Page 81 of Scoring Position

Because after a difficult season, after struggling with his game and finding a way to get past his mental hang-ups, after the humiliation and self-loathing of being told to make nice with Ryan turned into friendship and gratitude and affection, after he’d made peace with his dumpster fire of a team, the members of which he loved, after years of obsessing over what his dad would say crumbled under a newfound determination to live his life, this was how it would end—with a breakup and a trade. All he could do now was try to hold in his guts until the wound could scab over.

But if he had to get on the next available flight, that healing would have to happen in Vancouver.

Nico packed while he was on hold with the airline booking his flight. Then he called Ryan’s agent and left a message about the house. It was too much hassle to sell before the off-season. Whatever else happened, he wouldn’t leave Ryan homeless.

Unfortunately, he only got as far as calling for a ride to the airport before he ran out of distractions.

Just a few months ago, he’d thought he wouldn’t be able to leave Indianapolis even if he wanted to, at least not for years. Now he’d been traded to a good team, one easily positioned to make playoffs, and he couldn’t even appreciate it.

He didn’t want to go. He wanted a better coach, better management, to come to Indy. No one deserved to play under these conditions. But he didn’t have a choice. Very likely, Vancouver was going to be his home for the next several years.

The minutes ticked by as Nico waited for his ride, anxiously watching time run out. Ryan might come home from Yorkie’s if he heard the news. They might have a minute to talk about what happened last night.

Because it didn’t make sense. In the cold light of day, what had they even fought about? Ryan wouldn’t report Vorhees’s behavior to someone who could do anything about it. Nico thought that was stupid, but he understood that Ryan’s position in the league wasn’t as secure as his. He didn’t think keeping quiet was the right choice, but he could live with it if that was the one Ryan made.

But where the argument had gone from there? Where did Ryan get off accusing Nico of using him to get back at his dad somehow, when his dad didn’t even know about their relationship? That didn’t sound like something he’d believe. So maybe the opposite was the real problem—that Nico hadn’t told his father.

Did Ryan feel like Nico’s dirty secret? If he did, why did he lie? It was like he knew exactly what buttons to push to hurt Nico, and he’d pushed them on purpose—pushed Nico away. He could’ve just said he wanted Nico to tell his dad about them, and Nico would’ve done it, and they could have avoided this whole thing.

The more Nico thought about it, the more it seemed like Ryan was just looking for an excuse. Maybe Nico had been naïve to think Ryan cared for him beyond convenient sex and a place to sleep, and Ryan was too chickenshit to break up with him, so he pushed until Nico did it instead.

It wasn’t like they’d ever talked about how they felt about each other.Hockey players are allergic to feelings, Ryan had said. Warned him? Nico had never brought it up either—he didn’t think he needed to. Ryan read him so well.

But whether Ryan knew how Nico felt about him didn’t matter now. He was an asshole either way.

And yet Nico still watched for lights approaching the driveway while razor-edged butterflies danced in his stomach. If Ryan came home this morning, if he heard about the trade, if it meant enough to him, maybe he would realize he gave a shit about Nico after all and make it home before Nico had to go. Maybe they could figure out what had happened between them and fix it. Becausesomethinghad been bothering Ryan last night at the Wreck Center, something beyond what he told Nico. Ryan could be an asshole, but he wasn’t cruel.

There was still a chance, he told himself. The Fuel had practice this morning, but Ryan could skip it. Or it might even be canceled, after yesterday.

He kept telling himself that right up until headlights pulled into the driveway.

The garage didn’t open.

“Where to?” the cab driver asked when Nico climbed into the back seat.

Nico closed his eyes and let go of the hope. “Indianapolis International.”

He should’ve known that it wouldn’t be that easy.

ALL TOLD,Ryan thought he was handling Nico’s trade pretty well.

It was everything else he was having trouble with—the gaping hole in his chest where Nico should be, the suffocating guilt over the way he had dismissed Nico’s feelings… and sick fury over Rees’s betrayal. Had he only wanted Ryan to help Nico get his game back to increase his trade value all along? That didn’t seem practical; Lundström was as good a defenseman as the one they’d traded Nico for, and his cap hit was lower. So why trade him, then?

It didn’t add up… unless Rees had been playing him all along.

But Ryan didn’t have time to process his feelings about it, because he had to sit through another awful practice under Vorhees, now without even the faintest hope that the team’s situation would improve.

Ryan had attended wakes less somber. The shocking loss of Kitty, their star defenseman, and Nico, now one of their top scorers, had left the team reeling. Chenner looked as green as he had at the start of the year. Lefty and Mucker might have been around longer, but they looked no less unbalanced.

Ryan had put serious thought into skipping practice, but Yorkie had given him a look before he left his house, and he’d had to concede the point. Getting scratched for missing practice wouldn’t help anything.

So he was forced to go directly from Yorkie’s to the arena.

Vorhees seemed to be taking even more of a “throw line combinations at the wall and see what sticks” approach than usual, because he cycled through the forwards like he was pulling the handle on a slot machine, chewing his gum and scowling. He hadn’t liked Nico, but he seemed to like doing without him even less.

“Wright!”

Ryan jumped.

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