Page 15 of The Trade Deadline

Chapter 10

Ryan

Ryan didn’t regret his hookup in Toronto. He’d worked off some energy and had felt good and relaxed for a solid week afterwards. It was rejuvenating and had spurred a three game scoring streak.

That it helped distract him from the growing place Lars held in his life was an added benefit.

After talking to Tanner, he decided it did make sense to view Lars as a friend. It seemed like they both could use the connection, and it was easier to work on this new relationship than to try and shift the ones he already had. For better or worse, their other teammates already had their views of who Ryan was to the team and to them, and he wasn’t interested in fighting an uphill battle to change that. Besides, Lars wanted to be his friend.

So instead of avoiding Lars and keeping distance, on a Friday afternoon after practice, Ryan decided to bite the bullet and just…go for it.

“Hey,” he said to Lars as he took a seat next to him in the locker room. Most of the team had cleared out to the showers or left already, so it was easy to snag a spot next to Lars as he finished putting on his shoes.

Lars immediately abandoned his shoe and sat up straight, his face brightening. “Hi.”

“So, I’ve got a favor to ask you.”

“Stop scoring goals? I’m halfway to catching up.”

“Oh, I’m actually going to need you to score twice as many. You promised me the playoffs, and if the team is relying on me as top goal scorer, we’re doomed.”

Lars’s face dimmed. “Ryan?—”

“This is actually way more important than the playoffs, anyway.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Youth hockey.”

Lars sat there, staring at Ryan like he was expecting a punchline. When he realized Ryan wasn’t going to expand, he eventually asked, “What about it?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he said with his best salesperson voice. “So the Crabs sponsor a few local programs, and I volunteer whenever I can, and I promise to coerce other players from the team to stop by. It really motivates the kids and I can offer you beer and pizza to sweeten the deal if kids aren’t your thing.”

Lars stared at him blankly. “Youth hockey? Here?”

Ryan couldn’t help but bristle. He forced aside bad memories from Juniors. “What, in America?” he said and couldn’t quite keep the warning note from his voice.

“No, I mean.” Lars gestured vaguely to their surroundings. Even in the locker room, there were no less than three Maryland flags in plain sight. No doubt more lurked in places Ryan simply hadn’t noticed. “ Here. ”

“Maryland’s growing its program,” Ryan said carefully. It wasn’t nearly as robust as what he’d known growing up in Montana, but even in the past few seasons he’d been involved, he’d seen growth.

“It’s just…so warm here. Does it even snow?”

“Sometimes.” And then all the schools close down and I’m trapped in my apartment because the roads are for shit. Not at all like Montana .

Lars didn’t seem convinced. Ryan didn’t blame him. It was Maryland, a state that only avoided being called southern by virtue of being forced to fight for the Union. It wasn’t Montana or Sweden or a place that looked like it understood ice. Still, there were more bizarre cities with teams. If Texas could have an NHL team, you couldn’t fault Maryland for trying to develop young players.

As if sensing this was a hill Ryan was completely willing to die on, he shrugged and said, “Sure. When?”

“Really?”

“Did you expect me to say no? Yes, I’ll come.”

“Was it helping the kids or the beer that got you?”

Something flitted through Lars’s expression, so fast Ryan couldn’t pinpoint what he saw. “Obviously helping the kids.”

“So I don’t need to get you a beer?”

“You do. To recover from the kids. I have a niece and nephew. I know children are monsters,” he said conspiratorially.

Ryan laughed. “Ohh, I know. I’ve got plenty of nieces and nephews. The hockey kids are pretty good. They’ll be too in awe of you to act up. They’ll be showing off like crazy, though.” He stood up. “Bring a Crabs jersey, a stick, and skates. Expect lots of autographs and pictures, but we’ll be on the ice for at least an hour.”

Lars nodded solemnly. “I’ll be ready. And then you take me out for beer. And you have to drink one.”

“That’s not?—”

“Just one. I’ll get you a protein shake to make up for it.” His blue eyes were wide and pleading. He was kind of adorable, a treacherous thought Ryan immediately quashed.

“No promises,” Ryan said. He knew if Lars batted his baby blues at him again, he’d cave. He didn’t need Lars figuring that out, though. “I’ll text you the deets.”

* * *

They met in the parking lot of a rink just outside of the city proper. There weren’t any camera crews or handlers there to shepherd them around, only some parents and families who eyed the two of them with unabashed interest.

“Is this really the right place?” Lars sounded nervous as he waved to a couple teenagers not-so-surreptitiously taking their picture. “Where is everyone?”

“This is it,” Ryan promised. “Like I said, I volunteer. This isn’t a press thing. The kids’ll be inside getting dressed. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the coaches.”

