Page 89 of Scoring Position

“Right,” Nico drawled. “I orchestrated these clowns getting caught doing hockey crime.”

Noah snickered and waved for the server. “I hear you’re like a chess genius, Kirschbaum. You been playing the long game?”

“Yes,” he said. “All this time I have been maneuvering to get my former coach and GM arrested, and along the way made sure they traded me to Vancouver. It’s where all German boys long to play.”

“Hey, it’s better than Columbus.”

Point to Noah. “Better than Edmonton too.”

“Aww, guys. He loves us!”

Nico couldn’t help a small smile. This might not be where he thought he’d end up, but he could get used to it. “I think you’reokay.”

In the hooting laughter that followed, Nico allowed himself one quiet moment of sadness.

Then he raised his hand and called for another round of drinks.

WITH NICOgone, the house didn’t feel the same. It was like the walls and furniture thought Ryan was an asshole too.

Sleep grew more challenging until he finally resorted to sleeping in Nico’s bed, which was absolutely pathetic but not more pathetic than his on-ice performance when he wasn’t getting enough shuteye. No one had to know.

At least Rees and Vorhees were gone, never to terrorize another hockey team with their combination of malice, incompetence, and criminal activity. He should feel better that the team’s ownership had finally decided to pay attention to what was happening and clean house and that Rees and Vorhees might actually go to prison. He should get some measure of satisfaction that Nico was going to tear it up in Vancouver, and at leastthisteam had a chance to recover from Rees and Vorhees now.

And it did, kind of. But none of it made up for the guilt or the heartbreak, so that sucked.

Almost a week after Nico left Indianapolis, Tara sent a text.

OH MY GOD! DID YOU SEE THIS???The message was accompanied by a link to an article.Nico Kirschbaum and Agent Father Part Ways.

Ryan clicked before he could think about it.

The article was light on details—not surprising, since Ryan couldn’t imagine Nico talking to a stranger about his contentious relationship with his dad. He’d barely talked about it with Ryan. But at some point between Nico leaving the Fuel and his first week in Vancouver, Nico’s dad had ceased to work in any capacity as his agent and Nico had hired Erika Orrick.

That cemented it. Ryan had always known Nico didn’t need him; he just needed to get out from under his father’s thumb. Get a chance for some breathing room. Vancouver would be harder because it was more of a hockey market, and the Canadian hockey media was brutal, but on an established team with a record miles better than the Fuel’s, with plenty of talent, the pressure wouldn’t crush him.

From the numbers Ryan had seen, Nico was thriving.

He’d always had it in him. It was good to see him prove it.

Ryan kept telling himself that, but part of him still smarted to know that Nico didn’t need him. He never had.

And maybe that was okay. Maybe it wasn’t particularly healthy to need your significant other to need you like that. And after all, wasn’t it better if Nico stayed with Ryan because he wanted to? That was what he’d been doing, until Ryan fucked it up.

But dwelling on his mistakes had to take a back seat to things he could actually fix, because at skate a few days before they were due to play their home game against Vancouver, Phil clapped Ryan on the shoulder and said, “You’re playing second line tomorrow. I want to keep you there for the rest of the season. So work on perfecting that chemistry, okay?”

“Uh, okay. I mean, yes, Coach.” Sure, Vorhees had played Ryan on the second line, but Ryan had never gotten the impression anyone thought it was a good idea.

They played Edmonton that night, Ryan’s first in his official new role. He wouldn’t have called his performance compelling, but he didn’t embarrass himself, and they squeaked out a 2–1 win in regulation. Everything was fine until he was sitting in the locker room postgame doing media—again; why did this keep happening?—and a reporter asked him about stepping into Nico’s skates.

Chenner must’ve been watching over him, because he walked right through the middle of the media scrum, laughing and calling something back to Greenie. He was only wearing his boxers and a towel slung around his neck, so everyone instinctively took a step back and Ryan got a moment to collect himself.

By the time Chenner took his seat on the other side of Ryan, he still didn’t know what he wanted to say. Trying to answer felt like pressing on a fresh bruise. “I mean, nobody’s gonna replace Grouch, least of all me. It’s just next man up, you know? That’s how it always is.”

But when the interview was over, he kept turning the words he’d spoken over in his head.No one’s gonna replace Grouch, least of all me.He’d meant that he couldn’tbeNico’s replacement… but it was also true that he’d neverfinda replacement for Nico.

He should start thinking about that.

And then he couldn’tstopthinking about it. He thought about it all the way home, in the back of an Uber because Chenner—his new chauffeur—was going out with the team to celebrate. But Ryan didn’t feel like celebrating.

---