by RJ Scott
“Want to get a beer later?” he asked, which was odd in itself. Because they never asked, they just did.
“Later.” Loki bent to concentrate on his laces.
“Is everything okay?” The words stumbled out of Ryan; he wasn’t used to having to ask them where Loki was concerned. He and Loki just instinctively knew when things were wrong, but today that wasn’t there.
They’d worked on blocking, and everything had been off to the point that the coach sent them both to the dressing room. Ryan for being a stumbling idiot who couldn’t stand upright, and Loki for not concentrating. He hadn’t shouted, just explained that the two of them would be better off the ice.
Ryan knew why he was stumbling around. All he could think about was the kiss he and Kat had shared at her door when he left, and how it had knocked his world.
I love you…. The words spun in his head, a delicate thing that seemed almost too fragile for him to have heard. But he held them close, and he wanted nothing more than to stand in the middle of the rink and shout that he was in love with Kathryn Lecour.
But then Loki was all awkward and shit.
Or Ryan was. He didn’t quite know who was feeding off whom, and it left him unbalanced and weird.
It was his fault, no doubt. Because he was modifying who he was. Normally they’d be joking and shouting and poking at the rookies, giving the twins crap, teasing Simba. But today he’d been in a world of his own.
And Loki? Loki’s mood he couldn’t quite work out. Loki still didn’t know about him and Kat. He couldn’t, because he’d have flown at Ryan and demanded answers. So that left something else worrying him.
Ryan hadn’t noticed how pale Loki had gone when Coach said he wanted Ryan and Simba in the conference room after the session. “Loki, man, is everything okay?” he repeated.
“Yeah.”
And then it was just plain uncomfortable, and where Ryan would normally jump on his friend and force an answer out of him, this time he was reluctant. What if someone had already planted the idea in Loki’s head about him and Kat?
I just need to tell him. Fuck dinner and all that polite shit—I need to tell him, get to the core of his.
He opened his mouth, thinking that there could be worse places than the changing room for Loki to react badly.
“How’s the knee?” Simba interrupted, and he sat down between them.
“Good,” Loki was quick to answer. Ryan knew him well enough to tell that it was true; when he was lying, Loki couldn’t make his voice have that tone of false brightness.
“Need you back.”
“I’ll be there,” Loki said.
Simba clapped a hand on his shoulder and moved off, and that left Ryan sitting with his best friend. He shuffled up a little.
But Loki, with that ice sense that had translated to his interactions with Ryan today, was up and away before Ryan could talk.
“What’s up with Loki?” one of the twins asked from behind Ryan. “He was shit in the three-on-three.”
Ryan shrugged. Like he had all the answers with Loki at the moment. He was spending less time with him and more with Kat, which was the whole damn can of worms in and of itself. The secret burned.
“Think they’ll bring Jacobs up from minors?” he said to change the subject.
“He’s good….” And like that the thorny Loki issue was pushed to one side.
Post-shower he made his way to the conference room, catching up to Simba, who was waiting for him.
“You know what this is about?” Simba asked and fell into step with him.
“I thought you’d know.” Why would the management team call a meeting with Ryan and Simba. Dread flooded him. They were sending him to the minors, trading him… a hundred scenarios flew through his mind. He didn’t want to leave the Dragons; he was good here, and the team was so close to going all the way next season, he knew it. Maybe even to the finals.
He manned up and went in first, Simba close behind. Ryan stopped dead.
Simba tripped into him. “Shit, Ryan,” he muttered, and then he too stopped.
Because alongside the billionaire owner, Oscar Sweeting, and the usual team coaches, headed by Coach Barton, was a man who stood and extended his hand. Tall and imposing, the guy stepped forward, hand still extended.
Marc Rafferty. The fucker who took Loki out. The man who had deliberately targeted Ryan’s best friend, a member of his team, and who was on Ryan’s shit list. He had to make an effort to push the memories away, because he was going to teach this guy on the ice, not in an office.
