Page 15

Chapter 15

JAMIE

A fter the incredible game versus the Outlaws and the first hat trick of my pro career, the rest of the preseason flies by in a blur. We were able to close it out with a decent record: we weren't exactly dominating, but we played well enough to keep Coach Shaw's blood pressure in check. Unfortunately, last night's regular-season opener against the Vancouver Kodiaks was a different story. The chemistry between Rylan and me vanished without a trace. We couldn't connect on a pass to save our damn lives, and our timing was shot to hell. The ugly 3-1 loss has left a bitter taste in everyone's mouth, andevenCharlie's offer to treat everyone to post-game poutine couldn't fix things.

Now, thanks to some sadistic scheduling genius, we're headed out for our first road trip sincethatnight in San Diego. Six nights away. Six nights of sharing a room with Rylan, pretending I don't remember how he sounds when he comes apart under my hands.

My gut churns as I board the plane, spotting Rylan already in his usual seat at one of the individual workstations. He's arranging his notes and tablet withthatprecise attention to detail I used to find amusing. Now itjustreminds me of how carefully he's been maintaining his distance since our hookup. As if he can organize away whatever is happening between us.

Louis shuffles past, favoring his left side from last night's game. He catches my eye, giving me a lookthatmakes me wonder exactly how much he's figured out. Before I can dwell on it, Austin materializes like a defensive wall, dropping into the seat beside Rylan. His eyes meet mine briefly, and he may as well be wearing a neon signthatreads:"Pirelli-free zone."

I retreat to one of the couches further back, trying not to feel like I've been banished. From this spot, I have a perfect view of my two linemates. I can see how Austin leans in every time Rylan speaks, and how his normally surly expression softenswhen Rylanlooks away. Andthenit hits me like a kick in the gut: Austin has feelings for him. Suddenly Austin's hostility toward me and the way heseemsto run interference whenever I get too close to Rylan all makes sense. My stomach twists. Shit. Has he somehow picked up on what happened in San Diego? Or is hejustbeing protective of Rylan in general?

Charlie flops onto the couch beside me, tablet in hand."Ready for six days living out of a suitcase?"

"Yeah, should be fun,"I manage, fighting to keep my voice casual. As if I haven't spent every night this week lying awake, alternating between dread and excitement at the thought of being trapped in a hotel room with Rylan again.

"First real road trip with the team."Charlie's tone is light but his eyes are sharp."Different vibe than Florida, eh?"

I tear my gaze away from where Austin's showing Rylan something on his phone, their heads bent close together. My stomach burns with jealousy, catching me off guard."Oh, yeah.Verydifferent,"I answer with a forced smilethatI only hope doesn't make me look deranged.

The plane takes off, and I pretend to review game film on my iPad while stealing glances at Rylan. His shoulders are so tense they must ache. Twice, I catch him beginning to turn and look back toward me, but he catches himself. The third time, our eyes meet for a fraction of a second before he whips his head back around so fast I worry he might strain something.

When Austin leans in and whispers somethingthatbringsthatrare, genuine smile to Rylan's face, the one I've only seen a handful of times, I have to stop myself from getting up and... what? Marking my territory? What am I gonna do, pee in a circle around him like I'm a dog? Jesus Christ, I'm losing it.

This is going to be the longest fucking road trip of my life.

By the time we land in Minneapolis a few hours later, everyone's feeling the effects of last night's loss and the early flight, although the comfortable reclining seats on the plane help, it's still going to make for a long day. We all shuffle through the hotel lobby, looking forward to getting to our rooms for a nap. In a couple of hours, we'll get together for a team lunch before the buses head out to the arena later on.

Rylan handles our check-in, passing me my keycard without so much as a glance, andthenmaking a beeline for the elevators. I trail after him, trying not to feel like a lost puppy, and as I step into the elevator I send out a silent request to the Universe for the elevator to make it directly to our destination with no unscheduled stops between floors.

While we don't end up getting stuck, the journey stillseemsagonizing. Rylan stands in the front corner, his posture stiff, while I lean against the back wall. The space between us may as well be the Grand Canyon. A man in a suit gets on at the fourth floor, and I swear he senses the tension in the air because he lets out a noticeable sigh of relief when we exit on our floor before he does.

Our room is similar to the one in San Diego: two beds separated by a nightstand, and floor-to-ceiling windows with a desk in one corner. Rylan claims the bed furthest from the door, setting his bag down with the same careful movements he uses for everything.

"I'll take the bathroom first if that's okay?"His tone is cool and professional as if we're discussing line changes during practice.

"Yeah, sure."I try to match his tone, but my voice comes out rougher than intended. His shoulders tense—the only sign he's affected at all.

The moment the bathroom door closes, I collapse onto my bed, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. Charlie's earlier question echoes in my mind:"Different vibe than Florida, eh?"Yeah, no shit. In Florida, I was worried about getting hazed or bullied or finding slurs carved into my stall. Here, I'm trying not to jump my captain while pretending I don't notice how his t-shirt clings to his shoulders when he's stressed.

The sound of running water makes my mind drift to dangerous places.

This is going to be the longest road trip of my entire life.

The loss sits heavy in my muscles as we trudge back into the hotel after midnight. Charlie's trying to organize a group for drinks at the hotel bar, his voice carrying across the lobby."Come on, just one drink. That game was brutal, mates. We need to decompress."

A few guys peel off to join him, but all I want to do is faceplant into my mattress and forget this day ever happened. Rylan and I get into the elevator with Louis and Tanner, and even Lou'susuallychipper outlook is subdued, making the silence in the confined space thick enough to choke on. A 7-1 loss will do that to a team. Now that silence has followed us into our room.

I'm debating whether I should force myself to be social, figuring maybe a drink will help blur the edges of this awkwardness between us when Rylan's phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket, frowning at the screen. It buzzes againimmediately, and the color drains from his face.

A couple of minutes later his phone vibrates again, and I can't pretend not to notice something's up. He's gone still, and it reminds me of the calm before a big storm hits. He's gripping his phone so hard his knuckles are white.

"Do you need me to call Louis?"I askquietly, even though the last thing I want is to leave him when something'sobviouslywrong.

He shakes his head, still staring at the screen. Another buzz. His breath catches. It's such a small tell, but from someone so controlled all the time, it may as well be a scream.

"Rylan?"I take another step closer, unable to stop myself."What can I—"

"It's Wally,"he cuts me off, voice rough."From the bar back home. My dad's..."He swallows hard."He's on a bender. Talking about Nick."

The naked pain in his eyes when hefinallylooks up hits me like a bodycheck. For the first time since our night in San Diego, there's no careful distance, no captain's mask. It's just Rylan, looking lost and broken.

"I don't..." he starts, then stops, his carefully constructed walls crumbling. "I can't..."