Page 13 of The Trade Deadline

Chapter 9

Lars

It was the fifth game into the regular season and Lars still hadn’t scored. Counting his two preseason games, that was seven games in a row without a goal. Lars hadn’t had a dry spell this long since…ever? He didn’t like it.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. He was playing pretty well if he said so himself. Ten assists said he was definitely out there pulling his weight, and he’d shot on goal enough that he was beginning to think someone in Portland had cursed him.

“Just bad luck,” Coach Thompkins said grimly when Lars took a shot that was blocked up front. It’d still trickled through and gotten all the way to the goal line before it’d stopped dead. It’d just sat there, taunting Lars until the goalie casually covered it like he had all the time in the world. Not like Lars was an elite goal scorer or anything.

Given current evidence, maybe I’m not.

They were in Toronto, which was always a hard matchup for Lars. It was his dad’s team, and he hated playing in their arena where his dad’s number was hanging in the rafters. It also meant Mormor wouldn’t be watching. The banner hung behind the Canadian and American flags, so he was more or less forced to stare at his dad’s legacy at the start of every game. It was unfair to compare the careers of people playing in different eras, especially when one had died young, but any time people did feel like comparing Lars to his father, it always ended with questions about what his dad would think about his youngest being a forward instead of a defenseman like him. Anders, though. Mats obviously would’ve been proud of good ol’ Anders.

It was a lot of baggage to deal with in a single game, only made worse by his lack of production.

He stewed in his frustration for a whole period before he let it go. He’d had dry spells before, and he never let it slow him down. There were bound to be growing pains starting with a new line on a new team in a new division in a new conference. People did it all the time, and he hadn’t given them enough credit before.

Ryan scored in the third, a beautiful backhand after he forced a turnover as Toronto tried to clear it. The whole team whooped and whistled in appreciation—the late tally putting them a comfortable three goals over the Terrors—and were equally vocal about it in the locker room.

“Three goals,” Jake said with a crooked smile as he patted Ryan on the head. “That makes you goal leader so far. Beating Nilsy. First time in your careers, right?”

The whole team laughed like it was the greatest joke they’d ever heard. Lars didn’t know if the barb was meant for him or Ryan, but he didn’t appreciate it either way. Lars could take the chirping and have it wash right over him; he could see Ryan’s eyes dim and his smile falter and knew, for whatever reason, Ryan couldn’t forget it as easily.

“I’m biding my time,” Lars said loudly to draw the attention away from Ryan. “Lull all the goalies into a false sense of security, then get a five goal game and catch up.”

The rest of the guys laughed, a few throwing rolled up balls of tape at him. Lars playfully swatted them away. He caught Ryan’s eye and winked. Finally, the last of the tension disappeared and he relaxed.

“I think,” Vorny said, “we should go out to celebrate.”

“Late flight tomorrow,” Jake agreed. “Time for some good, old-fashioned team building.”

Lars added his enthusiastic agreement—he could really use a chance to blow off some steam. Everyone else he could’ve predicted, with the younger guys enthusiastically agreeing while some of the older ones bowed out, but he was a little surprised to see Ryan was on board. Ryan had put up such a fight when they’d gone to Rangoons in the preseason that he’d seemed like the type who avoided late nights out. People pleaser that he was, he seemed focused on taking care of himself a touch more.

They stopped by the hotel to change, then argued about bars versus nightclubs before deciding on a sports bar within walking distance to the hotel. The place was huge, with pool tables and dartboards and a few other games Lars didn’t recognize. The front area was a bar with long high top tables, and after standing around ordering beers, they were finally able to snag one.

He tried to talk to everyone a little. He was still getting a feel for the team, and he always found the informal settings were better. Often it helped him understand why his teammates were doing what they were doing on the ice, so he prioritized his linemates. That was probably why he couldn’t quite finish and score yet, since a lot of their opportunities got flubbed by miscommunication or bad timing. Lars was well into three beers and had worked his way through most of the team by the time he finally allowed himself to seek out Ryan.

Was it weird that Ryan was his favorite? Or that he had a favorite? He hadn’t on the Prowlers. There were of course people whose company he preferred, but at the end of the day, he didn’t have a best friend on the team. Not that Ryan was his best friend on the Crabs, he reminded himself. Or even his friend, really, since they never talked outside of work. He had Ryan’s number from the group chat, but he’d never figured out a reason to text him separate from everyone else. But the point was now was a great chance to make Ryan his friend.

Lars was a friendly, chatty drunk. He knew that. He made really good impressions on people when he was buzzed, and he could use that to his advantage. Ryan seemed to be immune to Lars’s charm, probably because he was way more charming, so Lars should definitely find him and?—

Ryan was gone.

Lars made a few rounds of the bar to be sure. Their table was covered in half eaten appetizers but distinctly Ryan-less. He wasn’t playing pool with Johnny and the other young players. No one was at the dartboards, so that was an easy no. Another pass by the bathrooms—nothing—and he went back to the table.

“Where’s Ryan? RJ?” he asked as he tried to balance on an annoyingly high stool with not quite enough seat.

“He was chatting up a blond at the bar,” Jordy, one of the left wings, said without looking up from his phone. “Maybe they went back to the hotel?”

