Page 98 of Scoring Position

Nico was about to defend himself—though he wasn’t sure from which implication—when the alarm on his phone buzzed to remind him to get ready for practice. It would be his first time in the playoffs, and he wanted all the prep he could get.

It sucked that it meant cutting short his first real conversation with Ryan in ages. “I have to go,” he said. “I have to get ready for skate.”And change my shirt.

Ryan smiled tightly, not quite a grimace. “Hey, I get it. You’ve got important hockey left to play.”

And I don’t.Ryan didn’t say the words, but Nico heard them anyway. He would’ve bristled at the passive-aggression of it, but Ryan was already wincing like he knew how it had come out.

“Light ’em up for me, okay?” he said, and this time he sounded like he meant it. Then, before Nico could answer, “Talk to you later, Otter.”

The call went dark before Nico had a chance to reply.

It wasn’t the best possible outcome for a conversation, but it went better than he thought it would. HemissedRyan, not just sex or physical affection, but talking to him, listening to his dumb jokes. The texts had helped, but it wasn’t the same. Neither was this, but it was a step in the right direction.

Nico was going to take all the wins he could get.

Skate went by in a whirlwind of focus. Nico hung on every word the coach said and watched the team’s veterans like a hawk, trying to strike a balance between gearing up for a deep playoff run and not exhausting himself with nothing on the line.

When he couldn’t get his mind to shut off for his pregame nap, he rolled over, stared at the ceiling for twenty seconds, and then jerked off fast and almost mean, remembering the way Ryan had pinned him to the wall in the shower after the All-Star Break.

He was almost embarrassed about how well he slept after that.

And then the game—God, thegame. They had the home ice advantage, and the whole city felt electric. The hair on Nico’s arms stood up when he walked into the arena, and it didn’t settle again until he was good and sweaty in the middle of the first period, hauling ass down the ice with the puck on his stick and the roar of the fans in his ears.

There was nothing,nothinglike the feeling when the puck hit the back of the net, when his teammates slammed into him, when the crowd erupted for him, in his new city, his first playoff goal.

Or so he thought until he broke a tie in the third period with two minutes to go—two goals, one of them the game winner, in his first playoff game ever.

His postgame interview barely felt real. He couldn’t stop smiling. And when he finally finished, Jordan and Noah were waiting for him, looking just like he felt. “All right, Groot,” Jordan said, throwing his arm over Nico’s shoulders. “Fifteen more games just like that, okay?”

It sounded like a plan.

THE KITCHENwas as clean as Ryan could make it.

He’d thrown out all the food—even remembered to take out the bags on garbage day—and run the dishwasher. The only thing in the fridge now was Nico’s jam. The cupboards were bare except for dishes and tea.

The rest of the house required less action. He’d packed up the few belongings he’d bothered bringing to Indianapolis, and he’d even found the stylus for his tablet tucked between his mattress and the bedframe when he stripped the sheets to wash.

And now he was zipping up his suitcase, doing one last check to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Nico had hired a professional team of movers to come and pack everything up and store it until he signed his next contract, and Ryan didn’t know when or if he’d be able to access it.

This season hadn’t been anything like what he expected. Or—well, okay, parts of it had absolutely been the shitshow he expected. But he hadn’t expected the good parts that came with it.

He definitely hadn’t expected to be the team’s fourth-highest scorer through the final two months of the season.

It felt good… but terrifying.

Of course, part of it was that the Fuel didn’t have a ton of high scorers to compete with. But he could see his work paying off. His body went harder, faster, smoother. He took chances on the ice that he never would’ve dared before because he had put in the effort to have the confidence they would pay off.

And if he’d listened toChop Wood Carry Waterbefore bed, no one had to know. It put him in a good frame of mind to get some rest, as that one flight with Nico showed.

It gave him hope, because getting over himself and doing his best had made a difference in his professional life.

It also scared the shit out of him, because if he could work on his hockey issues, he could work on his relationship ones and build something real with Nico. But that didn’t guarantee it would last.

He could find out, though. He was going home to Vancouver, and Nico—Nico wasinVancouver at least part-time right now, playing like he was out of his mind, making opposing defenders look like pylons and grinning like a man possessed every time he slammed the puck home. He wouldn’t have a lot of time for Ryan until the playoffs were over, but Ryan wouldn’t hold that against him. Honestly, just watching….

Something buzzed in his pocket.

He frowned at the blocked number on his screen and answered. “Hello?”

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