Page 95 of The Trade Deadline
One person might think something of it,he thought, then dismissed the concern. Even if Anders walked in on him and Ryan having sex, word wouldn’t travel. Lars wasn’t Anders’s biggest fan, not by a long shot, but he knew his brother wasn’t purposefully cruel. He wouldn’t say or do anything to hurt them.
As if sensing Lars’s attention on him, his gaze shifted and their eyes met. He nodded slightly, then turned back to Anton, a rare smile breaking on his face as he responded to whatever it was the boy was saying. Lars tried to ignore the way that made his chest ache.
Chapter28
Ryan
Ryan wasable to command Lars’s attention for a whole forty-five minutes. Long enough to check both rooms (equally sized and identical except for being mirror images of each other, which was strangely comforting) and trade handjobs. Before the afterglow could settle in, Lars was on his back staring at the ceiling, his hands clasped on his chest and eyes distant.
“You okay?” Ryan asked.
Lars didn’t answer him at first. He’d been so sure Anders wouldn’t be here, and Ryan had assumed Lars knew his brother well enough to believe him. Lars had been so blindsided, Ryan himself had felt it like whiplash.
It was so hard to get to the NHL. The circumstances that would have to align for two brothers to make it were even rarer, and being on the same team was pretty much unheard of. Yeah, it happened, but Ryan had the gut feeling Lars had told his agent to make damn sure it didn’t happen to him. They’d be together this weekend in the same jersey for the first time since…
Had they even played for Team Sweden together? There hadn’t been any Olympics that allowed NHL players since Ryan and Lars were old enough to qualify. The brothers were so far apart in age, this might very well be the first time they were officially on the same roster.
“I’m glad my nephew is here,” he finally answered. “He’s a good boy. He’ll have fun.”
What he didn’t say rang much louder.
I’m not happy my brother is here.
He’s awful.
I won’t be able to relax at all this weekend now.
Ryan didn’t get it. In general, he didn’t like giving people he disliked power over his mood and therefore his performance. He doubly didn’t get Lars’s animosity. Yeah, Anders was rough on the ice, but in the lobby he’d been perfectly polite to both of them. Not warm or anything, but Ryan got the impression his distance was more about respecting Lars’s boundaries than anything to do with his own feelings about it.
Like when his big sisters had given him space in public because he’d found them embarrassing.
He didn’t think Lars would appreciate the comparison.
* * *
The All Star fanfare reminded him a lot of Juniors, except this time people seemed to notice Ryan as a person and not just the team he played for. It was great, doing all the interviews and talking to the other players, all of whomknew him. They congratulated him and brought up his Michigan goal like Ryan Russell was actually a name known around the league. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t let it go to his head, but he did allow himself to enjoy it for now. What was one weekend as a star? Better than none, that was for sure.
He’d worried briefly that Lars’s mood would suffer because of his brother’s unexpected appearance, but Lars did a good job of pretending he was unbothered. He played with his nephew Anton in the hotel as promised and the two were glued at the hip on the rink. Whenever Ryan dared to sneak a glance at Anders, he was wearing the closest thing to a smile Ryan had ever seen on his face.
It was surprisingly easy to ignore Anders most of the time. Aside from keeping an eye on Anton, he never imposed himself on Lars. He talked to the other players, to the refs, basically anyone who wasn’t Lars Nilsson. Lars was great at keeping his back to Anders 99% of the time, like he was pretending he didn’t know that Anders was there yet knew exactly where he was, but was forced to watch Anders compete in the hardest shot competition. He won with a 102 mph shot that Lars clapped for only when his nephew jumped up and down in excitement.
It was very different from when Lars was in the trick shot contest. He did it with Anton, a play where Lars skated in hard, faked a shot, then did a drop pass for his nephew. The goalie did a great job pretending to try and stop the puck, and Anton looked extremely pleased. Anders had filmed the whole thing, actually grinning when his son scored and whooping happily. He’d put his phone away before Lars could see, though.
Even though the brothers were playing nice, Ryan was apprehensive about taking his own turn. He wasn’t babysitting them, exactly, but he liked being there in case Lars broke their unspoken truce and took a swing at Anders. But as his competition came up, Lars was practically vibrating with excitement. Ryan decided to hell with the Nilsson brothers: this was his first (and probably only) All Star weekend. He was going to enjoy it.
He was put in the timed passing contest, just as Lars had predicted. It was simple enough—basically hitting pucks into small nets at different distances and heights, with the fastest time winning. He’d done a million of these in practices over his life, but this was the first time the whole damned hockey world was watching him do it.
“You’ll be great,” Lars promised over the cheers as his name was called. “I promise.”
Ryan got in position, first puck at the ready, and waited. As soon as the timer sounded, he sank the first puck. And the second, then the third. It was only on the fourth that he messed up, needing three tries to get his saucer pass over the little barrier and into the net. The last two went smoothly, much to his utter relief. He’d done it, and as an added bonus, he hadn’t completely sucked! He didn’t even remember to look at his time before he practically rushed back to Lars on the bench, who high-fived him and grinned proudly.
Although he didn’t win, he got a respectable third place out of eight participants, losing to last season’s point leader and MVP, respectively. Honestly, not bad at all. Definitely none of the nightmare scenarios he’d conjured up the night before where he couldn’t get any of them before time expired and he was kicked off the ice. As much as he didn’t want to embarrass himself (still possible), he didn’t want to let down the people who’d voted for him. For whatever reason, whether it was Lars canvassing for votes or general fan support, there were people out there who thought he deserved a shot, and he felt he hadn’t let them down.
That got them through Thursday and Friday with no issues, but Saturday was what had Ryan’s stomach in knots. The mini-tournament divided each division into a team, and then had the eastern teams play each other for a spot in the finals while the west did the same. As the Metropolitan division team, they’d face the Atlantic team in a 3-on-3 style game. Which was all well and good, but that meant there were only eleven players on their team: no way Lars and Anders could ignore each other. The other players on their team seemed uneasy as well, no doubt well aware of the Nilsson Brothers’ rivalry now sitting in the locker room with them.
“For some reason,” Anders said as he addressed them before the game, little Anton at his heels with a clipboard that appeared to have a coloring page fromPaw Patrolon it, “they think as captain, I should be responsible for lines as well. I’m not a coach, nor do I want to be. I’ve put together lines as a starting point. We can always fall back on them if no one has any preferences.” He pinned a piece of paper to a whiteboard using a bright pink magnet. “I don’t care if you follow them or not. As long as we have three players on the ice and a goalie in net, feel free to make changes. If you’re a forward and want to try defense, now’s your chance. If two centers want to be out, by all means.”
Ryan stole a glance at Lars, sure this last bit was directed at them; Lars looked unmoved. He didn’t look as pissy as he usually did around his brother, but that was most likely due to Anton’s presence.
