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The Montreal Metros beat the Boston Bears on a Friday night in the kind of game sports commentators liked to call “a statement victory”, mostly because none of them had enough imagination to come up with another phrase for two teams trying to legally murder each other on ice for two and a half hours.
Hayden Pike loved statement victories.
Mostly because he loved winning.
Partly because he loved watching Boston lose.
And specifically because he loved watching Ilya Rozanov lose.
Rozanov had spent the entire game skating around like a chaotic hurricane with expensive hair, chirping at everyone in a thick Russian accent while somehow still scoring a goal and smiling through an illegal amount of blood on his lip.
At one point during the second period, after Hayden missed a shot, Ilya had skated past him and announced loudly enough for three microphones to catch it:
“Ah, Pike! Fifteenth best hockey player in NHL strikes again, yes?”
Hayden had nearly cross-checked him into another dimension.
Instead, he scored twenty seconds later.
Then, while skating past the Boston bench, he pointed at the scoreboard.
Ilya clutched his chest dramatically.
“Oh no,” he said. “Canadian man discovers numbers.”
Even Shane Hollander had laughed at that, which was honestly rude considering he was Hayden’s best friend.
Still, Montreal won 5-3, and afterward Hayden was in such a good mood that he decided to host a barbecue on Saturday afternoon.
Which, according to Jackie, was how most disasters in their marriage began.
One of their daughters, Ruby, ran through the kitchen holding a permanent marker without a cap. The twins, Emma and Ruby, were seven years old and operated exclusively at the volume of emergency sirens. Arthur was four and sticky for reasons nobody could ever identify. Amber, the youngest, toddled around carrying half a hot dog bun she’d apparently emotionally attached herself to.
Shane adored all four children.
Which was one of the reasons Hayden kept trying to convince him to get married and start a family.
“You’d be good at it.” Hayden had told him approximately nine thousand times.
Every single time, Shane reacted the same way: blushing fiercely, adjusting his hoodie sleeves over his hands, mumbling something polite and evasive, then immediately changing the subject.
Jackie thought it was adorable.
Hayden thought it was suspicious. Not suspicious in an actual way.
Just suspicious in the sense that Shane was handsome, kind, rich, famous, emotionally stable, weirdly good with children, and somehow still single.
It didn’t make sense.
The doorbell rang around three in the afternoon.
Hayden opened it to find Shane standing there looking windblown and flustered, holding a six-pack of ginger ale like he was presenting tribute to a king.
“Sorry,” Shane said immediately. “I’m sorry. I’m late. Traffic was bad and then… sorry.”
“You’re fifteen minutes late.”
“I know. Sorry.”
“Buddy, relax.”
Shane smiled nervously.
His freckles stood out sharply against pink cheeks, and his dark hair looked like he’d run both hands through it approximately fifty times during the drive over.
Jackie appeared behind Hayden.
“Oh my God,” she announced dramatically. “You look guilty.”
Shane nearly dropped the ginger ale.
“I’m not guilty.”
“That’s exactly what guilty people say.”
“I just got delayed.”
“By what?” Hayden asked.
Shane froze. There was a tiny pause.
Not long, but noticeable.
“Stuff.” Shane said weakly.
Hayden narrowed his eyes. Jackie burst out laughing.
“Come inside before Hayden starts interrogating you like a cop.”
The afternoon itself was perfect.
Warm sunshine, grilled burgers, children screaming in the backyard, Jackie making fun of Hayden’s apron that said KISS THE COOK while Shane laughed so hard he snorted ginger ale through his nose.
At one point Arthur climbed directly into Shane’s lap and refused to leave for nearly forty minutes.
“You know,” Hayden said smugly, flipping burgers, “this could be your life.”
Shane looked immediately alarmed.
“My life?”
“Yeah. Wife. Kids. Happiness. Financial ruin from buying juice boxes.”
Shane turned pink.
Jackie pointed a hot dog bun at him.
“I still have single friends.”
“Jackie.” Shane begged quietly.
“What? Melissa is nice.”
“Please stop trying to auction me off like Victorian livestock.”
Hayden barked out a laugh.
“You know what your problem is?”
“I have several.”
“You’re too picky.”
“I’m not picky.”
“You rejected Tessa because she said hockey was ‘kinda neat'.”
Shane looked horrified.
