Page 72 of Scoring Position

“Worse. Papa is… not happy about the rumors about me this season. The team PR loves it and is more than happy to feed into all the speculation, but every time something new comes out, I get a phone call.”

“And the penny drops. Old-fashioned Agent Dad doesn’t see any value in having fun. Or in any PR that’s not about hockey.”

Nico swigged his wine. “In having a roommate that’s ‘not my equal.’ In fact, in spending any time at all with ‘some third-liner who won’t up my game.’ I’d tell him that Ryan was the best thing to happen to my hockey this year, but I don’t think he’d believe me.”

For a moment Ella concentrated on her plate. Nico couldn’t blame her; the steaming garlic butter shrimp smelled amazing. Then she delicately dabbed her mouth with a napkin, laid it to the side, and said, “Forgive me for the stupid question, but have you considered telling him to stay out of your personal life?”

Yeah, Nico should do that, except also—“He’s my dad.”

She shrugged. “I had to ask.”

They polished off their dinners without saying much more, but they stayed on the balcony to watch the sun turn the water a brilliant, burning red.

When the sun had set, Ella split the last of the wine between their glasses, put her foot up on the balcony railing, and said, “Let me ask you something. Hypothetically.” Her lips rose in a teasing smile.

“Funny,” Nico said, but he gestured with his glass for her to go ahead.

“So your thing with Ryan is like a rom-com. Roommates of convenience turned into boyfriends. Yes?”

“I guess.”

“How does it end?” She polished off the dregs of her wine. “I mean, your happy-ever-after.”

The question made his stomach flip. At first he thought maybe he’d had too much wine—sometimes it hit different than liquor—but it wasn’t the alcohol. It was the fact that he couldn’t see an answer.

WHEN HISagent called, Ryan was in the hot tub by himself after a modified morning workout. Everyone else had hit the slopes, though he expected them back anytime. They never skied long when he was visiting.

The sight of her name on the call display made him flinch. Was this it? They were coming up on the trade deadline. The next two weeks would involve a flurry of last-minute deals to get players to teams for the playoffs push.

Only one way to find out. “Hi, Diane.”

“Ryan! For a minute I thought you were going to let me go to voicemail.”

He’d thought about it. “That would be unprofessional.”

She snorted. “Right. Listen, do you have a few minutes? I want to make sure we’re on the same page about a few things.”

He reached over and turned the jets off. Better to get it over with. At least it didn’t sound like he’d been dealt again. “I’m all yours. What’s up?”

“I want to talk contract expectations. Obviously barring the Fuel offering an extension, you’re going to be a free agent as of July 1. We should talk about your salary expectations, what sort of term you’re looking for, no-go teams….”

No-go teams.Yeah right. Guys like Ryan didn’t get to be that picky. “All right.”

Then he waited for her to continue.

After a moment she said, “You don’t have any idea how to do this, do you?”

He groaned. “I never expected to make it to the NHL in the first place. I signed UFA after college, after getting invited to a PTO by a scout who was at my game to headhunt someone else. I am an undrafted, undersized bottom-six forward. You don’t have to ease me into it. My expectations are realistic.”

Diane was too professional to mutter under her breath, but her silence gave him the impression that she wanted to. “Do you and I have different ideas of what realistic is? Keeping in mind that when you get paid, I get paid. And I like getting paid, Ryan.”

He rubbed his temple. His first full year he’d made league minimum, but when he signed an extension two years ago, he’d doubled his pay. He would’ve expected a modest raise in Montreal, but that was before… well,before. It would be more difficult to get a good contract from a team that didn’t know him. “Everyone likes getting paid. But it’s not the only thing.”

“Which is why I’m calling.” He could hear tapping—her standard ballpoint pen against her legal pad. Diane was old-school like that. “What’s the priority here? Are you looking to go cheap to a Cup contender? Give Vancouver a hometown discount? Give me something to work with.”

Well… if he wasn’t going to getpaid, those options didn’t suck. “Yeah, I mean, either of those?”

“See, now we’re getting somewhere. Any teams that are hard nos? Or no unless they offer north of…?”

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