The Rebound: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance

by Colleen Charles

  “I had an argument with Eloise.”

  He laughed aloud this time. “No shit. Who hasn’t? She’s an argument on legs. I swear to God, if Christ himself came down from heaven, she’d give him an earful about his faults.”

  Hannah didn’t find it that funny. “So I take it you’ve had arguments with her?”

  “Hell, yes. We used to work together. If you think she’s bad at home around people she loves, imagine what she’s like with her subordinates.”

  “Yeah, she mentioned that you’ve had words before. And she said other things too.”

  Silence hung over the connection for a heartbeat or two. “Like what?” he asked, his voice quiet.

  No. She didn’t want to confront him with El’s accusations, let their fight ruin the one thing that felt bright and good in her life right now. Maybe El didn’t know Ryder the way she did. “That you were too old for me.”

  She heard him take a few breaths, then make a clucking noise. “Well, I’m twenty-nine. How old do I need to be before I’m too old for you? We were both born in the same damn decade.”

  It was her turn to snicker as she thought of Walter and his nurse’s cracks about his age. “Older than that,” she replied.

  “Good to know I have a few years left before I reach my expiration date.”

  “You sound like you’re talking about moldy cheese.” She pressed her ear closer to the phone, wanting to feel closer to him. Her anger at El faded away on the buttery softness of Ryder’s flirtatious voice. “How young do I have to be before I’m too young for you?”

  “Well, since we’re playing twenty questions, how young are you? Way too young to be an aunt, I say.”

  It seemed an odd way to phrase the question, how young as opposed to how old, but it made her smile. “I’ll be twenty-four in March.”

  “Oh heavens to Murgatroyd, that’s nearly a six-year gap. How will we ever communicate?” he said melodramatically. “Would it help ease your mind if I called Aflac and purchased some supplemental insurance?”

  Hannah laughed. “I suppose I could learn to decipher stone tablets and operate an abacus.”

  “Hey now, let’s not get nasty,” he chuckled. “Feel better?”

  “Yeah. I just feel a little crowded right now. El and Cole brought Christina home today, and my mom and dad are arriving week after next. I feel like I’m in the way. I lack… space.”

  “Christina, huh? I heard they’d had a girl. I didn’t realize you were all squeezed into that condo. No wonder you’re cranky. With his mega salary, I’m surprised Cole is content living in El’s condo.”

  “Well, they’ve been looking for a house for ages, and it sounds like they’ve found one now. The agent called earlier this evening.”

  “Good for them. Moving is a pain in the ass though,” Ryder said. “Sounds to me like you need a little escape.”

  “Hmm,” Hannah scoffed. “Escape to where?”

  He paused. “Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to take you on another date. This is my one chance to live my dream, and I can’t let anything get in the way of it.”

  “I understand how important hockey is to you. You don’t have to apologize.”

  “Maybe not, but I want you to know that you’re important to me too. Even if my twenty-nine-year-old ass can’t keep up to a young whipper-snapper like you.”

  Important to him? Hannah’s heart did a backflip. Did he really mean it or did he just know all the right words to say through his years of playing the game?

  “I have an idea,” he went on. “After our game on the twenty-second, I have nothing to do but wait for the team’s decision after Christmas. How about we take a little trip?”

  “A trip?” she said, hoping she’d heard right. “Where?”

  “I thought maybe up north. Do you ski?”

  “About as much as I skate,” she admitted. “Not many mountains in Ohio.”

  “No problem. One more thing I can teach you. Are you up for a long weekend of… education?”

  “Oh Ryder, I don’t know. With my job and my parents coming and everything…”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, sounding a bit impatient. Didn’t he have family to visit at Christmas, too? “I’ll check into some bookings, and if you can tear yourself away from the restaurant, from Mommy and Daddy and Eloise and any other member of your clan who show up, we can actually get to know each other like grownups. Away from everybody and everything. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Do what you want to do for a change?”

