Page 69 of The Trade Deadline
I don’t have to wait a week for that do I?
Again, Ryan laughed to himself. He was stupidly fond of Lars, and he really hoped in a week he’d get to prove it to him.
I’ll bring it to breakfast
meet you down there in thirty k?
He made a mental note to stock up on strawberries, creamer, and honey when he got back to his apartment. Three things he’d never purchased together, but now sudden necessities. He didn’t think Lars would like his instant coffee without something sweet to water it down, nor would he take too kindly to Ryan’s “chocolate” flavored whey protein that just tasted like chalk.
Yep. Whatever this was between them, it wasn’t something he could work out of his system with one quick fuck. Hopefully indulging wouldn’t backfire.
* * *
They were able to fall back into their normal routine easily, as if nothing had happened and nothing was going to. They still sat next to each other on the bus and during meals, but they forced themselves to gravitate to others during the player meeting and in the locker room. It made Ryan hope that the trend would continue, that they’d be able to maintain the right balance of distance and favoritism from the past few days so no one would suspect anything.
Not that there’s anything to suspect right now,though that was hardly the point.
Tonight they played the Bay Area Brawlers, leaving right after the game to go directly to the airport. They’d leave San Francisco and arrive in Anaheim hopefully before 2 am. Ryan hated west coast road trips.
During the warm-ups, while most of the team did their usual skate, stretches, and superstitions, Ryan did his: he skated over to center ice. Almost immediately, he heard a mix of “RJ!” and “Rusty!” and “Ryan!” as four guys skated over from the Brawlers. This was Ryan’s tradition in every city but Austin, where he’d check in with former teammates. It felt…necessary. He’d never been able to put it into words, but he liked that it made sure his past wasn’t erased. He might not be happy about how he left some of his former teams, but he’dbeenthere. He’d helped, he’d played, he’d been on the bench celebrating with them. Trading him couldn’t take that away.
“Hey, guys,” Ryan said, fistbumping them. One of the players was from his time in Vancouver, two from Vermont (though not at the same time), and one he knew from the AHL. “How’s it been?”
They talked the shit, general woes about how the Brawlers were doing this season and excitement about their upcoming home stand that started with their game tonight.
“Nice weather for it, too,” Ryan said. Baltimore wasn’t as bad as Vermont in December, but he liked the warmer temperatures courtesy of certain road trips. He didn’t think he could ever give up winter permanently, but he enjoyed the little escapes.
“Nothing like Burlington, eh?” one joked while another pointed his chin towards the Crabs and said, “What’s it like playing with Nilsson?”
Ryan looked over his shoulder. Lars was passing back and forth with Jake, the sort of familiarity between them that showed they were clicking as linemates. This wasn’t the first time people had asked him about Lars. If someone brought him up, it was either with awe or annoyance. And he got it. Lars had tunnel vision in games. If you weren’t wearing the same jersey as him, you were invisible, not human but rather an obstacle. Ryan almost envied his ability to shut them out; when Ryan looked at opposing teams, all he saw was the past: people he’d played with, ones he’d shut down or who had shut him down, lost connections from people he’d shared his life with, day in and day out for months until suddenly, he didn’t.
He shrugged and turned back to them. “He’s all right.”
“Hear he’s kind of a tool,” his AHL buddy Cody said. “But I think at that pay grade they all are.”
Ryan bristled but shook it off. “He doesn’t always make a good first impression,” he conceded. He didn’t want to talk about Lars, so he said dismissively, “I’m never on the ice with him or anything, but he gets points, so.”
“Hearyou’regetting points.” Matty from Vancouver was chewing gum like a weirdo and looking at him with a wide grin. He tapped Ryan’s leg with his stick. “Career year.”
Ryan’s chest swelled with pride. Someone noticed. “Yeah, seems like. Maybe get an extension from it.”
“Good luck, bro,” he said with genuine understanding. “You deserve it.”
They started to drift backwards towards the Brawlers. “No goals tonight, though,” Cody said with a wink. “I’m not letting you off easy just ‘cuz we won the Calder together.”
Ryan smiled fondly. The only good thing that had come out of his time in the AHL was winning the Calder Cup. Everything else about the experience had made him feel like a fraud for trying to play in the NHL. The reminder of that achievement loosened the last knots of tension that had been lingering the past few days. Things were looking good.
* * *
They lost their last two games of the road trip and flew back to BWI in bad spirits. No one liked to lose, but it was especially annoying when you traveled across the country to do it. No one was in a good mood when they landed, only grunting at each other as they went their separate ways.
“Optional skate tomorrow,” Thompkins said, looking about as disinterested in the idea as they did. “Gotta rework some things.”
“It’s been five days.” Lars fell into step beside Ryan as they headed to the airport garage. “But we could grab dinner. That’s allowed, right?” His smile, unsure as it was, still brightened his face, especially with his eyes lit up in hope. His hair was getting longer, a mess of dirty blond that was almost below his eyes. Just begging for someone to run their hands through it.
Maybe it was the exhausting flight or the waiting, but Ryan didn’t have it in him to argue.
“I mean, five days is a full work week, right? Basically rounds up to seven.”
