Page 66 of Scoring Position

Now Rees’s frown deepened, his eyes serious. “All right. I’ll admit that does sound… far-fetched. But there could be any number of explanations for it. The man could be a scout.”

Ryan nodded, eager to show he could play ball even though he was sure the guy didn’t work in hockey in any professional capacity. “Yeah, I know. I know. Believe me, I know how it sounds—”

“Let me finish,” Rees cut him off with a small smile. “You could recognize this man if you saw him again?”

“In a heartbeat,” Ryan said immediately.

Rees nodded. “All right. I’ll make some inquiries,” he promised. The tension that had been ratcheting up in Ryan’s body abruptly released. “But Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll need some time to look into this.” He made a note in his day planner and slid it to the far side of the desk, out of the way. “The last thing this team needs is a scandal that turns out to be nothing. Can I ask you to keep this to yourself, just for now, until I can get to the bottom of it?”

That seemed pretty reasonable. Ryan exhaled the last of the stress he’d been holding on to as he nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He’d discharged his duty. He’d relayed his suspicions to someone who was taking him seriously and had the power to do something about it. Now he could relax. “Thanks for hearing me out.”

“Of course, of course! I’m glad you felt that you could come to me.” He smiled. “I’ve got paperwork to get back to, believe it or not, but say hello to Nico for me, would you?”

Oh God.Ryan was not opening that can of worms. “Sure. Thanks, Mr.—John.”

Rees chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

THE TEAMmight have come out of Christmas break on a hot streak, but it cooled in the slushy gloom of January. Their sixth game back, Coach scratched Grange, supposedly for a goalless streak. Nico didn’t know how sitting their third-highest scorer was supposed to win them any more games, and, in fact, it didn’t. They won one of three of those, and Nico had to do postgame interviews, which happened when one of the faces of the franchise wasn’t available for comment because Vorhees had put him in a time-out.

“Nico, last month the Fuel seemed like they were at a turning point in the season, special teams clicking, putting together some wins. What’s changed?”

Nico thought grimly of the movie Ryan had foisted on him last night—If you’re gonna ride in the Kentucky Derby, you don’t leave your prize stallion in the stable—but movie quotes were Ryan’s thing, not his.

He answered, “I think anytime you want something this bad and you’re not given all the tools you need to achieve it, it leads to a lot of frustration. So we’re taking too many penalties, getting into our heads.”

It was all true, but obviously Vorhees spotted the not-particularly-diplomatic criticism couched in Nico’s reply, and Nico got scratched next. He hardly had the energy to be upset. The schedule was grueling, with a game almost every other night, and the enforced rest almost felt like a vacation instead of a punishment.

Maybe Coach should just start calling this shit “maintenance days.”

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked him on the bus on the way back to their hotel in Calgary. Nico had spent the game watching from the press box, gritting his teeth as a one-goal deficit turned into two and then three and then four. He couldn’t believe the Fuel failed to convert on three power-play opportunities.

Nico lost the battle with his need for human comfort and leaned his head on Ryan’s shoulder, even though it meant slouching awkwardly because Ryan was short. “Are any of us really okay?”

Ryan snorted, but he took the hint and ran his fingers through Nico’s hair, and some of the irritation leached out of Nico’s body. “Deep.”

A lot of things were still terrible, but at least Nico had Ryan.

He still had one game left on his sentence—although Coach could arbitrarily extend it at will—when they returned to Indianapolis. He kept his head down at practice and stayed out of Coach’s way, and when Phil offered to do some extra video work with him, he took it. He liked Phil, and he offered insight into Nico’s strengths and shortcomings in a way that helped him improve instead of… whatever Vorhees’s strategy was. It wasn’t even Phil’s job—they had a full-time video coach. Phil was justnice.

So one Thursday morning in mid-January, he let himself into the arena, brushed snowflakes from the brim of his hat, and wiped his boots carefully on the mat.

“Morning,” he said to the custodian.

She had AirPods in, but she raised her hand in greeting.

At this time on an off day, the arena ran on a skeleton crew, mostly maintenance staff taking care of things that were easier to do without crowds. Nico liked it. It was quiet, and the lights were dim, but it still smelled like hockey. It felt like… potential. He couldn’t describe it.

Ryan thought empty rinks were creepy, but what did he know?

Nico took the long way to the video room. It was part of the ritual—arrive at the rink, greet the staff, head to the locker room. He didn’t need to change today since they were only doing video review, but he went by anyway to get into the right headspace to hear about his mistakes. Barb didn’t like him to think of it like that; she liked him to think of it as “room for improvement.” But Barb hadn’t been fielding passive-aggressive text messages from Nico’s dad for the past week because she got scratched for telling the truth in an interview.

In any case, he was most of the way to the right frame of mind when someone interrupted his walking meditation. “Excuse me.”

He almost jumped out of his skin. Maybe Ryan had a point about empty rinks.

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