Page 70 of The Best Parts of Him
“Guys,” Dabbs said on the bench between shifts. “Keep a level head.”
He should’ve saved his breath.
The Pilots were pissed and they weren’t shy about making it known. The Trailblazers, by contrast, were very smug, which wasn’t a good look on them and also wasn’t the norm. But the Pilots were bringing out the worst in them.
The situation wasn’t helped when Zanetti scored late in the first period, bringing the score to 1–0. The Pilots came back angrier than ever in the second period. That anger fuelled their determination, and they scored twice in quick succession. But it also made them sloppy and desperate, allowing the Trailblazers to sink two goals into the net shortly after.
A second fight broke out, earning penalties on both sides, and each team had a player in the box when Dabbs met Ryland in the face-off circle.
Lines of stress bracketed Ryland’s eyes. Dabbs felt the tension too. Hockey was supposed to be fun, but this game was antagonistic in a way Dabbs didn’t enjoy.
Neither did Ryland, going by his strained smile. He’d taken his nose ring out for the game, and Dabbs found that he missed it.
He winked at Ryland as he readied for the puck to drop. “Hi, cutie.”
Ryland’s smile turned genuine and warm. “You think I’m cute?”
Fuck, it was good to see him. Dabbs’ body was already pumped full of adrenaline thanks to the game, and seeing Ryland ratcheted it up by a thousand. Screw the fans, the game, the other players. Dabbs wanted to jump him.
“Can I drop the puck?” the referee asked mildly. “Or do you guys want to flirt some more?”
“I’d like to flirt some more if it’s all the same to you,” Dabbs replied, hoping to lighten things up.
Ryland’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and on Dabbs’ left, Bellamy sounded like he was choking on laughter.
The ref’s lips twitched. “How about you save the flirting for after the game, huh? Ready?” Without further warning, he dropped the puck.
Despite last season’s playoffs disaster, Ryland hadn’t expected this first game against the Trailblazers to be so combative.
Playing against Dabbs was supposed to be fun, but this was decidedly not.
Dabbs wasn’t a Trailblazers top scorer—that title tended to alternate between Sandro Zanetti and Billy Honeybun—but he could deke opponents at high speeds and was aces at creating scoring opportunities for his teammates.
He was also charismatic, and Ryland wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Exhibit A: a sign that read Dabbs, call me! followed by a phone number.
Exhibit B: a sign that read Dabbs, I’d make a better Thanksgiving date than Ryland.
That one made Ryland laugh.
Exhibit C: yet another sign. This one read Dabbs, we’re neighbors!
Okay, that was concerning. Ryland made a mental note to tell Dabbs about it later, although he was sure someone on the Trailblazers security staff had already noticed it.
With Miles and Honeybun in the face-off circle, Ryland stood next to Bellamy, ready to catch the puck if it came his way.
Bellamy nudged his elbow. “Do I get a thank-you?”
Incredulous, Ryland stared at him. Did he want a thank-you for this shit-show of a game? It wasn’t the Trailblazers causing trouble—that blame rested squarely with the Pilots. The Trailblazers were only responding to them.
Kind of like how Bellamy had only ever responded to Ryland’s bullying.
The irony was not lost on him.
“Thank you for what?” Ryland asked.
“Inviting you to stay over to take care of Dabbs while I was on the road with the team. I hear some fun was had.”
