” Packy called, standing by a couch near the front. He patted the arm like he’d been waiting for us. “This one’s got your names on it.”

It struck me as weird that a prime couch was empty, but I was too hungry—and too busy trying not to stare at Dog—to question it. I nodded for Dog to go first and then followed.

As we reached the couch, Packy grinned. “Have a seat, boys. You must be worn out if Dog’s been sleeping all this time. And Holky, what the hell were you thinking, going full urban explorer during the worst blizzard this area’s had in fifty years?”

As we sat, Dog asked, “Is it really? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this much snow all at once.”

“Fifty years, that’s what the news said.” Nels, lounging on the sofa next to us, lifted his beer. “Saint Paul’s basically shut down until further notice.”

Gabe was sitting in a nearby chair. “Don’t worry, Dog. You’ll get your fill of blizzards in Buffalo.”

“Nothing like snow in Russia.” That came from behind us, and when I turned, I was surprised to see Abdulov sitting with Logan. “Sometimes is taller than me.”

Laughter erupted as everyone called bullshit and dared Abby to back it up.

“You motherfuckers see.” He stood and pulled out his phone, carefully scrolling with a thick finger. “Aha! Here. From trip to see Mamochka after her operation.”

He turned the screen toward us, and sure enough, the photo showed a mountain of snow towering over Abby. It was an amazing sight, since Abby’s a big guy—easily six-five and two-forty. That snowbank had him beat by at least half a foot.

“My boyfriend get lost in snow if I take him there,” he said casually, slipping his phone back into his pocket and heading off for another beer.

The room went quiet while we all exchanged looks.

Dog blinked. “He’s gay?”

I shrugged. Some of the guys around us followed suit, while a few others shook their heads.

Soon, the pizza was history and the beer supply had taken a serious hit. A couple of guys were drunk, and the rest of us were buzzing enough to forget we’d ever had filters. We swapped stories, rehashed our Stanley Cup win, and chirped each other so hard our stomachs ached from laughing.

Packy disappeared for a bathroom break, and when he returned, he was grinning like he’d solved world peace. “Listen up, boys. I have a brilliant idea.”

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