Page 32 of Game Misconduct

He did his best, but he felt fidgety and he was glad when the meeting finally wrapped up.

“Dude, I hope your hubby eats your assso good,” Tanner whispered to Matty as they left the meeting room. “You totally deserve it after saving my bacon twice today.”

The tips of Matty’s ears went pink but all he did was jostle Tanner with his shoulder. “Looking forward to getting on the ice with you again, man.”

Leif felt a little out of place as the Nordic team warmed up and did drills and scrimmages that morning. Most of the guys were from Sweden or Finland, though there were a few from Denmark.

Leif was the only Norwegian.

Most of the other guys had been born in their respective countries too. They’d grown up in Sweden or Finland, only coming here to North America to play.

Leif had been born in New York. He had dual citizenship and had often spent summers in Norway, visiting his grandparents and getting to know his aunts, uncles, and cousins.

He’d toyed with the idea of playing for Team USA but he was proud of his Norwegian heritage and wanted to represent his country. As the only Norwegian player in the league right now, much less this tournament, it was important he play for the Nordic team.

But he didn’t quite fit in.

Oh, the guys were nice enough. But on the bench or in the locker room, the Swedes clustered together, often lapsing into speaking Swedish. The Finns spoke Finnish. And although the hockey rivalry between those two countries was pretty strong, many Swedes spoke Finnish and many Finns spoke Swedish.

Leif didn’t speak either.

He did speak Norwegian, even if it was a little rusty, and Swedish was similar enough that he could pick up a few things. But he wasn’t fluent the way they were and he was still the odd man out.

So Leif poured his energy into playing the best hockey he could during scrimmages and, thankfully, by the end, he was starting to click with his linemates. He knew how to do hockey but he always felt a little out of step with the social aspect of being on a new team.

When practice was over and guys began to troop off the ice, ready to cool down, shower, or get some post-game treatment before lunch, Leif stayed on.

He gathered some pucks, tucked them into a loose circle near the blue line, then pulled one out and began firing. That always cleared his head.

A few went wide, others went off the posts, but by the end, most of them were going in the net.

When Leif’s arms ached and he was out of pucks, he went to retrieve them. He was just debating if he should do another round when he heard the sound of skates on ice. He tensed, expecting to see his father coming to see what was wrong.

Aksel Rasmussen always had a sixth sense for when Leif was struggling and well, he was the assistant coach for the Nordic Team. Leif had already done half a dozen interviews aboutthat.

He and his father had talked about how they were going to handle it—mostly that both of them were going to remain professional and focus on the hockey—and he was irritated that his father had already broken their agreement.

But when Leif swept around the net, he got a glimpse of the person who definitely wasn’t his father. It was Anders Lindholm.

“Rasmussen,” Anders said with a polite dip of his head.

“Lindholm.” Leif acknowledged him. “Uhh, did I do something wrong?”

Anders Lindholm—retired player, hall of famer, and queer, married man—had started the skills camp Leif, Tanner, and a number of guys here at the North Atlantic Tournament had attended last summer. He was also one of the skills coaches for the forwards for the Nordic team.

He was kind of an inspiration to Leif. Even if he was Swedish.

Shit.Had Leif messed up somehow? Was staying after to practice not allowed or something? Though he couldn’t imagine why, especially on the first practice day of the tournament.

“Something wrong? No.” Anders looked at him, his expression inscrutable.

Anders was always kind of … enigmatic.

He carried himself with this sort of regal dignity and seemed very quiet, thoughtful, and self-contained.

His praise hit like a bomb. It was so rare that when you got it, it felt extra special.

And damn did he light up when his husband, Kelly, was around.