“Okay,” Nico said. “That actually, uh…. That would be great.” He paused. “Thank you.”
Ah, fuck. Ryan made himself smile, and when he stood, he offered Nico a hand up. “Don’t mention it.”
AFTER RYANdropped him off, Nico barely managed to get his suit off before he passed out. He slept so long and so hard, he was almost late for his appointment with Barb, because he forgot he needed to take an Uber.
He made it with a few minutes to spare, though, and Barb was… nice. She was nonjudgmental and easier to talk to than he expected, but not the same way Ryan was easy to talk to—though he would never admit Rees was right about that. Barb would waitendlesslyfor Nico to answer, while Ryan didn’t make him do that. But still….
After a little small talk, they started in on Nico’s… he didn’t even know what to call it.Episode, maybe. He described what he’d been thinking and feeling and his desire to get away from everyone until he could get himself under control because he knew he’d behaved abominably.
Barb rebuked him gently a few times for being too harsh on himself. Nico didn’t agree, but if he was going to actually talk to a professional, he might as well try to do things the way she wanted. Eventually she offered, “Well, I don’t think it was quite a panic attack, but it doesn’t sound like a lot of fun. Let’s talk about ways we can keep you from feeling that way again,” and then they did.
She did give him homework, including a book she recommended calledChop Wood Carry Water, made an appointment for a follow-up session, and that was it.
He got an Uber to take him to the arena, then drove his car home and went through his usual workout routine in his home gym, listening to the audiobook ofChop Woodas he did so. He wanted to listen again when he could devote more attention to it, but so far it seemed helpful.
But when he got through the exercises he wassupposedto do, to the part where he usually started doing extra sets, he stopped and remembered Ryan’s words from the night before.You’re working hard, but it’s not paying off, and it’s making you miserable.
He took a deep breath and decided he could skip the punitive exercises and go right into his cooldown yoga instead. Ryan was right that he hadn’t been careful with himself lately. He’d been neglecting his mental health, which could have physical consequences.
But today… he felt good. Better than he had in a long time.
On one hand, someone was probably going to sayI told you so. But on the other, Nico was too relieved to care.
RYAN KNEWbetter than to screw a teammate. And he also knew how to curb his impulses. He wasn’t a teenager. He wouldn’t risk locker-room camaraderie or this tentative friendship with Nico just because Nico was, objectively, hot. Not even if he was starting to suspect there was a personality under the attitude, one with a dark sense of humor and an admirable work ethic. Was it misguided of Nico to think he could fix the team all by himself? Absolutely, yes. Did Ryan still find that level of dedication and personal responsibility compelling? Unfortunately, also yes.
The point was, Ryan had no intention of doing anything about that attraction.
He was thinking really hard about hockey things. Strong hockey thoughts. He even—after weeks of putting him off—let Yorkie bully him into attending an optional skate the day before a road trip.
Chenner had shown up too, but he looked unsure about what to do—not least because Vorhees was just sitting in the stands with some of his staff, chewing gum and scowling, like players were supposed to read his mind. He and the others talked in a sort of intermittent fashion and with gestures toward the ice, suggesting their conversation was observational. Ryan was pretty sure one of those guys wasn’t even on the Fuel payroll. He definitely would’ve remembered a guy with a wicked scar like that.
At least Phil, the assistant coach, was actually on the ice and working.
Ryan ran through some drills—stickhandling, quick turns, shooting—that didn’t require a buddy. When he took a break for some water, he spotted Chenner off to the side, playing with a puck and staring intently.
That would not do.
With Phil’s grateful blessing, Ryan passed the remaining thirty minutes of the skate with Chenner, talking him through drills and asking innocuous questions about his experience in the league so far, where he was living and how he was adjusting. As they talked, Ryan got the sinking feeling that the rotten apple that was Chuck Vorhees wasn’t spoiling the barrel so much as the whole damn orchard.
The sleep gods were not on Ryan’s side that night. Despite the blackout curtains he’d ordered, he could never entirely block out the neon light from the building next door, which meant he spent way too much time lying awake and staring at shadows on the wall instead of falling asleep.
He was practically a zombie when he dropped into the seat next to Nico on the plane the next morning. Nico had given a fraction of an inch; Ryan was going to run five miles. They werefriendsnow. Or at least, they could be.
Nico didn’t complain, at least not about Ryan’s presence. He did offer, “You look terrible,” but it was more observation than judgment.
Ryan opened an eye to glare at him and squirmed to get comfortable. “Thanks,” he said, heavily sarcastic. If it hadn’t been October in a city that didn’t know it was fall yet, he could be dressed in a cozy wool coat and soft toque, and maybe he would actually get some rest. Suits did not make one feel relaxed and sleepy.
Neither did the fact that he could feel Nico staring at him. Ryan shot him a look. “What?”
“Did you not sleep or something last night?”
“Or something.” Ryan didn’t exactly want to confess his sleep issues right now. Considering he was young and healthy, people thought he must be exaggerating.
“And you lectured me about taking care of myself,” Nico grumbled.
Wow. Ryan looked over and saw Nico looking half-mulish, half-puckish—like he wasn’t sure if he was teasing or issuing a challenge. The mocking edge to his mouth, a little hint of a smirk, was… okay, it was sexy.
Damn it.