“She called Wayne Gretzky ‘that sports guy’.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“It should be.”
The twins dragged Shane away before Hayden could continue bullying him about his non-existent love life.
Throughout the afternoon, Hayden noticed Shane checking his phone.
Not obsessively, but often.
A glance here. A quick text there.
Sometimes he’d smile faintly at the screen before immediately hiding the expression like he’d been caught committing tax fraud.
At one point Hayden walked past him on the patio and saw a message preview flash across the screen.
miss u already, kotik ❤️
Hayden blinked.
“Kotik?”
Shane nearly launched the phone into orbit.
“What?”
“Your phone said kotik.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Is that a typo?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Shane stared at him.
“I need another ginger ale.”
Then he walked directly into the patio door because he was too flustered to open it first.
Jackie wheezed with laughter for a solid minute.
As evening settled in and the sky turned gold, the barbecue slowly wound down.
Amber fell asleep on Jackie’s shoulder.
Arthur was covered in ketchup.
The twins were trying to convince Shane to stay overnight.
“You can sleep in our room.” Emma offered generously.
“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. “Dad snores too loud anyway.”
“Traitors.” Hayden muttered.
Shane smiled softly.
“I can’t tonight.”
He checked his phone again.
And suddenly Hayden noticed something strange.
Shane looked excited.
Not politely ready to leave. Not socially exhausted.
Actually excited.
Like he was trying very hard not to smile too much.
“Big plans?” Hayden asked casually.
Shane startled.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you look like a Hallmark movie protagonist about to run through an airport?”
Shane made a strangled sound.
“I have to go.”
Jackie narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“Oh my God,” she whispered dramatically to Hayden. “He’s finally sleeping with someone.”
Shane choked.
“I am not discussing this.”
Then he fled. Actually fled.
Hayden watched his car disappear down the street.
“Huh.” he said.
Jackie smirked.
“You’re never figuring him out.”
“Nobody acts that weird unless something’s going on.”
“Maybe he’s secretly Batman.”
“He’s too polite to be Batman.”
Monday’s practice arrived.
Shane looked infuriatingly good.
Relaxed. Happy. Bright-eyed.
There was an almost dreamy quality to him that Hayden had literally never seen before.
Which naturally made Hayden suspicious again.
“You look rested.” Hayden said while tying his skates.
“Thanks.”
“You never look rested.”
“I slept well.”
“Interesting.”
Shane glanced over cautiously.
“Why is that interesting?”
“No reason.”
“Hayden.”
“Nope.”
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you think you’re being subtle.”
Hayden grinned.
Wednesday morning destroyed Hayden’s peaceful week.
Ruby wandered into the kitchen scratching her cheek.
“Dad,” she complained. “My face feels weird.”
Hayden looked up from his coffee. Then immediately swore.
By noon, all four children had symptoms.
Jackie took one look at the bright red rashes and sighed.
“Fifth disease.”
Hayden groaned.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect timing.
The rematch against Boston was Friday.
“Maybe nobody else got infected.” Jackie offered.
Hayden laughed hollowly.
“Those children spent Saturday using Shane as a jungle gym.”
Jackie paused.
“…yeah, he’s doomed.”
Hayden texted Shane immediately.
KIDS HAVE FIFTH DISEASE. YOU ALIVE?
Shane replied twenty minutes later.
I feel fine 😊
That smiley face lasted less than twenty-four hours.
Thursday morning Hayden received a phone call.
Shane sounded miserable.
“I think I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying.”
“My joints hurt. I have a rash.”
“You’re Canadian. You people get diseases politely.”
“Hayden.”
“Okay, okay. You called coach?”
“Yeah. I’m out tomorrow.”
Hayden collapsed backward onto the couch.
“We’re screwed.”
“Maybe not.”
“Shane, Boston is going to kill us.”
“Have faith.”
“I don’t have faith. I have anxiety.”
By Thursday evening sports media exploded with unexpected news.
The Boston Bears announced that Ilya Rozanov would also miss Friday’s game due to illness.
Hayden stared at the television. Then slowly lowered his beer.
“…what?”
The reporter continued talking.
“…sources close to the team report flu-like symptoms and a viral rash consistent with fifth disease…”
Jackie looked up from the couch.
“Huh. Weird coincidence.”
Hayden didn’t answer.
