Page 88 of The Trade Deadline
A few people nodded but stopped whenever Lars looked their way.
Lars stole a glance at Ryan then licked his lips. “Well, last time, we lost. I’m trying something different this time.”
“If it works, it works, I guess.” Jordy didn’t sound convinced.
It was zero surprise to see that the Otters matched Anders against Lars as often as possible. Ryan watched from the bench anxiously, but he was optimistic when Lars avoided an open ice check and didn't retaliate when Anders knocked him out of the crease.
He was clearly frustrated in the locker room between periods, practically vibrating with unspent energy that he’d been saving up specifically to throw himself at Anders. Instead he spent it aggressively re-taping his stick and disappearing into the bathroom for the rest of the intermission.
“You okay?” Ryan asked as they waited to get on the ice for the second period.
Lars scowled at him, angrier than Ryan would’ve hoped. “Did you see when he pushed me? How was that not a crosscheck?”
Ryan had been watching. Anders was a large, physical defensemen and had cleanly bodied Lars out of the crease, keeping him from screening the goalie, i.e. his literal job. It hadn’t looked particularly aggressive (not like if Lars had attempted the same to Anders…), but Ryan understood his role here wasn’t to be the voice of logic. He was the supportive (boy)friend.
“You’re the best on the team, he’s gotta cover you,” Ryan soothed. “And he probably does it knowing he can draw a penalty or two from you. Bynotgiving him that, you’re winning.”
A pensive look overtook the anger as he considered this. “I win by not taking penalties,” he said slowly, trying out the idea. He huffed in annoyance. “It’s more satisfying to take the penalties.”
Ryan tried a different tact. “Well, right now Anders looks like the bad guy, right?” He waited for Lars to nod. “Good, now your mormor can’t be upset with you, and you’re setting a good example for your niece and nephew.”
That seemed to land better. “I suppose…”
The second period was much the same, except Anders seemed to have realized Lars wouldn’t retaliate so he got rougher and rougher. Lars’s frustration was a palpable thing on the bench, everyone giving him a wide berth because he looked like he was one wrong word away from smashing his stick into pieces. Ryan was about to tell Lars not to worry about it, that he could play however he wanted even if that meant punching his brother in the face, but Anders got carried away with a hip check along the boards that the refs finally deemed penalty-worthy.
Even after the penalty was drawn, Lars looked like he was about two seconds away from going after him.
“Lasse!” Ryan called sternly from the bench. That earned him a few looks, but he ignored them. What he really needed was for Lars to?—
Lars stopped, stared daggers at his brother for a moment, then skated to the face-off circle to start the Power Play. Ryan smiled, pleased that his gamble had worked, and made the mistake of making eye contact with Anders. Anders Nilsson, all six foot four inches of him, was staring at Ryan with what could only be called a piercing look that made him want to melt into the floor. He couldn’t help it: he looked away first.
Lars scored ten seconds into the resulting Power Play, which seemed to soothe a lot of his aggravation.
“I told you,” Ryan said once the period was over. “Youplay clean.Youdraw the penalties.Youwin.”
“Did you see Ander’s face when he got called? He waspissed,” Lars said with delight.
Ryan patted his shoulder. He still didn’t get the brotherly dynamic there. Sure, he’d enjoyed the same childish mirth whenever one of his older sisters got caught doing something they shouldn’t have…but he also had helped them hide a fair share of sneaking out, cigarettes, and secret boyfriends. He honestly wasn’t sure what one of them would have to do to warrant this type of long-term animosity.
The third period was less eventful on the Nilsson front, mostly because Coach Thompkins did his best to exploit the home team advantage. Any time he could adjust the lines so that Lars wasn’t out against Anders, he did. That meant Lars got easier matchups and was able to avoid the temptation to whale on Anders.
It also meant that more often than not, Ryan was sent out as the sacrificial lamb.
He wouldn’t say he minded, except after the second time he got knocked down to the ice, he wasn’t exactly pleased to be taking the brunt of Anders’s physicality.
“I can see why Lars doesn’t like you,” he muttered the third time as he got to his feet. Anders, about to skate away, stopped to stare at him with icy blue eyes. They were the same color as Lars’s; up close, he could see there was more to the family resemblance than their eyes and blond hair. Same nose, same cleft in their jaw, same ability to pin Ryan in place with a single look.
“Mind your business,” Anders said stiffly, then sprinted away to catch up with the play.
Yep, definitely a charmer, that one.
There was one moment, his last shift of the game, where he and Anders were racing for the puck in the corner. He had a step or two on Anders and braced, fully expecting Anders to take him out with a crushing hit because that’s what he’d been doing to everyone all game. It was what the guy was known for: being big and landing hits. But when the moment came, there was no hit. He didn’t make iteasyfor Ryan, but Ryan didn’t end up flattened like a pancake.
He didn’t necessarily understand it, but he definitely appreciated walking away from that one without any bruises.
The Crabs managed to eke out a 2-1 victory, thankfully. Ryan wasn’t prepared to lose that game after begging Lars to be on his best behavior.
“Great game, everyone,” Jake said in the locker room after Thompkins had given his usual spiel about a solid win. He turned to Lars. “I’m impressed you reeled it in and didn’t go after your brother like last time. I appreciate the clean game. It really helped us stay solid out there.”
