Page 84 of Home Ice Advantage

By the time they did get out of bed and cleaned up, Eric had no idea how late it was. He was bone-tired in a way that he wasn’t usually these days, but it was good. As soon as Ryan came back to bed, they could pass out, and that would be that.

When Ryan did get back in bed, he immediately rolled over and wormed his way under Eric’s arm. “I told you.”

“You told me what?” Eric asked, sleepily.

“You’re a good man. I knew you’d do the right thing. I always trusted you to.”

Eric thought about it for a long moment. “I wanted to earn that trust.”

“You did, Eric,” Ryan murmured into his shoulder. “And now...sleep.”

Eric slept, a better sleep than he’d had in years.

IV. THE OFFSEASON

Chapter Fifteen

April-July

The closer they got to the end of the season, the less meaningful the games became. The Beacons had been mathematically eliminated from the playoffs in the end of March, which Ryan had been expecting. Despite his best efforts, the team just hadn’t had it, and they’d been ravaged with injuries the second half of the year. The guys took it about as well as he could have hoped for, and they kept fighting even though technically, they had nothing to fight for except their pride in the logo on the sweater.

“Hey, Coach?” Williams said, after one of the losses. It had been a backbreaker: close enough to a win that it hurt just that much more.

“Yes, Willy?” Ryan said, backtracking just enough so that he wasn’t yelling over his shoulder to talk. “What’s up?”

“I just want you to know that next year is going to be better.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Williams said. He had come out of the dressing room to tell Ryan this, and he was still half-undressed in his underlayer and shorts, face shining with sweat.

“You couldn’t wait five minutes?” Ryan asked, amused.

“No, I wanted to tell you before I lost the thought. It’s just like—we didn’t play very well this year. But we’re going to come in next year and I’m gonna make sure everyone is working hard. We can move on from 5 on 5 and concentrate on special teams. Losing, it just...it sucks so much, Coach. I fucking hate it so much. I know we’ll probably have a top-five draft pick this year, and that’s what the team needs, but next year... I just want you to know I’m going to be ready.”

“Thanks, Willy,” Ryan said, running a hand through his hair. “You know how much I appreciate your contributions to the team. I just want you to try to enjoy your summer a little bit, too, eh? Take a vacation? See your family? Hang out with your friends?”

“I’ve got the whole summer for that,” Williams said, rolling his eyes. “This loss just...for some reason this one really bugs me. And it’snotgoing to be like that next year.”

“All right,” Ryan agreed. “But, you know, I also want you to take a vacation.”

“That an order, Coach?”

“Yes,” Ryan said, and held out his fist for their handshake.

He stayed late that night to go over tape with the rest of his staff, although at this point it was a futile effort. It reminded him a little of his first days in Dallas with Murph, when the team had been a disaster waiting to happen every night, but the players had put in a ridiculous effort anyway. Murph had always hated to lose, and he and Ryan had been responsible for a number of rallying locker room speeches even when the older players had basically given up.

Ryan sighed. He wondered what Murph was doing. Whether he was okay.

“You good, Ryan?” Eric asked him, as they were finally ready to pack up for the night and head home.

“You go on without me,” Ryan said, after a second. “I have a few things I want to take care of here first.”

Eric’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t argue. He hesitated and said, “All right. See you tomorrow, then.”

They would meet up later, of course, but there was the need, even now, to be careful. By the time Ryan was alone, it was almost one in the morning and he was exhausted, but took the time to neaten up the papers scattered over his desk, wipe the whiteboard clean of his notes and diagrams. His mind was full of jumbled, scattered thoughts that didn’t quite connect. Memories of his time in Dallas and memories he was building here. Crashing in Murph’s hotel room after a night out with the team and waking up spooned up against Murph’s broad back. Waking up in hotel rooms with Eric now. The look in Murph’s eye when Ryan had scored the game-winning goal of the Cup-clinching game, the way they’d embraced afterward and it had felt like—

Before he could really think about it, Ryan pulled out his phone and called Murph. He wasn’t sure whether Murph would actually pick up. Not only had they not spoken since the disastrous dinner in Back Bay, it was still pretty late. The phone rang a few times but just when Ryan was about to hastily end the call, Murph answered.

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