And that’s when he knew. He didn’t need a DNA test or confirmation from his dad. Shit. He’d known the moment he’d seen that side-by-side picture. They’d both been sideswiped by the news, and now Dad’s mess was theirs to clean up. He let out a deep breath and nodded to Christensen, who released him and took a step back. They eyed each other warily, both bruised in places neither could see.

“When did you find out?” Petrov asked.

“Middle school.”

Hearing that was like skating at full speed right into the boards. They’d been practically inseparable on and off the ice for three years, and the whole time Christensen had known? Fuck, he really was their dad’s kid. Manipulating and twisting things for his own benefit.

“So you must have had a good laugh when you got traded to the Ice Knights.” Petrov pushed past the other man, checking him with his shoulder as he headed for the door. “Was it fun? Knowing all along?”

“I thought you knew, and then when I realized you didn’t, I couldn’t figure out how to explain. Dad said it would fuck things up for you if I did. So I kept my mouth shut.”

“How convenient.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Christensen all but roared as he rushed forward and blocked Petrov from leaving. “None of this has been convenient. While you were growing up with your rich-family reality, I was watching my mom work two jobs to pay for rent. You were the silver-spoon kid. You got vacations and family dinners and the old man showing you the hockey ropes. I didn’t even get a last name.”

It was too much to process; his circuits were overloaded. He was going to puke or explode or break down in fucking tears like he had when he was ten and his dad told him that hockey wasn’t for everyone and probably wasn’t for him. Petrov had to get out of here. Now.

“Get the fuck out of my way.”

“No.” Christensen didn’t budge. “We need to talk.”

“I said move.” He shoved Christensen. Hard.

The other man went stumbling away. By the time Christensen stopped his backward momentum, Ian was already charging forward and ready to take the other man out. His dad had betrayed his family. His best friend had betrayed him by knowing the truth and never telling. Someone had to pay, and Christensen was right in front of him, grinning like a loon and as ready for a fight as he was.

“Petrov. Christensen,” Coach yelled from the door, stopping them both in their tracks with just the timbre of his voice. “Cut this shit immediately. My office. Now.”

Without waiting for a response, the coach spun around and stalked out of the locker room.