Page 40 of Scoring Position

ALMOST TWOweeks after the chess video dropped, Buffalo came to town. They were tied at the bottom of the standings, so technically it was a battle for last place. The Fuel had dropped the last five in a row, Buffalo seven. Ryan doubted anyone was tuning in for the grudge match unless they had a morbid curiosity about which losing streak would prevail.

Vorhees’s incomprehensible decision of the night was to bench their backup at the last minute and play Greenie for the second game in a row. But at least he wasn’t riding Chenner tonight.

Thank God for Phil.

Ryan wasn’t sure if he hadn’t noticed during those first few weeks because he was still finding his stride or because Phil was, but their assistant coach might actually be competent.

During practice, Phil worked to get time with all the players to deliver pep talks and run his own drills away from Vorhees’s sphere. After review, practices, and games, Phil quietly sought out different players to talk things through. Ryan got his first turn two days before the Buffalo matchup, after Vorhees yelled at him for having fun. Ryan took one little break to laugh with Chenner in hopes of lifting his spirits, and suddenly he was bringing down the organization with his bad attitude.

Phil stayed on the ice as Ryan completed his punishment laps. Ryan didn’t exactly give them his all once Vorhees was out of eyesight. He stopped at the bench and snagged his water.

“How’re you doing?” Phil asked when Ryan emptied the bottle.

He shrugged. “Tired, but I’ll make it.”

“Not an easy season for you, having to integrate into a new system of play during a contract year.”

Ryan gave Phil a long look. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“But from where I’m standing, you’re all right.”

“Haven’t scored a goal yet.” Not that he was bitter or worried or anything.

“True, but your biggest contributions aren’t on the scoreboard.”

Maybe Ryan should take back all the nice things he thought. Was that supposed to be a compliment? “Thanks?”

Phil winced. “That came out wrong. What I meant was, you could be on pace to score thirty goals this season, and that still wouldn’t be your biggest contribution.”

Thirty goals could translate to a hell of a lot more wins. Ryan was skeptical. “How so?”

“I see the work you’re doing with the rookie. You got Kirschbaum to relax and enjoy the game again, which isn’t nothing. And you’re good at keeping a calm head in the room and on the bench when everyone else loses it.”

It wasn’t quite the satisfaction of scoring a goal, but it didn’t suck to hear that someone had noticed his efforts, even if he hadn’t done much on the ice. “Thanks.”

“But I want you to know that despite what anyone else might think, your only job here is playing hockey.” Phil caught Ryan’s gaze and held it. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate everything you do off the ice, but it’s not your job, and the last thing I want is for the off-the-ice stuff to affect you on the ice.”

Was that a warning to do better, or not to burn out? Ryan couldn’t tell and was too afraid to ask. He would not have a good night if he didn’t like the answer. Instead he said, “Okay. I see your point. But it’s not like I do stuff because I think I have to.” Even though Reeshadspecifically asked him to, with Nico. Ryan would have done it anyway, eventually. “My mom says I’m curious and a helper. My sister says I’m a nosy busybody.” His dad said he needed to be needed, to which eighteen-year-old Ryan had replied that his dad should stick to psychoanalyzing people who paid him for it. “Either way, I can’t really help myself.”

Phil smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Okay. Just so long as helping is good for you too.”

“Yeah, thanks, Coach.”

“Any time. Now, help me get the last of these pylons off the ice.”

Ryan broke a record for how fast he fell asleep for his pregame nap. Actually, he thought he might’ve broken the record for hislongestgame-day nap too, because when he finally opened his eyes, Nico was shaking his shoulder.

“You slept through your alarm.” Almost before Ryan could fully register the warmth of Nico’s hand, he pulled it away. “We need to leave in fifteen minutes.”

The blankets fell away as Ryan pried his eyes the rest of the way open and sat up. He’dwayoverslept, but aside from a nagging pain in his lower back that had been bugging him on and off for a week or so, his body feltgreat. “Shit, okay. Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

“I tried.” Nico stepped back from the bed. Ryan didn’t recognize the suit he wore. It fit better than the ones he’d worn earlier in the season, which had obviously not been tailored to Nico’s current muscle mass. This one emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and the slightly shimmery dark blue of the jacket brought out his eyes. He’d foregone a tie and was wearing the shirt underneath with two buttons undone, as though to tempt Ryan into undoing the rest. It was a lot to deal with upon just waking up. “I knocked on the door ten minutes ago.”

“Sorry,” he said, trying to clear his head. “All right, I’m up now.”

“We can stop on the way for coffee.”

Ryan almost saidI love you, but settled for “Best landlord ever.”

---