Because suddenly his brain had started moving very fast. Too fast.
Like watching puzzle pieces violently slam together.
Shane disappearing every time they stayed in Boston.
Ilya constantly chirping at Shane specifically.
The weird admiration buried underneath the insults.
The way Shane always got flustered whenever Jackie mentioned women.
The mysterious texting.
The suspicious happiness Monday morning.
The word kotik.
Hayden sat upright slowly.
“Oh my God.”
Jackie blinked.
“What?”
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“OH MY GOD.”
Jackie stared, then her eyes widened.
“Oh my God.”
Hayden pointed dramatically at the television where Ilya was currently yelling at a referee in old footage.
“HE’S SLEEPING WITH THE RUSSIAN.”
Jackie inhaled soda directly into her lungs.
Hayden grabbed his phone instantly.
Shane answered on the third ring.
“Hi, Hayden.”
“You infected Ilya Rozanov with our children.”
Silence. Complete silence.
Then:
“…what?”
“You heard me.”
Another pause.
Somewhere on the other end Hayden heard muffled Russian yelling.
Then a crash, then Ilya’s voice shouting:
“Why you throw pillow at me, yes?!”
Hayden’s eyes widened so far they nearly left his skull.
“OH MY GOD HE’S THERE.”
“Hayden…”
“YOU’RE WITH HIM RIGHT NOW?”
“This isn’t…”
“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN SLEEPING WITH ILYA ROZANOV?”
In the background:
“Do not say sleeping. Sounds temporary, but it’s years, yes.”
Shane made the sound of a man whose soul was actively leaving his body.
Hayden stood up from the couch and began pacing wildly.
“You’re telling me the loud Russian maniac from Boston…”
“Handsome Russian maniac.” Ilya corrected distantly.
“… has been seeing my best friend for YEARS?”
“Yes.” Shane said weakly.
“YEARS?”
“Yes.”
“How many years?”
A tiny pause.
“… a decade.”
Hayden stopped moving.
“A decade.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve known you for eight years.”
“Yes.”
“You were already hooking up with him?”
“Yes.”
“The ENTIRE TIME?”
“Yes.”
Hayden pressed a hand against his forehead.
Jackie was crying with laughter beside him.
“You let me try to set you up with women for EIGHT YEARS.”
“I panicked.”
“You panicked for EIGHT YEARS?”
“I’m very committed to avoiding confrontation.”
In the background Ilya shouted proudly:
“He is extremely talented at avoidance, yes.”
“Shut up.” Shane hissed.
Hayden sat down slowly.
Everything suddenly made horrible sense.
Every weird interaction. Every suspicious smile. Every chirp on the ice.
“Oh my God,” he muttered again. “The sexual tension.”
Jackie pointed accusingly.
“I TOLD YOU.”
“You did not.”
“I absolutely did.”
“You said and I quote, ‘those two either want to fight or kiss’.”
“And?”
Hayden sat in stunned silence while Shane quietly died of embarrassment on the other end of the phone.
“You seriously dated him in secret for years?” Hayden asked weakly.
“Yes.” Shane muttered.
“While pretending to hate each other on the ice?”
“We do not pretend,” Ilya corrected proudly. “Sometimes I genuinely want to fight him, yes.”
“That’s not helping.” Shane whispered.
Hayden rubbed both hands over his face.
Then another thought struck him.
“Oh my God.”
Shane sounded terrified now. “What?”
“You kissed him after spending all afternoon with my plague-ridden children.”
Silence. Absolute silence.
There was a choking noise from Shane.
Meanwhile Ilya burst into delighted laughter.
“Oh my God,” Hayden whispered. “Coach is going to kill you both.”
“Worth it.” Shane announced immediately.
Then there was silence, because Shane clearly hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud.
Hayden grinned slowly.
“Oh.”
Another silence.
Then Hayden heard what sounded very much like Shane hiding his face in his hands.
“Oh.” Hayden repeated louder.
Then Ilya spoke carefully.
“…Shane.”
“No.”
“You told me children were ‘probably fine’.”
“They looked fine!”
“You infected superstar athlete with kindergarten disease, yes.”
Jackie collapsed against the kitchen counter laughing.
And from somewhere in the background, Hayden heard Ilya sigh dramatically before saying:
“This is worst thing Montreal Metros has ever done to Boston Bears.”