“Flynn,” Rafferty said. His tone was flat, not giving anything away.
At Ryan’s side, Simba muttered, “What the fuck is he doing here?”
After a pause, when everyone in the room seemed to be pretending they hadn’t heard the muttered words, Simba shook Rafferty’s hand. So did Ryan, because his brain hadn’t caught up with what was happening.
Why is Rafferty here? Why is Simba here? Why is this a damn conference? This can’t be good news.
“Sit down, boys,” Coach ordered.
Simba sat immediately, but Ryan could only stare. He was being traded, and Rafferty was his replacement. Rafferty, who had hurt Loki; the skater Ryan had vowed to take out in the first game the Dragons had with his team was replacing Ryan.
Where did that leave him? Did any teams want him? Didn’t matter that he knew he was good, that the Phantoms had reached out to his agent on two separate occasions. He couldn’t think of any of it. Shit, Rafferty moving here left a D-man hole in the Phantoms’ defense. Was this a like-for-like trade?
“Seventeen? Sit. Down,” Coach said, this time with more force.
So Ryan sat and waited for his whole life plan to tumble down around his head. If he was being traded for Rafferty, then was he ending up with the Florida Phantoms?
Am I being traded?
Away from the Dragons, from his friends.
More importantly, away from Kat.
They’d only just done the “I love you” part of their journey. Everything was so new, so what possible reason would she have to follow him to the opposite end of the country? His tattoo itched, a phantom feeling that he knew wasn’t even there, but the scarlet-and-black dragon meant something to him. He wanted to stay here.
“Firstly, I want to say that the trade wasn’t made lightly,” Sweetings said. “I’ll let Coach explain.”
“You two are here for a reason,” Coach said, looking pointedly at Ryan and Simba.
Just get on with it, tell me already.
“Rafferty is coming here,” Simba said, completely calm, utterly in control of his emotions. “Who did you trade?”
Ryan tensed, tried to make sure he was ready to accept wherever he was going with grace.
Sweetings answered, looking way too smug and peering at the notes on his desks. “Two prospects, Hanshaw and Jacobs, our second- and fifth-round picks in ’17–’18.”
“We’re losing Jacobs?” Simba near-growled at Sweetings.
Unspoken was the fact that Jacobs was the best of the guys they’d drafted, that he would fill the holes in their offense with his scary speed. And they’d gotten rid of him for Rafferty? A D-man who was no better than Ryan?
Coach held up a hand. He’d never been the kind of coach who explained his decisions to his team, and apparently he wasn’t going to start now; but what he did do was allow the team to have their say. Simba would have a chance to say his piece. Coach and Simba would likely talk later, but for now, Simba’s reaction had been noted, and it was enough.
Even though Ryan understood the interaction, he was still stuck on the fact that he hadn’t been traded.
Then the reason he was here hit him with the force of a truck, underlined when Coach looked at him pointedly.
“You need to play nice,” Coach said. “You and Rafferty have issues you need to kill.”
“With respect, Coach, he shoved Loki in the numbers. He could have killed him.” Ryan twisted in his cha
ir to face Rafferty. “I owe you,” he said.
“No,” Coach snapped and stood sharply. “You work your shit out off the ice, but you don’t bring it here, you understand? You have to swallow this like the professionals you both are.”
Ryan stood too, but with great patience and consideration. The relief he’d felt at not getting traded had vanished under the fact that the guy he’d promised to drop gloves on was going to be on his team. “Is that all?” he asked, very carefully.
Simba stood as well, extending a hand to Rafferty. “Welcome to the team,” he said.
And then, without waiting for any kind of permission, Simba left the room. He was long gone by the time Ryan made it out of the door, temper and relief a strange mix inside him.
He rounded the corner, stopping abruptly at seeing Loki propping up the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked guilty, wary, and said nothing, evidently at a loss for words.
“You knew,” Ryan said. Because it was obvious. Loki’s awkward shit wasn’t about him and Kat, it was pure hockey.
