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I think your assist to chirp ratio doesn't add up

No I said passes, not assists

If you can’t finish that’s on you

I set you up all the time

Uh huh

Thanks man

For the passes and the other stuff

Bro any time

Tho feel free to pass back sometimes

I like goals too

15 PRE-SEASON 2023

Henri didn’t think he’d ever get used to the New Mexico heat. The seats in his car burned, the steering wheel burned, the sun reflecting off the road burned his eyes. Why did teams in such warm climates keep taking his contract? He’d appreciate it in January, he supposed, but it was August and he fucking hated it.

He scowled as he walked into the rink. It was so hard to keep ice in Albuquerque year-round that only the rink itself was cool—even here in the lobby there was little relief from the heat. It was definitely better, but right now he wanted to dive onto the ice belly-first like he had as a kid, sliding on the fresh ice after the Zamboni had done its work, the ice so wet he could make it almost all the way to the center of the rink.

“Welcome back!”

Henri stopped short. He turned to the voice and found none other than Dylan Everett walking toward him from the locker room.

Obviously, he’d known about Everett before Henri had even entered the league. You’d have to be living under a rock not to know who he was. If you asked someone who didn’t follow hockey to name a single player, they would almost certainly name Dylan Everett. Henri had known about his goal-scoring and how difficult he was to play against. Among giant NHL players, Everett just had this presence that made him seem bigger than he was. Not that the man was small. 6’2 and 230 lbs, the man was a solid specimen of what the male form could be, all of which was on full display with loose shorts exposing his massive thighs and a tight muscle shirt revealing tan skin and dazzling biceps.

And yes, he was objectively handsome. His face was perfectly symmetrical, even his nose, which had been broken once years ago, had somehow healed perfectly. Without the gear, it was easier to notice his bronze hair and that his beard was a few shades darker than his hair. That both might glimmer red in the sunlight. And his eyes, a bright clear blue that reminded him of Lac Memphremagog on a clear day.

All of these were things Henri had noticed and catalogued over the years, adjusting to make the picture in his head clearer now that they were teammates.

What Henri hadn’t known before joining the Turkeys was that Dylan Everett was nice.

“How’d the off-season treat you?” Dylan asked with that smile that pretty much never left his face. He had a good media smile, one that would charm fans and reporters. Strange that he wasn’t married, like half the team seemed to be.

“It was fine,” Henri said automatically. Then, because Everett was looking at him expectantly, he added, “I went sailing with my father.”

Everett was still staring at him, and Henri wondered if it wasn’t expectant at all. Never one to blink first, he stared back challengingly.

“Wow.” Dylan chuckled, and his amusement lit up his entire face. “Your accent’s a little thick there, eh?”

Henri blinked. His accent?

“I always have an accent,” he said defensively, but ah yes, there. He could hear it now. His words blurring together, the lilt of his voice different, less flat than his practiced English. He sighed internally. Maybe he’d have to work on it at home, get himself media-ready again. He’d hated those reporters early in his career who pretended they couldn’t understand him.

“I didn’t speak much English over the summer,” Henri admitted. “I might be a little rusty.”

“No,” Everett immediately said, his cheeks tinted slightly pink beneath his tan. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you self-conscious. Your English is so good I forgot you speak French.”

Henri blinked again. “My name is Luc-Henri Baptiste,” he said slowly, saying it properly for once instead of the Luke-Henry crap he heard all the time. “And you forgot I speak French?”

Everett’s cheeks were now so red his freckles had disappeared. Their disappearance was what made Henri realize Everett even had freckles. “I uh…yes?”

And Henri had the unfortunate realization that Dylan Everett was cute when he was embarrassed. It was much more devastating than admitting he was handsome.