  Hannah winced a little at his tone of voice, his words suggesting she was still a child, not able to think or make decisions for herself, even though he’d just claimed their age difference wasn’t a big deal. She’d never gone away with a boyfriend before. This was new territory. Grown-up territory. Wasn’t that what she wanted all along? Suddenly, it occurred to her that he could just as easily invite Josée Thibault on a ski rendezvous – and Hannah would bet she wouldn’t say ‘non.’

  “I’d like to go with you,” she said in a rush before she could change her mind. “I’m a big girl, I can do what I want.”

  “Right,” he said, and she heard satisfaction and something else – relief? – lacing the words. “That’s my big girl talking.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eloise reached up to hug Gerry as his big frame eased through the door. “Merry Christmas, Dad,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Mom.” She turned to Linda Robertson as she stepped in behind Gerry, encircling her in an equally big bear hug. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Hi, Dad,” Hannah said, exchanging places with Eloise.

  “Hi, Princess,” he said, wrapping his large arm around her shoulders. “How are you doing out here with El and company? Behaving yourself?”

  “I am. Super busy with the restaurant and Christina and, well everything. You guys are a day early… what happened?”

  “Where is that little angel?” Linda cooed, looking around. “I can’t wait to meet our first grandchild. And a girl to boot. I’m so happy!”

  “There’s your answer,” Gerry said, gesturing to his wife. “Grandma was getting so antsy I had to beg an extra day off work.”

  “Here she is,” Cole’s voice called as he approached from the living room, carrying Christina in his arms.

  “Merry Christmas, Mom,” Hannah said, giving her mother a quick hug. “Let me take your coat.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” Linda said, her palm lingering on Hannah’s cheek. “Is everything okay with you? You look pale.”

  Hannah nodded. “Yes, just fine. Go and hold Christina,” she said, hanging Linda’s and Gerry’s coats in the hall closet. She started to roll the three big suitcases they’d brought down the hall toward her bedroom when Gerry stopped her.

  “That green one, bring it here, Hannah,” he said. “It’s full of presents.”

  Linda’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yes. We’ve brought gifts from Sophia and Phil too, since they decided they couldn’t come out with us after all.” She turned back to the baby in her arms. “Just look at you,” she cooed, placing a fingertip on her tiny nose. “So much like Cole with all that thick, black hair.”

  “Really?” El asked, standing next to Linda. “Theresa thought she looked more like me.”

  “Girls always seem to favor their fathers. All of you looked like your dad when you first entered this world,” she said, glancing up at her daughters and then at Gerry. “But as you grew older, you could see a resemblance to both parents.”

  Hannah wheeled the green suitcase over near the Christmas tree that she and El had decorated only a few days ago. A baby in the house sent everyone’s schedule into chaos, including grandparents who lived hundreds of miles away. Their early arrival presented a problem. It was the Riot’s last home game tonight, and of course, Cole had to be there. Hannah wanted to go too, she’d promised Ryder, but El would expect her to stay and visit with Mom and Dad. She wasn’t about to reveal to her why attending the game was so important.
She’d only get her ass chewed out again.

  When they moved into their new house, Hannah decided she wouldn’t go with them, whether she got accepted to online grad school or Franklin or anywhere. It was high-time she made it on her own. An independent woman.

  With Christina handed off to Grandpa Gerry, Linda opened the suitcase and started unloading all the wrapped packages inside it, passing them to Hannah to place under the tree. She pulled out a smallish box with bright red foil wrapping and a fancy bow that had gotten a bit crushed in transit. Linda fluffed and straightened it, then handed it over carefully. “This is for you.”

  Hannah met her mother’s eyes and reached for it. “Aw, thanks. Mom.”

  Linda beamed. “It’s from Russ.”

  The box seemed to freeze in Hannah’s hands, turning her fingertips cold. “I don’t want it,” she said quietly, passing it back as if it had sprouted fangs dripping with poisonous venom. “Why would you bring this?”

  “It’s just a little token.” Linda frowned and shoved it back at her youngest daughter. “Russ likes you. He asked us to bring it. There’s no harm in opening it. I think he feels bad about the wedding. Did something happen between the two of you?”

