Page 6 of No Rhyme or Roughing (The Golden Guardians Hockey Hearts #1)

CHAPTER SIX

RYDER

Did a hockey team truly win if no one was there to see it?

Of course they did.

But did that win do anything to save them from a possible sale and relocation?

No.

My foot tapped along with a song I couldn’t get out of my head, the one Sydney and I had listened to on the way home to Alameda.

That was only hours ago. Now, I sat in my navy pinstriped suit, my locker behind me.

Around me, my team—who’d played the game without me—exchanged smiles, more relieved than truly happy.

Still, they’d played in front of a half-empty building, one that wouldn’t calm Mr. Mac’s investors. And I couldn’t bring myself to tell these guys what was at stake if we couldn’t get people through the doors. Paying fans. If we had any of those left.

I hadn’t been part of this team for as long as some others, but this wasn’t a fresh problem in the league. We weren’t the NHL. Some teams drew full crowds, fans coming to see their favorite NHL prospects.

Yet, we’d beaten the Charlotte Checkers—their roster full of first-round draft picks and A-list prospects. Kids, really. Faster than us, feistier than us, with more to fight for. Or so they thought. My teammates just didn’t know what there was to fight for yet.

Coach stood in the center of the room, his eyes roaming our faces, a rare grin lighting up his otherwise harsh features.

“You played well tonight, boys, but don’t get ahead of yourselves.

It’s only one game. We have a few days off now, so I don’t want to see a single one of you at the rink tomorrow.

Rest. Recharge your legs. Prepare for Friday.

” He looked at Coach Frankie, who nodded.

“You’ll have to wait until after media availability to hit the showers. Keep your heads for any questions.”

And that was it. All his congratulations.

He headed for the door, and Frankie sent us all her trademark confident smile, as if she hoped it might instill that same confidence in us. Then, she opened the door for the media.

A single man walked in, his posture hunched and his face set in a severe grimace. Any media personnel with the right credentials could get to us after a game for quotes. Few ever came.

He hobbled toward me, aiming for the captain, as they always did. Lifting his phone to record, he introduced himself. “Christopher Manning, HockeyMan Daily. ”

I nodded, standing to tower over the man. “Pleasure.” The word was dry, tired, drawing chuckles from a few guys nearby. I cut them off with a glare. There was never a reason to be rude to the few people interested in the team.

After a few questions, the man left.

Rowan sidled up to me, phone in hand. “ HockeyMan is apparently a blog,” he said with a sigh. “The last article was from two months ago and has exactly one like.”

“Press is press.” I shrugged, trying to mask my unease. Mr. Mac’s voice echoed in my mind. Want to sell the team. Relocation. New start.

I shook off the words and turned to Rowan. “You ready to go?”

Teddy was going out in the city tonight, so I had to drive Rowan home. He hadn’t played either since Coach gave the backup tonight’s game.

“No date tonight, brother?” Sullivan approached, his usual smirk—reserved only for me—nowhere in sight.

Rowan threw an arm over my shoulders. “This might not be the best time to tell you, Coach, but…”

I didn’t push him away as my gaze locked on my brother’s. “Do you care?”

Sullivan shrugged. “Not particularly. But you’re the captain. You should have played tonight.” He didn’t believe the excuses the rest of the guys had accepted. He knew me better. “Sam’s cooking tonight if you want to join us.”

He knew I didn’t. Mentioning her was just a dig. Samantha Kareem was the only woman I’d ever loved— other than my mom. We’d been together for nearly a decade, starting when I was eighteen and a freshman in college. She moved with me from team to team after we graduated, always supportive.

Until she wasn’t. Until she wanted to settle down and decided my brother could offer her everything I couldn’t. I hadn’t had a full conversation with either of them since.

“You know,” I said, “I think I’d rather eat glass.”

Besides, there was a girl at home I wanted to see, a girl who knew what I had to hide from everyone else. With her, I could breathe.

Still no smirk. If I didn’t know better, I’d think my brother was nervous. “We have something we wanted to talk to you about.” His fingers tugged at the back of his neck.

“I’m sure it’ll keep.”

He stared at me for a moment longer before turning away and patting Rowan on the shoulder. “Tuesday, first thing in the morning. One-on-one.”

“Aye aye, Coach.” Rowan saluted him. As Sullivan headed toward Marks, our backup goalie who’d played a great game, that salute turned into the middle finger.

I swatted his hand down. “You don’t have to hate your goalie coach for me.”

Rowan tapped his chin with the same middle finger. “Hmm… two guys with the same face. One’s a sad sack; the other’s a dick. I’ll take the depression over the one who causes it, thanks.”

Shoving him off me, I laughed. “I’m not a sad sack.”

“Whatever you say, brother. Just don’t let me be anywhere near you when that head you keep everything bottled up in explodes. ”

We escaped the rest of the team and headed out into the night. It was about a half-hour drive home with no traffic. The bridge lit up with an extravagant light show, and I watched it as I drove, thinking about the last thing Sydney had said to me when I dropped her off after our adventure.

She had an idea for getting fans in the building.

But I wasn’t going to like it.

I paced outside Sydney’s door, hearing her mutter to herself inside, cursing every few words. When she didn’t think anyone could hear, the dam holding back everything she wanted to say apparently burst.