“Oh.” Disappointment curdled in his gut, which was expected; the jealousy that followed hit him even harder. The jealousy was so out of left field it left him raw in its wake. When had that happened? That was…it was…

Really inconvenient.

Maybe it was a completely platonic type of jealousy?—

“Was she hot?” he blurted out. So no, not platonic.

Jordy put down his phone and eyed him for a moment, the furrow between his brow making Lars freak out. Oh no, had he figured out that Lars maybe was into Ryan? Shit shit shit .

“It was a guy,” Jordy said with a mix of warning and forced calm.

A guy.

Ryan had gone back to the hotel with a guy.

I’m a guy! he thought unhelpfully.

Luckily he was sober enough to address Jordy’s concern (and noted that he had been willing to go to bat for Ryan if Lars had been a dick about it).

“I don’t care that RJ’s gay.” Well, that was becoming increasingly not true, but Jordy didn’t need the clarification.

Jordy must’ve believed him, because he instantly relaxed and smiled. “Good. And he’s not. He’s bi.”

Lars nodded. “Does he pick up people often on road trips?”

Jordy shrugged. “Every now and then. He’s one of the few single guys on the team, and he’s probably the nicest, so he does pretty well. Doesn’t hurt that he’s good looking.”

“Bet it doesn’t,” Lars agreed. If he were smart, he’d change the subject from anything other than Ryan. Unfortunately he’d had one beer too many beers to be smart about anything. “Hey, can I ask you something? About RJ?”

It looked like Jordy was bracing again. “Sure.”

“He’s a good player, right?”

He frowned. “Yeah.”

“Like, one of the best on the team?”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far?—”

“You should,” Lars said matter of factly. “He is. I’ve played with a lot of really good hockey players, and he’s up there. It’s weird that no one else sees it. I mean, he’s on a line with you and you guys get a ton of zone time and points. You don’t think he’s a big factor there?”

There was a pause. “I mean, he’s pretty good at face-offs…”

“Yes!” Lars emphatically. “He’s incredible at face-offs!”

“Better than you.”

“Much better!” he agreed, pleased. “You should tell him that.”

“Yeah, I probably should,” Jordy conceded. “He tells me all the time I’m doing a good job. Pay it forward and all that.” It seemed like he was about to drop it, but he hesitantly asked, “Is he really that good?”

“RJ is an amazing player. I’m glad I don’t have to play against him anymore.”

That was only half true. He’d admittedly not noticed much of Ryan before he’d come to the Blue Crabs, if at all, but that was likely due to the different conferences and their lines not matching up often. If Ryan had been on the first line, he might’ve crossed Lars’s radar. But Lars was glad his face-off percentages wouldn’t drop going up against him and that he wouldn’t have to get around him on the PK outside of practice. If they ever did play against each other in the future, Lars now knew what he was up against and wouldn’t take that matchup lightly.

Jordy didn’t seem to know what to do with this information, but they were both saved from having to answer by Jake’s arrival. The captain slung an arm around Jordy’s shoulder and slurred his way through appreciation that they’d made it out, that they were both playing great, et cetera. Taking the unintended hint, Lars grabbed a big glass of water. They got on the topic of their upcoming homestand, and once Lars asked if there’d be more team outings, Jordy took over. He went on happily about the team’s usual haunts and activities, with Jake occasionally offering incomprehensible stories about shenanigans the team had gotten up to the last time they’d been there.

Lars let them talk, cradling his water as he digested what he’d learned.

Fact one: Lars was into Ryan. Which…honestly not a surprise. He should’ve seen that coming. Ryan was unfairly hot, he was funny and nice, and he was a great hockey player. In isolation, any of those traits might be ignored, but together, Lars had never stood much of a chance.

Fact two: Ryan was bi. He had no idea what Ryan’s type was, but there was a teeny possibility that Lars might be it. This didn’t have to be an unrequited-crush-on-a-straight-teammate territory. Except…

Fact three: They were teammates. Even if Ryan liked him back, they couldn’t do anything about it. Lars wasn’t willing to risk his place in Baltimore on a fling, no matter how open-minded their General Manager might be. If he left the Blue Crabs too quickly, it could kill his career.

So that left him with the unfortunate task of nipping this in the bud. It’d snuck up on him already, but if he quashed any romantic feelings now, he’d be fine. This wasn’t the first time he’d had a crush on someone he played with (though thankfully he hadn’t had to deal with it since he was fifteen in Gothenburg). Lars could handle this.

Excusing himself from the table, he made his way to the bar to close out.

Briefly, he entertained the thought of finding his own hookup. That was usually the best way to get over someone, and he could use the distraction, but the idea made his stomach roil. Monroe had told him the team would be cool with his sexuality, and seeing that Ryan was openly out was heartening, but that didn’t put him in a place where he felt comfortable being so exposed. Anyone in hockey knowing him like that gave them a sort of power that he didn’t like them having. Look what had happened in Portland: his being gay could be turned into a weapon in the wrong hands. As nice as Jordy was, Lars wasn’t about to hand him a knife and hope he didn’t stab him in the back.

If he were being honest, he also didn’t want a one night stand right now. It sounded exhausting. He was tired from hockey, he was tired from drinking, he was tired from travel and had to get on a plane tomorrow, and he was just…tired. He wanted to crawl into his hotel bed, fall asleep to an audiobook, and hopefully not dream of brunet teammates with soft brown eyes.