  “You want me to like him, don’t you?” Hannah said, finally coming to a realization. “I don’t. I won’t. Accepting this is as good as lying. There will never be anything between Russ and me. I don’t have any romantic interest in him. In fact, I don’t even think he’s a nice person.”

  “Hannah, whatever has gotten into you. Where are you Midwestern manners? I’m not sending it back. It will hurt his feelings.”

  “What about my feelings?” Hannah argued, crossing her arms over her chest. No way could she tolerate being treated like an errant child for days on end by every damn Robertson in this condo. “You’re more worried about Russ’s feelings than your own daughter’s?”

  “We’re worried about you, dear. You can’t work in a restaurant the rest of your life, and if you’re not going to go to grad school then, well, maybe you should think about getting married to someone who can take care of you, who has his own means.”

  “Someone like Russ, for instance?” Hannah didn’t want to believe she was hearing this from her own mother. The woman who gave life to her and was supposed to love her unconditionally. “Did Dad put you up to this?”

  Linda gave a small shake of her head and placed her hand on Hannah’s arm. “It doesn’t have to be Russ. We just want you to think more seriously about your future. I’m not trying to upset you.”

  “No? Well, you’re doing a good job of it.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry… let’s not argue about it now. We’re here to enjoy Christmas together.”

  Hannah nodded. “I’m sorry, too,” she said, taking her mom’s hand. “I seem to be a disappointment to everyone lately. Or maybe always.”

  ***

  Only forty-two point four seconds remained on the clock. With the visiting Sharks ahead four goals to three, scoring the game’s tying point was likely the best outcome the Riot could hope for, forcing the game into overtime. Ryder skated a few shifts early in the game, but mostly rode the bench in the third period. Tamping down his anxiety, he watched his teammates pressure the Sharks in their end, desperately looking for a stay of execution with a timely netter.

  Clustered traffic in front of the Sharks goal turned ugly as Fiorino’s shot found its way through and rebounded off their stellar goalie, Aaron Dell. Shooters and defenders both jammed at the loose puck. He lost sight of it amid all the bodies. Ryder had always hated those greasy moments inside the blue paint, they were dangerous for both sides.

  A whistle sounded, and all eyes locked on the referee. Instead of the hoped-for goal, the official signaled a penalty to San Jose. Fuck yeah, Ryder thought. Here was their golden chance to tie it up. McTaggart cued Politski out of his net, and to his surprise, tapped Ryder on the shoulder.

  “Get out there for the extra attacker,” Shane said.

  Stunned, Ryder wasted no time. He launched himself over the boards and streaked toward the face-off circle inside the Sharks zone. They’d done plenty of specialty team drills during practice, but as a D-man he’d mostly been on the kill side. McTaggart said they wanted a two-way player. If he proved solid on the power play, it could seal the deal for him.

  Pulling the goalie meant a slightly different kind of power play, however. Winning the draw was imperative. The opposing team could not be allowed to gain control of the puck, period. Cole didn’t disappoint them. He swept the puck to his winger who immediately passed it to his D in the high slot. He rifled it across, Ryder catching it on the square on his tape. He turned and fired it down low to the forwards on his side. They dished off between them, looking for the hole, but the Shark’s defense was on them like stink on shit.

  They maneuvered the puck free and sent it back to the blue line. In one motion, Ryder caught the pass and directed it to his partner on the opposite side. They were trained to never watch the clock, but players developed an inner sense of how much time remained, and Ryder knew it was slipping away fast.

  His D fired it back down low, Jones picking it up and throwing a centering pass in front of the crease. A Shark’s stick interrupted and popped it straight out up middle ice, losing precious milliseconds. Another Riot forward reached it before it left the zone, shoveling it to the far D who then fired it to Ryder. No more time for them to scramble for it down low. He wound up. In his vision, the puck moved toward him in ultra-slow motion despite its speed upward of eighty miles per hour, and blasted a hail-Mary slapper toward the net.

