Page 13 of Crossing Lines

Ryan

Yes, I’ll text you after the game.

Owen

Maybe we can meet up at The Club on Mill again?

Ryan

Sure.

Then, at least, we’d be someplace public and it wouldn’t be classified as a date. I set my phone on the sofa cushion. Last time we’d been together, he’d been a little rougher than I’d liked too. He was the kind of guy who was into his own pleasure more than his partner’s.

My phone buzzed again.

I scoffed. “No, I am not going to answer anymore tonight.” I set my phone onDo Not Disturband turned it face-down. Had I really been so desperate to find new people after my move that I’d allowed a weirdo into my life? Yes, yes, I had.

Picking up my plate of noodles, I opened my laptop, resting next to my whisky on the coffee table, and started the game footage.

The illegal hit on Jonah ran across my screen.

I winced. The guy who hit Jonah was a total grinder. Coach Finley had to see that. Hopefully, he’d warned his guys about it the way I had. They’d better not go after Jonah again, or I’d… I tipped my head back. “You’d what, Ryan? Step in again?” I refocused on my screen, watching Jonah scramble to stand but then slap his hands to his knees as he bent over. Heat crept across my chest. The fucker better not go after Jonah again, or Iwouldstep right the fuck in.

My phone buzzed and buzzed some more.

“For fuck’s sake.” I stopped the footage and, with a scowl, turned it over. The screen read,Dad. No wonder. He was on my Favorites list, so he’d gotten through. I answered the call and put him on speaker. “Hey, Dad.” It was unusual for him to be calling.

“Hi. How’s it going, eh?” He chuckled. “You moved down to the States, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I have. I moved right after Christmas Day.” I leaned against the back of my couch and circled my finger over the fabric of my sweats on my thigh. Why did talking to him always make me feel like I was a kid again?

“So, how is it?” he asked.

I scanned my apartment and the darkness outside the patio doors, the only light inside coming from a pair of cream ceramic lamps on the side tables next to my couch. “It’s good so far. I’m living close to campus and the barn.” I wasn’t going to tell him about the gay bar that was within walking distance. He’d think it was the only reason I was living here.

“Good, so you’re all set up?” He took a deep inhale.

“I am. I didn’t have too much stuff, so…” Because most of what I’d had before actually belonged to Laurent. My chest pricked. I was making my own way now, without him. “I’m, uh, sorry I didn’t call. I’ve been pretty busy with the team. We started up practices a few days after I got here, and I coached my first game tonight.” I winced. I knew what was coming.

“Oh? And how’d you do?”

“We, uh, we lost,” I said with a grimace. “But we have a new strategy for tomorrow night. In fact, I was going over game?—”

“Not a great way to start your college coaching career,” he grumbled.

Fuck. “No, but it’s only the first game. Things will get better. This is a good team, Dad, and I’m sure the head coach will be a good mentor.” Tyler and Archer were starting to gel, and with them living in the same house, I knew I could make it work. I should get him off the subject of my new job. “How’s the physical therapy office?”

“Same. Mrs. Finnegan is getting her other knee replaced, so she’s coming in three times a week. Demanding as hell.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, I remember her.” Warmth crept through my chest. I’d helped out sometimes in Dad’s office. It was a little extra experience I could use to help my players. “You know she was mean to some of your therapists, but she liked to bring me cookies.”

“She was always sweet on you.” He sighed, and a high-pitched voice whined through the phone. “Stop it, Sheila. Daddy’s on the phone.” Muffled voices came through the line. “Yes, it’s Ryan,” he said, “No, you need to go to bed now.”

“Someone’s up late.” I chuckled. My little sister Sheila was part of the reason I didn’t hear from Dad much anymore. He had a new family now. That, and I wasn’t playing hockey anymore. Dad had stopped playing hockey after high school and I was supposed to carry on his dream and go all the way to the NHL. After I was injured, our relationship had never been the same. Right after my injury was when he’d started arguing with Mom too. Then came the divorce?—

“How is your mother?” he asked.

I trailed my finger over the edge of my phone, tilting my head. “She’s sounding well. I spoke to her on New Year’s Eve. She’s, um, cancer-free.” I wasn’t sure if he knew or not.

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