Page 47 of Scoring Position

So he was, tucked away at the worst table in the restaurant with a guy who looked like a cartoon villain. Nico frowned. Had he seen that man before?

“Hey.” Yorkie nudged him from behind. “Let’s go, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nico agreed. “Let’s go.”

PART OFRyan would’ve liked to have some more time to spend with Nico before a multiple-game road trip interrupted. The other part thought it was probably a good idea for him to have the space to figure out what exactly he thought he was doing.

Unfortunately the answer seemed pretty obvious. Despite the fact that Ryan would be lucky—romantically speaking—to play with the Fuel as long as April, he was dating his teammate, roommate, and landlord. Between that and Ryan’s track record, it didn’t take a fortune-teller to see this was going to end badly.

It was already too late, though, and had been for a while. He’d been lured in by Nico’s independence and determination and big sad blue eyes and gotten trapped by his sweetness and hidden sense of humor. He might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Even if nobody else could know about it, which meant going back to his own room when their group returned to the hotel.

He was tempted to text Nico for his room number once Yorkie and Misha were out of the way… but then he remembered Nico’s words from the other night—I’d rather keep doing it and say nothing.

So they definitely weren’t risking getting caught, then. Instead he debated his next move in their chess game and went to bed early, lulled by just enough wine and a surprisingly quiet hotel room. But his sleep was restless, haunted by a twisted memory of Josh’s pitying face with a brand-new set of insecurities. “You’ll be gone by the end of the year,” he said. “And you know what happens next.”

Ryan’s subconscious was a real asshole.

“Bad night?” Nico asked on the bus to Montreal the next morning.

Apparently he was an open book. “What, not going to tell me I look terrible this time?”

Instead of answering, Nico offered his iPhone and latest audiobook—The Gameby Ken Dryden. Ryan didn’t exactly fall asleep, but at least it was a restful ride.

Returning to his old team’s barn for the first time was more bitter than sweet. Ryan had missed the atmosphere. The Wreck Center never got this loud for the Fuel. Of course, the Voyageurs were a top team and the Fuel were fighting for thirtieth place.

At least Coach hadn’t scratched him. Until Ryan actually set foot on the ice for the anthem, he’d been convinced he would. Montreal’s fans still seemed to love him too, or at least the cheers drowned out any boos.

That held until the end of the first period, when Ryan was in the paint at the Voyageurs’ net, jawing and making a nuisance of himself to guys who knew him better than his own family.

“Holy shit, did you change detergents?” his former road-trip seat partner chirped. “You better hope the linesman doesn’t come over here. He’ll stick you in the box for assaulting an official’s nose—”

Chenner’s shot rebounded right in front of him. Ryan got his stick on it just in time to jam it under the goalie’s pads.

Montreal did boo him then, but he didn’t mind so much.

The last thing he expected was for it to happen again on a penalty kill in the third. He’d chased one of his old teammates into Montreal’s defensive zone—except he mishandled the puck trying to clear it, and Ryan intercepted right at the top of the circle. One stride and he had a clear shot and a goalie who was out of position. He pulled the trigger—top shelf.

“Fucking good goal,” Kitty shouted at him in their celly, thumping his helmet so hard Ryan’s ears rang. “But now theyreallydon’t like you.”

Ryan skated by the Fuel bench for his obligatory fist bumps and caught the heat in Nico’s eyes as their gloves touched. He decided could live with it.

And then it all went to shit anyway when Coach insisted on double-shifting Grange’s line in overtime even though they were completely gassed. To add insult to injury, he was barely paying attention; he was so checked out he was doing online banking on his phone when Ryan’s former teammates won the game in overtime.

He went out with the Voyageurs after the game. Nico was off catching up with Lucas, so Ryan figured they wouldn’t see much of each other until the flight the next day, but it turned out he was wrong. Ryan stepped into the hotel lobby through the south door as Nico walked in the north.

Their eyes met and Ryan felt the same spark he had earlier, except now there wasn’t anyone around to prevent it from catching. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Nico echoed. They stepped into the elevator together, and he pushed the button for their floor. “Did you have a good night?”

Ryan made a noncommittal sound and clasped his hands behind his back to keep from reaching out and touching. “Not bad.” He glanced at Nico from the corner of his eye. “You?”

Nico wet his lips. “Could be better.”

Heat curled in Ryan’s gut, and he shifted from foot to foot, willing the elevator to go faster. “You gotta stop looking at me like that in public or we’re gonna cause a scene.”

The doors opened on their floor, and he nudged Nico out in front of him. Fortunately the hallway was deserted. “Do you want to, uh…?”

“I’ve been thinking about that second goal forhours.” Nico’s voice was a little strained. “Which room is yours?”

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