Page 62 of Drop the Gloves
It was on him for getting himself into this mess.It was a bad idea to fool around with teammates, and a worse idea to fall for someone who wasn’t emotionally available for a relationship with another man.
WasRileyemotionally available for a relationship?Hmm, he might need to figure out an answer to that one before he got carried away.Pretty shitty of him to judge Abs when he didn’t have his own shit figured out.
Dalty won another round of UNO.Riley tossed over his stack of cards in disgust.He had to draw twenty friggin’ cards because he didn’t have a blue!He didn’t even get a wild or a +2 or anything from that stack.What a stupid game.
“You playing again?”Dalty asked as he shuffled the deck.
“Sure,” Riley grumbled.What the fuck else was there to do?
They arrived in Philadelphia just before noon, and everyone was given an hour to settle in before they had to head out for practice.An hour wasn’t much time, but maybe he could figure out which was Abs’ room and they could?—
“Barczyk.A moment, please.”
Riley froze.Uh oh.He turned on his heel and walked back to Coach Jack with his hands buried in the pockets of his suit jacket, wondering if he should apologize in advance or play dumb.
Play dumb?Bro, you have no idea what you did.Youaredumb.
“Yes, sir?”Riley asked.He might be a jackass on the ice, but his very Catholic mother had instilled in him a healthy respect for authority.Especially when said authority controlled your career.
“How are you doing, Barczyk?”Coach Jack asked, his expression maddenly unreadable.“You settling in with the team all right?”
Riley shrugged.“I’m doing fine.Can’t complain.The boys took me in, no problem.”Most usually did.He could only remember one time a guy never warmed up to him—they’d fought before, and Riley had broken his nose or something, he couldn’t remember—so he’d just kept his distance.They were adults and professionals.If people on the Riveters didn’t like him, they kept it to themselves, and he did the same.
Coach Jack nodded.His blue eyes were laser-sharp as he assessed Riley.“You ready to face the Gliders tomorrow night?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”he huffed.“I ain’t injured.”
“It can be hard to face former teams.Lots of emotions.Lots of pressure.”He trailed off, giving Riley a chance to weigh in.
“We already played the Nor’easters,” he hedged.“You didn’t seem concerned then.”
“Because I wasn’t, and I’m not now.But you and I both know there’s a world of difference between Vermont and Philadelphia.”
Riley opened his mouth to say something asinine, remembered who he was talking to, and thought better of it.When did anyone give him credit for all the times hedidn’topen his big fat mouth?
“Yes, sir,” he said instead.
“I’m tired of the media asking me about this game,” Coach Jack continued.“I hate this kind of storyline.Makes the game all about one player when we’re trying to build a team that can go all the way.Granted, the fans eat this up.”
“They sure do.”He’d gotten used to the theatrical side of professional sports when he joined the league, and he’d taken advantage of the spectacle that went along with it.It was how people knew his name, after all: Riley Barczyk, league pest.He was proud of that notoriety.
Abs doesn’t approve.
The thought came out of nowhere, and he reeled a little.Why did it matter if Evan Abernathy did or didn’t approve of how Riley played hockey?He didn’t play for anyone but himself.Besides, if he played by everyone else’s rules, he wouldn’t even have been drafted.
“If I were a Gliders fan”—Riley struggled to tune back in as Coach Jack kept talking—“I’d be happy if my team won and showed the league they don’t need you.But if I were a Riley Barczyk fan, which I am, I’d want to see his triumphant return to a city that was dumb enough not to lock him down for another season.So, which storyline are they going to be running?”
On the one hand, he appreciated Coach Jack taking time to talk to him one-on-one, period.That wasn’t a courtesy every coach gave, especially not for an experienced bottom-six player who was doing his job.On the other hand, he fucking hated this babying bullshit.
“No storyline needed,” Riley said.“They’re just another team.Same as the last game.Same as the one after.They’re not in my head.”
“Let’s hope you’re in theirs,” Coach Jack said.“Feel free to play rough.I hate losing the Battle of Pennsylvania.Nothing makes Pittsburgh more ornery than losing to fucking Philadelphia.”
“Yes, sir.”Then Riley made his escape before Coach Jack could extend their heart-to-heart.
He bypassed the elevator, taking the steps two at a time up to the fourth floor to forget the conversation.He meant it.He didn’t give a shit that he was playing the Gliders.They’d come at him hard to make a point, and he assumed he’d match their intensity without even thinking about it.
That didn’t mean that this game was meaningless, though.He had a lot riding on it.
