Page 8 of Scoring Position

Once again dressed in shirt and pants, Nico looked over to find Wright still staring.

“Did you need something?”

Wright snorted and shook his head. “Not from you. See you around, Kirschbaum!” He gave an annoyingly perky grin and wave before he left.

Nico wanted to punch him right in the smile.

First Period

RYAN WASin a pickle.

His first meeting with Kirschbaum had gone… predictably. He’d felt obligated to tell Rees it was going to take time to get Kirschbaum to stop resenting his presence, and not to expect progress on the friendship front for a while. He’d thought Rees might be angry or disappointed, but he took it in stride: “Probably should’ve seen that coming,” he chuckled. “You’ll figure it out.”

But right now, after practice, Ryan was just trying to figure out the locker room.

Some folks rolled their eyes at the idea of acquiring players who were “good in the room,” and Ryan could see their point. Who cared if you were good in the room if you sucked on the ice? But he had always been comfortable in locker rooms, with the guys. He knew these spaces, how to read them. He had a knack for pumping up his team before a game or between periods, keeping them from getting frustrated when games got chippy, and cheering them up after a loss. He liked it so much, he’d studied sports psychology.

But Ryan had no idea what to do withthisroom.

He knew that Rees had brought him down here hoping he’d do some Freudian shit on Kirschbaum and get him performing like they wanted him to—like the kid was a dancing monkey instead of a real person. But even if Ryancoulddo that, that was only the beginning of this team’s problems.

No training-camp locker room should feel this oppressive after a practice. The boys were as tense as a team after a game six loss.

Dealing with this sort of thing was usually a captain’s job, but Yorkie was, what, twenty-five? He didn’t exactly have a ton of experience to draw from. And the guy had two kids already. Maybe he was in over his head. Maybe constantly losing had sucked away his will to try.

But honestly, what the fuck?

Yorkie stood and opened his mouth—presumably to say something kind and bracing and Dad-like, as if he were talking to his daughter after she missed a pass—when Coach breezed into the room.

“Well, I hope you all enjoyed yourselves this summer.”

Yorkie pressed his lips together and sat back down. Ryan watched a blank mask settle over his face and turned his own gaze back to the coach.

A former player who had racked up more penalties than goals, Chuck Vorhees would have been considered an intimidating size in any other setting. He snapped his chewing gum between words. “’Cause it doesn’t seem like you were doing much work. Whatwasthat, guys? I’ve seen six-year-olds put in better efforts. You’re slow. You were supposed to be packing on muscle for the season, not fat.” His icy blue gaze shot over to Kipriyanov, a formidable defenseman who weighed well over 200 pounds. Given that he was also 6’4” and that he was as fast as any other defenseman Ryan had met, Ryan didn’t think that was a problem.

“Now I know some of you have been working out and showing off”—across the room, Kirschbaum curled into himself—“but clearly no one ever taught you the difference between working hard and working smart. Tomorrow we start working smart, or some of you won’t be happy when it comes to the opening-night lineup.”

Vorhees turned and left, still snapping his gum.

Well, that wasn’t… the worst. Sure, he singled out two of the better players on the team to put them down, but he wasn’t wrong that practice had been lackluster. Definitely not the most energetic first practice back Ryan had ever skated in.

But even the bad practice and the mild chewing out, taken together, shouldn’t account for the defeated slump to almost every shoulder. The only exceptions were Kitty Kipriyanov, who was scowling at the door, and Yorkie, who had pressed his mouth into a firm, stubborn line.

Ryan was too new and too dispensable—and too far behind on his first assignment already—to bring this up with Rees. Besides, maybe he was wrong about the lay of the land. Being cocky wouldn’t help anything, but at least he could offer a Band-Aid solution to get the team out of today’s funk.

Ryan glanced Yorkie’s way and caught his eye. He lifted his eyebrows in silent question, and Yorkie beckoned him over. Ryan settled on the bench next to him.

“I figure that every team deserves a good start-of-the-year celebration, and since I’m the new guy, I’ve got no backyard or favorite restaurant to do the hosting in. What about you?”

Yorkie’s lips twitched. “I was planning on hosting something later this week, but….” He glanced around the room. “Maybe sooner is better.”

Ryan hummed. “We could go grab a late lunch, if you know a place.”

Yorkie did know a place. He stood up and clapped his hands. “All right! I’m starving. And I must be delirious with hunger, because I just promised this idiot I’d take him out to lunch. I figure the rest of you better take advantage.”

“You buying everyone lunch?” Kitty smirked. “That very big bill. Sure you have enough money?”

Yorkie rolled his eyes. “I worked in an extra bonus to my last signing—a Hockey Player Feeding clause.”

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