Scoring Position (Hockey Ever After #2)

by Ashlyn Kane

“Nico, if you don’t come out, I’m going to come in. I haven’t been in a closet since 200...

AFTER THE game, it wasn’t a question of whether someone was going to confront Nico—it was a question of who. So when Ryan saw Nico duck down the hallway, head low, and slip into a closet to finish the breakdown he’d started in warmup, he pulled Yorkie and Kitty aside and filled them in. Grange also wore one of the team’s As, but Ryan had noticed he didn’t exactly seem warm toward Nico. He didn’t know if it was a rivalry thing, or if he saw too much of himself in Nico, or if he couldn’t relate, or what. Maybe he was just a douchebag. “He’s gotta talk to somebody,” Yorkie said. He looked like Ryan felt. “I know he’s dealing with some shit, but he can’t keep doing this.” Kitty shook his head. “Bad game. But Yorkie’s right. I think we let this go too long.” Then he glanced at Yorkie. “But you gonna be busy tonight. Rookie needs the captain.” Normally Ryan would’ve taken him—he spent more time with Chenner on the ice than Yorkie did, and a lot of the time, rookies needed a slightly older peer more than an authority figure—but a game this bad called for personal attention. Which left Kitty, who at least seemed to like Nico. But Ryan was iffy on whether that feeling was mutual; Nico never seemed comfortable around anyone. Or Ryan, doing the one thing he’d promised himself and Nico he wouldn’t do. Fuck it. He literally could not watch Nico suffer anymore without reaching out. It hurt to see someone spiral like that, especially when he knew he could help. And after his conversation...

When Nico finally opened the closet door—seriously, he was not doing himself any favors—Ryan’s irritation and consternation melted into sympathy. Nico looked like he’d spent the past three hours repeating to himself every mean thing anyone had ever said about him until he believed them all. “We should talk,” he said. Then he remembered their agreement and made himself amend that. “Unless you want me to get Kitty instead.” Nico looked pretty small for a guy who was over six feet tall and outweighed Ryan by twenty pounds. “No,” he said quietly. “This is fine.” His tone rang with defeat. Great. This would be so much fun.

Where did he even begin untangling this mess? Ryan sat on the couch kitty-corner to Nico’s. “I owe you an apology.” Nico’s head came up so fast, it almost gave Ryan whiplash. “What?” Ryan winced. “The Grouch thing. I was just trying to make the rookie feel better, but I didn’t have to throw you under the bus to do it. I shouldn’t have said it, and I’m sorry it caught on. I won’t say it again.” Guys in the league had all kinds of nicknames they hated, but you could put up with a nickname you hated if you knew you were good at hockey and felt included. Right now, neither of those things applied to Nico. Nico knitted his eyebrows, his face full of distrust. “Is this a joke?” “No. The thing I said about the closet, that was a joke. This is a sincere apology. I’m softening you up because everything that comes after this is going to be harder to hear.” “Can’t be much worse than what I’ve been telling myself,” Nico muttered. “Maybe,” Ryan agreed. “What’ve you been telling yourself?” He leaned back a bit more and pretended to be relaxed. Hopefully that would look nonthreatening. Nico crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders. “I’m an idiot. I can’t believe I—I was such a brat. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I get stuck and all I can think about is messing up and I can’t get unstuck.” “So, like, you keep going over the missed shot or pass in your mind, instead of focusing on the next one?” “Yeah.” Nico sighed. “I know it doesn’t help, but I don’t know how to stop it....

Whatever was going on with him was way beyond Ryan’s ability. But he could nudge him toward actual, professional help. And thanks to that time he’d had to sit through his dad giving a webinar on this topic, Ryan actually had a decent strategy for that. “Can I ask something?” Nico shrugged. “Why won’t you talk to the mental-skills coach?” Ryan hadn’t thought Nico could look any smaller, but he managed it. “I know I probably—but I can’t, like, do it.” He shot pleading eyes at Ryan. “That wasn’t actually a full sentence there, buddy. Are you saying you’re having trouble taking the step of making the appointment?” A nod. “Because you hate therapists?” Nico hesitated, then shook his head. God, this might take all night. “For a reason that I am probably never going to guess?” Nod. Ryan waited, but Nico said nothing. Oh well. Worth a shot. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that you make an appointment to talk to Barb.” Nico opened his mouth, then shut it and swallowed. Ryan took a deep breath and locked his gaze with Nico’s. “Look, you don’t think you’re the first hockey player this has ever happened to, do you? You’re working hard, but it’s not paying off. That’s making you miserable, and the more miserable you are, the worse you play. You’re one of the most gifted hockey players I’ve ever seen, and it is frankly painful to watch you struggle. But you can’t physically work on a problem that’s in your head. So if you want to get better…?” He waited. Nico’s ...

first step is done.” “First step?” Ryan wasn’t sure if Nico’s expression was trepidation at the idea of completing more steps or some mixed desire for a to-do list. “I mean, there’s whatever Barb’s going to talk to you about tomorrow. But there’s also a couple other things.” Nico raised his eyes to meet Ryan’s for the first time all conversation. Progress. “One… you’re going to have to apologize to Chenner.” Nico blew out a breath, then firmed his shoulders. “Okay. I can do that. I know I need to do that. What’s two?” Ryan snorted a little as he realized the irony in what he was about to say. “Obviously this is going to come off awkward and self-serving, given what Rees wanted from us, and believe me I am definitely cringing at the idea that he was right, but… think about making friends.” Nico made a quiet involuntary sound that might’ve been a laugh. Such a small noise shouldn’t have filled Ryan with such a sense of achievement, but it did. After a night like tonight, he would celebrate every minor victory. But he wasn’t going to rub Nico’s face in it. “It doesn’t have to be me. I know I’m an acquired taste, but Chenner looks up to you. I bet if you asked him to hang out as a peace offering, he’d say yes.” Nico looked dubious, but he didn’t argue. “I’ll think about it.” That was as much as Ryan could hope for. He’d been prepared for a screaming match or a total shutdown, but Nico seemed… well, maybe not eager to please, but eager not to disappoint anyone further. And that...

