Page 13 of Reckless On Ice

I’m shocked he would deny me this ego boost. It would be nice to know a gay dude finds me attractive, yet he wants to bring me down instead. How mean. I guess even golden boys can play dirty.

My phone buzzes with a notification that our pizza has arrived, and thankfully, my ego is spared any further beatings.

Eight

Knox

Ryder took me coming out better than I expected. True, it was on the heels of one of his typical homophobic tirades and an epic blowup of his short temper that he can’t quite keep under control, but the actual coming out part wasn’t too bad.

I could tell he was trying hard not to fuck things up before we played video games, too. The offer to order pizza for dinner and showing me those eye drills was a huge olive branch and a step in the right direction for him, even if they are the bare minimum of human decency. Baby steps from a chronic asshole are all I can hope for. It was good to see him making an effort when he could have been reticent to any sort ofchange and set on acting like a pernicious jackass for as long as possible.

The eye stuff he showed me made a huge difference, too. He reminded me to repeat the exercises before bed, and my headache finally went away. I woke up without the stiff neck and pounding in my skull I’d had for the last forty-eight hours. It felt amazing to finally get a good night’s rest. He didn’t have to give two shits about me when I was feeling horrible, and I believe in positive reinforcement.

“Good, you’re back from practice,” I say when I walk into the condo after my own practice and find him lounging on the couch with a bowl of cereal. I don't usually eat on the couch, but instead of calling him out for that, I’ll let it slide for now. “We’re going to work on controlling emotions in public today. That mouth of yours is going to get a workout in restraint.”

He closes his eyes tightly and shakes his head. “It’s really hard not to take the bait and crack a gay joke when you leave the opening right there,” he says, sounding pained. “That mouth of yours is going to get a workout? Come on, Golden Boy, do better.”

“No, you do better, Reckless. The world is full of opportunities for you to make jokes in poor taste. The marker of comportment isnotmaking the joke even when it’s set up perfectly. Rise above it,” I say with faux cheer, pointing my index fingers up.

He sneers at me. “You’re seriously the worst. Why do you insist on removing all the fun from everything? Humor is agreat way to enjoy life. You should try it sometime.”

“Get up, we’re going to volunteer with a foundation that does great work. We’ll leave in five minutes, so master your emotions and that mouth,” I say, walking past him toward the bedrooms so I can put my bag down and change quickly.

“What if I have plans and don’t want to go with you?” he calls to my back.

“Too bad. Mark said your time is mine when it comes to making over your image and getting your emotions interview-ready. You’re going with me. If you’re good, we can stop and get ice cream on the way home,” I tack on with forced enthusiasm, like he’s a child just to poke him a bit.

“Hey, those aren't the fighting words you think they are. I like ice cream, Golden Boy!” he shouts. “Now you owe me ice cream.”

I close my bedroom door on that demand and change. When I return to the living room, Ryder is standing by the door, running his hands through his longish, silky hair that always looks a little wild, cereal bowl gone. I was joking, but it looks like ice cream is a good enough motivator and can be his positive reinforcement for today.

“Let’s go,” I say, trying not to look too closely at, or let him get to me with his pretty hazel-green eyes, that floppy hair, and his stupid tattoos that peek out from the sleeves of his T-shirt. He has half sleeves on both arms that stop just above his elbows with swirling clouds of black ink, but I’m not sure what the tattoos are.

“You gonna tell me what we’re doing now?” he asks as we head for the elevator, sliding on a backward baseball cap to contain his messy hair. It doesn't help make him less eye-fuckable, and that’s a problem. I don't want to look at Ryder like that. I need to keep my lust in check where he’s concerned.

“We’re going to volunteer at an organization I work with a lot called the Elysium Garden Project. They plant gardens in urban spaces and give locals jobs, teach business skills through produce stands, and feed the community. We’ll be working with kids today. Elysium focuses a lot on youth in the communities they plant gardens in, knowing the skills they build can help break the cycle of poverty and get these kids out of some bad situations. A lot of these kids have it rough,” I explain as the elevator takes us to the garage.

Ryder is quiet as we walk to my SUV. He grew up like a lot of the kids he’ll meet today. Absent parents working hard to keep a roof over their heads, or treated badly by them when around. He slides into the front seat as I start the car and looks over.

“What exactly are you trying to teach me with this excursion? I do plenty of volunteer work.” He looks straight ahead as I drive us to the garden.

“It’s not about the volunteer work, that’s just a bonus. These kids will push your buttons. They’re not always nice and don't always want to be there, kind of like you.” I give him a wry smile that he doesn’t return. “So instead of snappingat anyone, you’ll have to work to control your emotions and think before you react.” I leave him alone for the remainder of the drive to let that sink in.

We arrive at the garden site, and I see Paige Olsen, the founder of the Elysium Garden Project, waiting at the gate, greeting the kids and adults working today.

“Knox, it’s so good to see you,” she says, wrapping me in a hug when Ryder and I walk up to her. “I didn’t expect to see you much during the season, what a treat to get you and Ryder at one of our newest gardens. The kids are going to love it.”

“I didn't realize you knew Mrs. Olsen,” Ryder says to me, looking between us.

“Oh, please, call me Paige,” she says to Ryder. “Mrs. Olsen is reserved just for my husband to call me, otherwise, it feels too dowdy. I’m not even thirty.” She laughs and waves us into the garden.

“I’ve been working with the foundation from its inception, so I’m close with Paige and Hayes. They didn’t become hockey franchise owners until recently, so we go way back,” I explain to Ryder, who is looking confused about my connection to the wife of one of the billionaire brothers who owns the Hydras hockey team.

“He’s also besties with Harlowe, my sister-in-law, and he’s friendly with Ainsley, who is dating Payton, so that’s a triple connection to team ownership. Careful, Ryder, Knox is well-connected to the big guys,” Paige adds with a smile. “We just love Knox.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ryder says, looking at me nervously. I laugh at his discomfort. It’s about time he realizes I also have some power here, not that I’d ever use it to fuck with his career. He can do that well enough on his own.

“What can we do for you today, Paige?” I ask.

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