“Not for sure, Ry,” he began quickly. “He fucking texted me to apologize, and I talked it out with Kat. Who does that shit? And then I knew, and I was… worried…. Shit, Ryan, did they trade you? Where are you going? Are you switching with Rafferty to the Phantoms?”
“You spoke to Kat?” Did Kat know about this as well? Ryan was still in a state of disbelief.
“I couldn’t talk to anyone else. Shit, did they… trade you?”
He blinked at his friend. “No, hell no.”
“Then why were you in there?”
“Because I’ve been told to play nice.”
“Who did they trade, then?”
“Two prospects, including Jacobs.”
Ryan expected Loki to share his disbelief that the Dragons would give away such a vital component of their future, but Loki just moved away from the wall and pulled him into a hug.
“Thank fuck,” he said.
Ryan fought the embrace for a second, his stomach still in knots, but then he hugged too, slapping Loki on the back.
Simba’s voice broke them apart. “When you’ve finished girls, I need a fucking beer.”
Which was how the three of them found themselves in the local bar they frequented. Off the beaten path, the Last Call wasn’t known as a hockey haunt, but the owner was a hockey fan and had a huge TV showing all the games he could, including every one of the Dragons games.
The three men drank beer, and for a few moments they were quiet. Loki looked relieved, Simba blindsided, concerned, and Ryan just felt half-pissed, half-relieved, and didn’t hide either expression from his friends.
Simba broke the silence. “I wanted Jacobs,” he said morosely.
“He’s fast,” Loki added.
“And scary accurate,” Simba pointed out.
Loki and Simba sighed heavily.
“Glad you’re fucking staying, though,” Simba grasped Ryan’s arm. “Couldn’t handle any more shit in there.” Then his voice lowered. “You think you can stop yourself from trying to kill Rafferty?”
It was Ryan’s turn to confront what had just happened. He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes and nodded. He’d shelve the payback for the team. Didn’t mean he had to like the guy.
Several beers for Loki later, with Simba and Ryan switching to water, they made their way back to Sweetings Arena, using the back entrance to the parking lot.
Ryan felt out of sorts, a crackling tension that skimmed under his skin and left him nauseated. He hadn’t even finished his first beer, his head caught up in ifs and maybes. Every single train of thought ended with the memory of what Kat had said last night.
She’d had an idea that there was a possible trade, but he couldn’t blame her for not telling him. Even though she’d thought he might go somewhere else, she’d told him what she really felt about him. That had to count for something.
I love her. If I’d been traded to the Phantoms, would she have come with me? He stopped dead in his tracks. He knew one thing. He wanted her with him wherever they were.
Simba tutted and stepped around him, continuing on into the arena, but Loki stopped next to him.
“How are you feeling?” Loki asked.
Jeez, where did he start? “Angry, relieved, and pissed that I’ve lost my chance to lay Rafferty out after what he did to you.”
Loki leaned against Ryan’s SUV. “One of you will move teams one day,” he chirped. “Then you can take him out.”
“I’ll count down the hours.”
“You know he’s not the same as you, right? That you’re safe here, the best.”
“I have to believe that,” he admitted.
“You and Karly, they won’t split you up.”
He hadn’t even thought about his defensive partner in all this. What if they’d taken Rafferty and made him sit in a pair with Ryan? How would he have handled that shit?
“I know. Rafferty is second pairing.” He needed to get out of here. “I’m going home,” he announced.
“Wait, Ryan, can I ask you something?”
Ryan stopped as he fished out his keys. He’d only had a third of a beer, and he was ready to go home, maybe via Kat’s place. If he remembered right, and he did where Kat was concerned, she was off shift in thirty, and he had a hell of a lot to talk about.
“Yeah?” he prompted when Loki didn’t immediately speak.
“This Jay you’re seeing, is there… like…. You don’t talk about her, but you’re different, happier, centered. And you normally tell me everything. You know I wouldn’t judge if it was actually….”
“Actually what?” Ryan’s chest tightened in anxiety.