Nico loosened up a little more, and Ryan figured that was as good a sign as any. “I want to ask you one more thing, okay? Don’t get mad. I’m just asking, without judgment.” Now Nico gave him a very slight side-eye. “That kinda makes it sound like it’s gonna be judgy.” Ryan huffed a laugh. He’d figured that Nico had a sense of humor buried in there somewhere. But still, it was kind of a judgy question… and one firmly rooted in Ryan’s burning curiosity. “Why don’t you join the cellies?” He desperately needed to know. He could tell by the way Nico’s expression froze and then reddened that the question caught him off guard. Had he expected Ryan not to notice? When he didn’t answer, Ryan prodded. “I mean, some people just don’t like to be touched. If that’s it, though, I think you should tell the guys. They’d respect that.” As he’d hoped, Nico took the bait. “No, that’s—that’s not it.” He grimaced. “It’s embarrassing.” “You don’t have to tell me. But if there’s a reason you don’t want to do it, you should think about telling the team.” He needed to word this next part carefully. He didn’t want Nico to feel any worse. “Because if they don’t know why you won’t, they think you’re not happy your teammates scored.” Read, They think you don’t like them, when I’m pretty sure you’re just mad at yourself for not contributing more. Nico was all kinds of tied up in his own head. Ryan really needed to work on his mental phrasing. Nico paled. “Oh.” Poor kid. He’d said touching wasn’t the pr...

Barb was… nice. She was nonjudgmental and easier to talk to than he expected, but not the same way Ryan was easy to talk to—though he would never admit Rees was right about that. Barb would wait endlessly for Nico to answer, while Ryan didn’t make him do that. But still…. After a little small talk, they started in on Nico’s… he didn’t even know what to call it. Episode, maybe. He described what he’d been thinking and feeling and his desire to get away from everyone until he could get himself under control because he knew he’d behaved abominably. Barb rebuked him gently a few times for being too harsh on himself. Nico didn’t agree, but if he was going to actually talk to a professional, he might as well try to do things the way she wanted. Eventually she offered, “Well, I don’t think it was quite a panic attack, but it doesn’t sound like a lot of fun. Let’s talk about ways we can keep you from feeling that way again,” and then they did. She did give him homework, including a book she recommended called Chop Wood Carry Water, made an appointment for a follow-up session, and that was it. He got an Uber to take him to the arena, then drove his car home and went through his usual workout routine in his home gym, listening to the audiobook of Chop Wood as he did so. He wanted to listen again when he could devote more attention to it, but so far it seemed helpful. But when he got through the exercises he was supposed to do, to the part where he usually started doing extra sets, h...

RYAN KNEW better than to screw a teammate. And he also knew how to curb his impulses. He wasn’t a teenager. He wouldn’t risk locker-room camaraderie or this tentative friendship with Nico just because Nico was, objectively, hot. Not even if he was starting to suspect there was a personality under the attitude, one with a dark sense of humor and an admirable work ethic. Was it misguided of Nico to think he could fix the team all by himself? Absolutely, yes. Did Ryan still find that level of dedication and personal responsibility compelling? Unfortunately, also yes. The point was, Ryan had no intention of doing anything about that attraction. He was thinking really hard about hockey things. Strong hockey thoughts. He even—after weeks of putting him off—let Yorkie bully him into attending an optional skate the day before a road trip.

Ryan ran through some drills—stickhandling, quick turns, shooting—that didn’t require a buddy. When he took a break for some water, he spotted Chenner off to the side, playing with a puck and staring intently. That would not do. With Phil’s grateful blessing, Ryan passed the remaining thirty minutes of the skate with Chenner, talking him through drills and asking innocuous questions about his experience in the league so far, where he was living and how he was adjusting. As they talked, Ryan got the sinking feeling that the rotten apple that was Chuck Vorhees wasn’t spoiling the barrel so much as the whole damn orchard.

practically a zombie when he dropped into the seat next to Nico on the plane the next morning. Nico had given a fraction of an inch; Ryan was going to run five miles. They were friends now. Or at least, they could be. Nico didn’t complain, at least not about Ryan’s presence. He did offer, “You look terrible,” but it was more observation than judgment. Ryan opened an eye to glare at him and squirmed to get comfortable. “Thanks,” he said, heavily sarcastic. If it hadn’t been October in a city that didn’t know it was fall yet, he could be dressed in a cozy wool coat and soft toque, and maybe he would actually get some rest. Suits did not make one feel relaxed and sleepy. Neither did the fact that he could feel Nico staring at him. Ryan shot him a look. “What?” “Did you not sleep or something last night?” “Or something.” Ryan didn’t exactly want to confess his sleep issues right now. Considering he was young and healthy, people thought he must be exaggerating. “And you lectured me about taking care of myself,” Nico grumbled. Wow. Ryan looked over and saw Nico looking half-mulish, half-puckish—like he wasn’t sure if he was teasing or issuing a challenge. The mocking edge to his mouth, a little hint of a smirk, was… okay, it was sexy. Damn it. As tired as Ryan was, it seemed like Nico was taking his advice to heart. He was trying to make friends—to figure out where the boundaries of their friendship might be. Ryan could sacrifice a few moments of rest to encourage that. “Not the...