The facility had two rinks, one currently taken over by figure skating lessons, and the other getting zambed before practice. The coaches welcomed Ryan warmly and then nearly fainted when they saw Lars.

“Lars Nilsson!” the older one said. “I saw your daddy win the Cup! Spent a month’s pay for those tickets!”

Lars’s smile was perfect despite it not quite reaching his eyes. “I was there, too. Can’t remember it, though.”

“You must’ve been what? Seven?”

“Three,” Lars said with an edge to his voice Ryan had never heard before. “So what do you need from us?”

The younger coach took over, explaining the drills they hoped to do. The kids were Mites, no older than eight, and were mostly working on their skating with the puck.

“And they’d probably love to see you two shoot,” the coach added with a wink. “I bet I could find some of the older goalies who’d love a chance to stop an NHL player.”

“I don’t know if I could take it if they shut me out,” Lars joked.

“I can tell you nothing will delight them more than to stop even one,” he said. “C’mon, let’s see who we can find.”

While they looked for a goalie, Ryan caught up with the other coaches. He asked about their tournament schedule, about the returning kids from last season, and whether they needed any gear or funds he could help them with. Last year he’d managed to get the Blue Crabs to sponsor the teams’ jerseys, and hopefully he could convince Monroe to do something similar this year.

By the time they’d hashed everything out, warm-ups were almost over. They got on the ice in time to see the kids trailing behind Lars like ducklings.

“Let’s play follow the leader!” he called. “I’ll go first. Follow Uncle Lasse, okay?”

He picked up speed and went around the circles, the kids happily trailing behind. When he pivoted and switched to skating backwards, half the kids fell over. Lars weaved through the coaches, losing more kids as they crashed into each other, laughing in delight. After a few minutes, the coaches whistled for the practice to officially start.

As usual, Ryan was another set of hands to help the kids. Lars ended up more as a cheerleader, encouraging kids whether their shots went in or not. During a water break, Lars found his way over to Ryan.

“This is fun,” he said with a wide grin. His cheeks were rosy and his loose hair fell across his face. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Any time. Though I have to ask…Lassie?” Ryan asked, unable to hold back a smirk. “Like the dog?”

Lars quirked his head in a not-undog-like tilt. “What dog?”

“Lassie. Always saving Timmy from a well or bears or whatever. I dunno, I never watched the show.”

“Show?”

“Yeah.”

“About a dog named Lasse?”

“Yeah.”

Lars frowned then shrugged. “It’s what everyone in Sweden calls me. Family and friends.”

There was a moment, brief and electric, where Ryan thought there was an invitation in Lars’s explanation. It was almost on the tip of his tongue to ask if he could call him that, but he chickened out. Then the kids were clamoring for their attention, and the moment had passed.

“Shootout! Shootout! Shootout!” they chanted with a wild look in their eyes that gave him serious Lord of the Flies vibes.

They ended up breaking the group into two teams, Ryan and Lars each taking a group to work with them on their shooting skills in preparation for a competition at the end of practice. Ryan showed his group a few of his preferred shootout moves and had them practice, while it seemed Lars was more concerned with showing his group his favorite post-goal celebrations. The Mites didn’t have any goalies at practice that day, and the promised teenagers arrived. They were good sports, letting most of the younger kids score on them much to their excitement.

“Time for Coach RJ and Coach Lars to show us what they got!” one of the coaches said, earning delighted squeals from the kids and a lot of phones coming out from the parents.

“So…” Lars whispered at center ice. “Are we taking it easy on them or playing for real?”

Ryan watched the goalies, who were grim faced and determined. “Hard at first, then adjust. Make it look good, though.”

“I always do,” Lars said with a wink.

They didn’t actually need to be concerned: the goalies rocked it. Even when they were trying, they each only made two of their six attempts. The kids whooped loudly for every save as much as every goal, and Ryan was grinning ear to ear through the obligatory photo shoot at the end.

“How often do you do this?” Lars asked after they were finally rescued to the safety of the coaches’ office.

“Maybe once a month if we’re in town. Why, you coming back?”

“I might…” A lazy smile washed over his face. “If the beer is good.”

Ryan hoped he wasn’t blushing. “You really not going to let that go?”

“Of course not. One beer at Rangoons and any crab-related food you think I need to try as a Marylander.”

Ryan snorted. “I’ve been here a couple years and I can’t claim I know anything about crabs. But they’ve got good crab cakes, so maybe we start with that.”

They shared crab cakes and beers at Rangoons while recounting their favorite parts of the practice. It had been fun, just like Lars said, but this…shoulders bumping and knees knocking together under the bar and leaning in to laugh in each other’s space…this was the best part of Ryan’s day.