Page 14 of The Trade Deadline
Nope.
He tried to fall back into his workout, putting the music all the way up and willing his body to pump enough adrenaline through him that he wouldn’t be able to think. Maybe he went at it a little harder than usual, because soon a trainer came over, tapped him on the shoulder, and told him to take it easy for the rest of the day.
“Can’t have you injured before we start,” she joked.
“Right, sorry.” He was such a mess.
On the mats reserved for stretching, he found Peter Berg sprawled on the ground and scrolling through his phone.
“Hey, Bergsy.” He offered the younger player a fist bump as he sat down next to him and started stretching. “Ready for it to get real?”
“Always,” Peter said. “Unreal getting Nilsson, right? We’re gonna light up the scoreboard.”
Peter was a winger, and while it might be technically possible that he’d be on a line with Lars, Ryan thought it unlikely. He’d mostly gotten bottom-six minutes last year and still hadn’t gotten a look at either Power Play unit. Not that Ryan would be the one to bust his bubble.
“I bet you will.” He paused, relaxing into a quad stretch, before he asked, “Did he remember your name?”
Peter beamed. “He did. Called me Petey and everything.”
Great, so it was just Ryan he couldn’t remember. “You hate being called that,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but he’s Lars Nilsson. He can call me whatever he wants. Besides, he doesn’t know that.”
Ryan switched legs. He didn’t know why, but he said, “He thinks my name is Brian.”
Peter made a face. “That stinks.” A pause, as he considered Ryan. “You don’t even look like a Brian.”
“Thanks?”
“I wouldn’t let it bother you. No one uses our names but Monroe. He’ll learn you’re RJ ‘round here, and then we won’t have to worry about any random Peteys or Brians.” Peter looked over to consider Lars, who was at the far end of the gym surrounded by three players and a trainer as he did what looked like an impressive amount of weight on the bench press. “He’s also foreign, right? Probably not a lot of Brians or Ryans in Sweden.”
Ryan really appreciated that Peter was taking this seriously. Normally Ryan would laugh it off. Everything Peter said was true, after all. The problem was he and Lars had history, and part of him waspissedit meant absolutely nothing to Lars. Irrational? Probably. Ryan couldn’t claim he remembered the names of everyone he’d slept with, but he was confident he’drecognizethem. Maybe.
Ugh.
The rest of the day, Lars’s attention seemed to land on Ryan more often than anyone else. It was weird, turning around and finding Lars in his space offering polite, completely inane comments. He offered to spot Ryan no less than three times and asked for restaurant recommendations, of all things (Ryan couldn’t tell if he’d put together a coherent response to that one; it'd caught him off guard and he only knew restaurants through their delivery), and he never seemed to be far away.
On one hand, Ryan was empathetic—moving to a new team was always hard as you tried to find your place there—but on the other, it was weird. Why had Lars latched onto Ryan specifically? Ryan had gone out of his way to show he had zero interest in conversation with Lars (yes, he was still annoyed about the Juniors thing, sue him), and while it was only the younger guys who were star struck, everyone was obviously more welcoming than Ryan.
He assumed Lars would grow bored of Ryan’s lukewarm sentiment, especially when they got onto the ice. Maybe Lars was making an effort because he’d mistakenly thought Ryan was one of the better players. Ryan knew he looked good in the gym and it might give the impression he was a higher caliber player than he actually was, but once they started doing drills and working on systems, it should become clear he was middle of the pack.
During the drills, he pointedly ignored Lars even when he took a knee next to Ryan during the run through of a new Penalty Kill setup. Whatever Lars’s interest was with him, Ryan couldn’t afford to slack off during practice. He needed to give 100% effort at all times, or if unable to, he had to show he was focused andtrying. His mistakes couldn’t look like they were from a lack of commitment to the team but just errors he would work out of his system by the time the season started.
For a couple hours, he lost himself in the game. He’d always been able to slip into hockey and shed his mental burdens. He’d escaped school, his sisters’ drama, his shitty part time jobs that barely covered his gear, his general feelings of inadequacy—all of it had disappeared when he’d hit the ice. And yeah, he’d maybe let it become a coping mechanism whenever he was stressed (which was a bitch of a cycle, given that most of his stress these days was job-related and it was his unfortunate choice of careers to pick hockey), but there was no denying how damngoodit felt.
He did well, he thought. Maybe a little rusty with the team play—the clinics he’d attended over the summer were mostly about individual skills with only a few opportunities for scrimmages or mini-games—but he’d pick that back up by the end of the week. Coach Thompkins would probably have some notes for him moving forward; he’d have to remember to ask for some if Thompkins didn’t approach him about it. All in all, a good start, and he was satisfied.
When they stepped off the ice, though, he once again felt the weight of Lars’s gaze. His cheeks heated up and he did his best not to look at him. As much as Lars’s attention had bothered him before, he wasn't ready to face the friendliness becoming indifference as he realized Ryan wasn’t where he should focus his effort.
In the locker room, Ryan rushed to his stall to get undressed and escape this fiasco of a second meeting (okay, fiasco was pushing it, but he still wasn’t happy about it and wanted to go home to wallow a bit). He joked around with his stall neighbors, hoping that by pretending to be normal he would be. When the team playlist was handed to him for his turn, well, there was really only one choice if he was pretending to be his usual self.
“Born in the USA” flooded the room, the Americans jumping up to sing off key and taunt their non-American teammates, which triggered a brief playlist war between the Americans and Canadians. Back and forth they traded songs, complete with loudly shout-singing the choruses at each other until Coach Thompkins interrupted Ryan and Jordan’s terrible rendition of “Party in the USA” to remind them they needed to actually go home and rest or their next practice would be nothing but suicides.
Rosy cheeked and laughing with his buddies, Ryan realized he'd totally forgotten about Lars Nilsson…until the moment he sat back down to take off his shoulder pads and saw Lars eyeing him curiously.
Maybe all the America stuff jogged his memory?He hoped not. Belatedly remembering Ryan would be more awkward, since it would require Ryan to admit he’d never forgotten and knew Lars had.
“See you tomorrow, Brian!” Lars said with a friendly wave as they headed to their cars.