If I asked her about this bad idea of hers, would it mean I was truly considering saving the team? Doing whatever it took? I couldn’t go into this half-assed like I had so many other things in my life—my career, my relationships.

No. Sam wasn’t part of this anymore. Not now, not ever.

“Are you just going to stay out there and fantasize about me?” Sydney called out. “Oh, God, I hope you’re Ryder and not my brother.”

I bit back a smile and pushed open her door. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes held a challenge. “I promise I don’t bite… much. Holy shit balls, how do I just say things to you?”

“You don’t talk like this to anyone else?” My brow furrowed at the thought of never hearing that sass from her again .

Her entire face closed off—brows drawing in, lips tightening, eyes fixed on the floor. “Not anymore.”

I liked that she felt safe with me. We hardly knew each other anymore, and yet, I’d told her things I hadn’t shared with anyone—not even Sam.

Or Teddy.

Maybe it was the Valentine effect. Maybe they just felt like family.

She climbed off the bed and approached me, stopping when her bare toes bumped mine. Our chests were only inches apart, and my pulse thundered in my ears. How could this woman have such an effect on me? Teddy would do something drastic if he knew.

This was Sydy.

Except, the pigtails were gone, as was her little-kid body. Now, she was all curves.

Her lips pulled into a hesitant smile as she tipped her face up to look at me. “I like surprising you. Making you smile. You don’t do it enough.”

“I smile.”

“Sure, when you’re hitting on a stranger whose car you just hit. Or when you’re talking to fans or leading the team on the ice. But this is different, softer. Real.”

I wanted to reach out and touch her lips, to dive into her and figure out what made this fearlessness possible. All I was made of was fear.

She stepped back with a quiet laugh. “You came to hear my idea, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, she clapped her hands and launched herself onto the bed. Landing on her knees, she pulled her laptop toward her. “Sit.”

I lowered myself to the edge of her bed, well, my bed, and leaned over to see what she was doing. She pulled up a social media site, scrolling through a list of saved videos.

“Before you say anything,” she started, “watch a few of the videos. Don’t decide until you really think about it. Your first instinct will be to say no and never speak to me again, but I’ve done something like this before.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“I do nothing to draw attention to myself, Ryder. For me, it’s shadows or nothing. But I’ve worked with people who can walk down a street doing nothing special and still have all eyes on them. It’s a gift. I think you have it.”

“No… I…”

“It’s why your team loves you, and why I think this could work. You were born to go viral.”

“Viral?” I swallowed. That didn’t sound good.

Sydney shielded the screen from me and turned, meeting my gaze. “Promise not to judge too quickly.”

“I’m terrified. But fine.”

“Pinky swear?” She held up her pinky, and a memory hit me. Every time she’d wanted a promise as a kid, it was with that little finger.

I wrapped mine around hers, and we both froze, staring at each other for a long moment before she pulled away, as if she’d let the match burn too far down the stick. “Okay, just watch.”

She turned the screen toward me and hit play.

The video showed a baseball team in bright yellow uniforms playing a normal game.

“I don’t?—”

“Watch.”

Music started in the background, and the pitcher froze before shooting his arms into the air and bouncing his hips to the beat. Then, he jumped as two teammates caught him, swinging him like a jump rope while a fourth did a somersault over him.

The rest of the team joined in with simple dance steps.

The next video panned to the crowd, showing fans going wild, waving yellow shirts in the air. In another, a player sat on the ground before suddenly standing and lip-syncing to a song.

It was mesmerizing the way they intertwined performance with baseball.

After a few more, Sydney shut her laptop. Silence followed as I tried to process the idea she hadn’t spoken out loud.

“You think I should…” My brow furrowed.

She nodded for me to continue.

“Dance. On the ice.”

“Bingo.” She poked my side. “How epic would that be? You just need to post videos on social and get a following. That’s how we get people into the building.”

“But I don’t dance.” I pictured myself pitching this idea to the team and almost laughed. I could see their faces—and the straitjacket they’d buy for me.

“Anyone can dance, Ryder. Plus, you happen to have a very bored choreographer, and she won’t even charge you.”

Me? Dance?

“Please don’t say no.” She held her hands up as if in prayer.

“At least not yet.” She leaned closer. “Three of these players were my early clients. I helped them come up with routines that salvaged their baseball careers after they didn’t make it to the majors.

” Her voice dropped. “I dare you to consider it.”

As a dumb teenager, I’d never turned down a dare, and she knew it. What she didn’t realize was that it had been a long time since that boy was a part of me.

Yet, her face was so earnest, so eager, there was nothing I could say except, “I need to see more of these videos.”

With a squeal, she set up another series of videos. We watched this team of baseball dancers again and again. They didn’t seem embarrassed or self-conscious. They looked like they were having the time of their lives.

But they weren’t me. My confidence only existed with strangers, people who didn’t know me and never would.

Viral videos? Fans coming to watch dancing hockey players?

It was ridiculous.

After a while, Sydney rested farther back into her pillows, and weariness overcame me. I should have gotten up, gone down to the couch, and gotten some sleep. But I couldn’t seem to move.