  The high-pitched ‘tink’ of metal echoed in his ears. He couldn’t breathe. He stared at the mass of players blocking his view, looking for the sign, the arms and sticks raised in triumph. And he did. In Shark jerseys.

  Ryder’s heart felt like it would explode as he saw the referee’s striped arms winging outward. No goal. The puck had bounced out instead of in, and to his further horror, saw it hurtling out of the melee straight toward Shredder’s empty net. He pivoted and chased it down, catching it with feet to spare but heard the disheartening wail of the horn just as his stick touched it.

  Fuck.

  He swept it toward center ice where the linesman picked it up. A literal swarm of Sharks circled, savoring the taste of blood as they celebrated in front of their own bench.

  Ryder trooped to the dressing room alongside his dejected teammates but felt more than one kind of loss. The horn had signaled not only the end of the game but possibly the end of a journey. He’d done all he could, left it all on the ice. The rest wasn’t up to him.

  After the coach’s debrief and donning their street clothes, the players began to leave the arena for a well-deserved holiday break. For Ryder, it wouldn’t be an entirely relaxing one. Now that the fate of his hockey career was out of his hands, all the other concerns he’d held at bay came rushing in like a busted dam.

  With his mom long gone and disconnected from his father and brothers, Christmas hadn’t been much of an occasion to celebrate in the last ten years or so. He typically went away for a few days if the calendar worked out, pretty much not thinking about anything or anybody. But he had plenty to think about this year – his father languishing with a terminal disease, his career on the brink of either stratospheric high or status quo low.

  He switched on his phone as he walked down the hall to the exits. He always turned it off while on the ice – no distractions. It buzzed to life with a flurry of emails and texts, one in particular bringing a grin to his face.

  Hannah: Hey… sorry couldn’t b there, something came up… call me latr?

  Ryder: u at home?

  Hannah: yes watched game on TV… u were brilliant

  Ryder: haha… did my best… call u in a bit

  He pocketed the device until he could get to his car and call her. He kinda figured she wouldn’t come. Home games started late in the evenings, and it wasn’t much of a date when a couple basically couldn�
��t be in the same room at the same time – and one of them sweating for three hours on the ice beforehand.

  “Hey, Martin,” he heard from up ahead. You coming?”

  He looked up to see Jones and a few others gathering by the entrance to the connecting walkway between the rink and the event center. “Where?”

  “We’re gonna crash Murphy’s pub for some Christmas cheer. The stingy fucker owes us big time. At least three each. Top shelf.” The guys all laughed. “Join us?”

  He thought about it. What the hell. He had nothing else on the docket. He could call Hannah from the bar. He hadn’t been inside Murphy’s Finest for a while. Kristoff went there a lot, trolling for the classy corporate types he loved to hook up with and occasionally invited Ryder, but he avoided being seen socially with his boss. He and Murphy seemed to prefer each other’s exclusive company anyway.

  The group of players walked in and commandeered a table with a view. Patrons still filled the VIP section, but the main room had emptied of the majority of spectators. After the heartbreaking loss, he hoped they didn’t get heckled by the disgruntled. Especially him. Ryder knew he didn’t have the loving support of the Riot fans as of yet. Maybe never. He sighed and then ordered a beer and the obligatory shot of Irish whiskey alongside. He didn’t love the stuff, but it made sense to imbibe the owner’s product in his own establishment.

  He punched Hannah’s number and waited for her to pick up.

  “Hi,” she said, her voice sounding more anxious than usual.

  “Hi. Got your message. What’s up?”

  “Sorry I couldn’t come to the game. My parents arrived a day early, and since Cole had to be there, I couldn’t very well leave too. I didn’t want to–”

  “Have to explain to your sister?” he said, finishing her sentence. He was pretty certain it would cause tension. He’d predicted that. “I get it. Don’t poke a sleeping bear.”

  She let out a sigh, the kind he hoped to hear right next to his ear when he got her lush young body into bed and brought her to climax for the very first time. He couldn’t wait to see the color of those blue eyes in that moment.