“Look, the name… Jay… I mean, is it a guy? You know you can tell me. I don’t care what you do—”
“It’s not a guy,” Ryan interrupted. Kat’s name was on the tip of his tongue.
Loki gripped his upper arm, hard. “You’re my friend. I love you, man, and you're being weird. You’re clearly head over heels for this Jay.”
“I’m not being weird.” He said that even though he knew he was.
“Yes, you are. What can be that bad that you can’t tell me about it? Is she older? Like a cougar or something? Or underage? Shit, tell me you’re not breaking laws here.”
We’ll tell him together….
The warning was there, but Loki would be so pissed, and that stupid, heroic core of him didn’t want Kat exposed to her brother’s temper. It was all on him.
And so in a weird, warped, hockey-players-are-idiots way, he came clean.
“I slept with Kat,” he said softly.
Loki leaned in a bit. Clearly he hadn’t heard.
“I slept with Kat,” Ryan said a little louder.
Loki’s smile dropped a little. “What?”
Ryan helplessly strung words together in a random list. “She’s… Kat.”
Loki shook his head. It was as if he hadn’t heard properly, and Ryan could make something up, tell his friend that he meant a friend of Kat’s, or something. Anything.
He didn’t. Instead he pulled himself up taller. “I love her.”
Loki released his hold. For a moment his face was blank, and part of Ryan thought this was going to go okay. He even relaxed a little, which was completely the wrong thing to do, because he never saw it coming, but the pain when Loki’s fist met his cheekbone was enough to have him staggering back. When it was followed by a jab to his mouth and another wild punch that hit his shoulder, Ryan tried to protect his head at least.
“You’re fucking Jay and you’re what? Sleeping with my sister!”
But he wasn’t going to hit Loki back.
“No!”
Loki shoved him away, and Ryan staggered back until he connected with a flashy scarlet Ferrari, likely Simba’s car, which he’d probably scratched when his bulk connected hard to the wing. Loki was on him in a second. Another blow, but this time Ryan lifted a hand to protect his face; the crunch of Loki’s fist on hi
s wrist enough to make him curse.
“Stop!” he shouted over Loki’s temper, but none of that was working. “I lied about Jay.”
Loki threw himself bodily, hip-checking Ryan into the sports car again, and this had gone way past one blow.
“You. Fucking. Asshole! Bastard.” Loki pulled his hand back for one more punch. “I’ll kill you for touching her, let alone fucking around on her.”
“There was no Jay!” Ryan shouted, and then tensed, waiting for the hit.
But it never came. A flurry of movement, and someone had Loki in a tight grip.
Mark Rafferty, looking at the two of them like he couldn’t believe what the hell was going on. “Jesus,” he yanked Loki away. Mark had Ryan’s build, a defenseman with muscles and bulk, and more importantly, strength. He could easily hold Loki back.
“Let me the fuck go,” Loki shouted.
Ryan held out a hand. “Please, Loki, listen.”
Loki yanked free but Rafferty pinned him again. “Why would you hurt Kat? Why?”
“I didn’t hurt Kat, there is no Jay, it was always Kat!” Ryan shouted, wiping blood from his mouth. He didn’t even look at his hand. The skin was split, and he welcomed the pain of it.
“What?” Loki’s expression went from anger to shock, and then back again. “You fucker!” Loki shouted back and wriggled hard to get Rafferty to let go.
And then others were there. Coach standing between the two of them, other team guys from the scrimmage, and some guys from the Colts on tryouts who weren’t even team at this time.
Loki lost it. “Who else knew he was fucking my sister!”
Ryan’s temper snapped, and this time he stepped up toward Loki; only Coach being there stopped him from letting his temper out. “Don’t you fucking talk about her like that,” he yelled.
And then he stopped, deflated, and slid down the side of Simba’s car, ending up on his ass on the ground. Loki stared down at him, still in Rafferty’s hold. Coach was shouting something, and one of the rookies was getting up in Loki’s face.
