Page 32 of The Trade Deadline
Lars sat there, staring at Ryan like he was expecting a punchline. When he realized Ryan wasn’t going to expand, he eventually asked, “What about it?”
“I’m glad you asked,” he said with his best salesperson voice. “So the Crabs sponsor a few local programs, and I volunteer whenever I can, and I promise to coerce other players from the team to stop by. It really motivates the kids and I can offer you beer and pizza to sweeten the deal if kids aren’t your thing.”
Lars stared at him blankly. “Youth hockey? Here?”
Ryan couldn’t help but bristle. He forced aside bad memories from Juniors. “What, in America?” he said and couldn’t quite keep the warning note from his voice.
“No, I mean.” Lars gestured vaguely to their surroundings. Even in the locker room, there were no less than three Maryland flags in plain sight. No doubt more lurked in places Ryan simply hadn’t noticed. “Here.”
“Maryland’s growing its program,” Ryan said carefully. It wasn’t nearly as robust as what he’d known growing up in Montana, but even in the past few seasons he’d been involved, he’d seen growth.
“It’s just…sowarmhere. Does it even snow?”
“Sometimes.”And then all the schools close down and I’m trapped in my apartment because the roads are for shit. Not atalllike Montana.
Lars didn’t seem convinced. Ryan didn’t blame him. It was Maryland, a state that only avoided being called southern by virtue of being forced to fight for the Union. It wasn’t Montana or Sweden or a place that looked like it understood ice. Still, there were more bizarre cities with teams. If Texas could have an NHL team, you couldn’t fault Maryland for trying to develop young players.
As if sensing this was a hill Ryan was completely willing to die on, he shrugged and said, “Sure. When?”
“Really?”
“Did you expect me to say no? Yes, I’ll come.”
“Was it helping the kids or the beer that got you?”
Something flitted through Lars’s expression, so fast Ryan couldn’t pinpoint what he saw. “Obviously helping the kids.”
“So I don’t need to get you a beer?”
“You do. To recover from the kids. I have a niece and nephew. I know children are monsters,” he said conspiratorially.
Ryan laughed. “Ohh, I know. I’ve got plenty of nieces and nephews. The hockey kids are pretty good. They’ll be too in awe of you to act up. They’ll be showing off like crazy, though.” He stood up. “Bring a Crabs jersey, a stick, and skates. Expect lots of autographs and pictures, but we’ll be on the ice for at least an hour.”
Lars nodded solemnly. “I’ll be ready. And then you take me out for beer. And you have to drink one.”
“That’s not?—”
“Just one. I’ll get you a protein shake to make up for it.” His blue eyes were wide and pleading. He was kind of adorable, a treacherous thought Ryan immediately quashed.
“No promises,” Ryan said. He knew if Lars batted his baby blues at him again, he’d cave. He didn’t need Lars figuring that out, though. “I’ll text you the deets.”
* * *
They met in the parking lot of a rink just outside of the city proper. There weren’t any camera crews or handlers there to shepherd them around, only some parents and families who eyed the two of them with unabashed interest.
“Is this really the right place?” Lars sounded nervous as he waved to a couple teenagers not-so-surreptitiously taking their picture. “Where is everyone?”
“This is it,” Ryan promised. “Like I said, I volunteer. This isn’t a press thing. The kids’ll be inside getting dressed. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the coaches.”
The facility had two rinks, one currently taken over by figure skating lessons, and the other getting zambed before practice. The coaches welcomed Ryan warmly and then nearly fainted when they saw Lars.
“Lars Nilsson!” the older one said. “I saw your daddy win the Cup! Spent a month’s pay for those tickets!”
Lars’s smile was perfect despite it not quite reaching his eyes. “I was there, too. Can’t remember it, though.”
“You must’ve been what? Seven?”
“Three,” Lars said with an edge to his voice Ryan had never heard before. “So what do you need from us?”
