Page 56 of The Trade Deadline

Chapter 40

Ryan

Ryan was drunk, which was both not difficult to accomplish and rare during the season. The team had celebrated in the locker room with a case of beers that seemed to magically appear as soon as their gear was gone. Despite being a solid team, the Otters hadn’t made it to the Conference Finals in four years. Ryan had never made it even close to this far, so he accepted the beer thrust into his hand and drank it.

That wasn’t why he took the second beer, though. That was from nerves.

Why had he said that to Lars?

The idea had come by accident. He’d been in the airport waiting for the team bus, joking with Anders about Lars’s crab blazer and what they thought he would wear next. Anders’s phone rang and he flashed Ryan an apologetic look before answering.

“Amanda, ?lskling , we just landed…”

Ryan had politely drifted away to give them privacy, though it sounded like they were talking about practical things like dinner arrangements and if Mormor was coming to Game Five. It was only at the end that his full attention went back to Anders.

“Bye, ?lskling. Jag ?lskar dig .”

Ryan had definitely heard those words before.

“What’s that mean?” he’d asked Anders. “ Jag ?lskar dig .”

Anders, who’d been sporting a soft smile, suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Have you heard it before?” he hedged.

“Yeah, Lars says it sometimes.”

“To you?” Anders clarified.

“Yeah, to me. He doesn’t speak Swedish to anyone else. Well, maybe he curses when he’s really angry, but he says there’s not much point in yelling at people in Swedish because he wants the person he’s pissed off at to know what he’s saying.” Ryan swallowed. “What’s it mean?”

The hesitation was enough that he’d figured it out, so he was completely unsurprised when Anders begrudgingly admitted, “It means, I love you.”

Hearing it made him revisit all the times Lars had said it. During sex was easy to dismiss, something said in the heat of the moment, but he’d said it other times, too. While kissing Ryan’s hand as he said goodbye. While falling asleep on the couch because they were too tired to finish the movie or move to the bed. While laughing giddily at one of Ryan’s stupid jokes.

“Oh,” Ryan had said as his world shifted slightly. When the pieces fell back into place, he didn’t think things were all that different. Lars had said it first, sure, but he’d said it in a way he knew Ryan wouldn’t understand. Knowing he felt that way helped settle Ryan’s anxiety about where they were headed, but things weren’t balanced yet. He knew how Lars felt, after all, but Lars had never heard it back.

“Did I get him in trouble?” Anders had asked and unconsciously touched his nose. It was still a little red, bent in a way it hadn’t been before. He’d been allowed to wear a bubble on his helmet up until the end of Round One, and no doubt he’d missed the protection once they started playing the Crabs.

“No,” Ryan had assured him. “I just gotta pay him back.”

That had been as far as his plan had gotten until the handshake line. He’d been practicing saying it, using online tutorials to help his pronunciation because he was too embarrassed to ask Anders, but hadn’t picked a time. He’d assumed he’d know when the moment was right, then like an idiot had blurted it out after beating the Crabs. Nothing said romantic like “we just eliminated you from the playoffs,” right?

As he reached into the cooler for another beer, Anders appeared at his side and took it. “How about I drive you home?” he didn’t so much as offer but ordered. Ryan’s head was too foggy to stop Anders from gently guiding him out the door.

There was a moment of panic when they started driving and Ryan realized where Anders was heading.

“Not my apartment,” he said quickly, then realized awkwardly he’d told Lars he’d meet him…at Anders’s house. “He doesn’t have a key,” he said and hoped the lame excuse might help Anders overlook Ryan inviting himself over.

Anders arched an eyebrow. “This is weird,” he said. “He’s never brought someone home, and I don’t think I ever expected it to be another player.”

“Not a teammate, I’ll bet.”

He nodded. “But it wouldn’t be Lars if he weren’t surprising me and causing trouble all at once.”

“Probably not,” Ryan agreed, and then enjoyed the warmth brought on by he’s never brought someone home .

* * *

Lars’s rental car was in the driveway and Anders parked beside it, giving Ryan a meaningful look before he cut the engine.

“He’ll be in the guest house if he’s expecting you. You know the way?”

Ryan thought back to the party a month ago and sitting on Lars’s bed, missing him and wanting so badly to go back to the way things had been.

“Yeah,” he said.

The stone walkway leading to the guest house was lit with solar lights. The door was ajar but Ryan knocked anyway. There was no answer, so he let himself in and followed the dim glow to Lars’s bedroom. This time he didn’t knock, just slowly pushed the door open.

Lars was in a loose Crabs tee and boxers, hands tucked behind his head. He’d already shaved off his beard, which was doubly disappointing: it’d looked good on him, and it was a sad reminder that Lars’s season was over. He had his ankles crossed, drawing attention to his crew socks. Headphones and long golden hair bracketed his face, and he looked younger than Ryan could remember him. It was just like Geneva, honestly, except for the slight pinch between his eyebrows. His eyes were closed and one foot tapped along with some unknown beat.

He was absolutely adorable, and he was Ryan’s.

Still half-drunk, he didn’t take the adult approach of warning Lars of his presence. Instead he jumped onto the bed next to him, earning an indignant squawk as Lars tried to keep his phone from going flying while keeping himself from rolling off the bed.

“Wha—!?” He cut himself off when he noticed Ryan, then it was a mad scramble to get off his headphones. “You’re here,” was his only warning before Ryan’s lips were stolen in a heated kiss.

“I’ve been here before,” Ryan teased breathlessly.

“Yes, I got your note. Very rude of you to be in my bed without me.” They shared another long, deep kiss before Lars pulled away. “You taste like beer,” he accused. “Are you drunk?”

Ryan wanted to feign indignance, but he giggled and gave himself away. “A little,” he admitted. “There were beers in the locker room.”

Lars’s hand cupped Ryan’s cheek. He trailed a thumb through the beard and said, “I’m really proud of you. Congratulations.”

Heat rose in his cheeks. “I didn’t do much. They would’ve won without me?—”

Lars interrupted him with a kiss, then said, “You’re not allowed to say stuff like that. You helped. A lot. You should’ve heard the whining in our locker room. Everyone saw you were on fire.”

“Yeah?” Ryan didn’t usually like praise because he didn’t really trust it. Evidence always seemed to indicate otherwise. No long term contract. Years of struggling to stay on the third line. Reduced minutes. He fought for all of it, and all the assurances of “good shift” and “nice play” hadn’t meant much. But he liked praise from Lars because he knew Lars believed it. He’d believed it so much, he’d fought for Ryan with the coaches and media. It made it a little easier to accept it elsewhere, too. He had done pretty well in this series. The stats showed it. “I played alright, I guess.”

“You were fantastic,” Lars said with such genuine admiration Ryan thought he might actually die. What had he ever done to deserve Lars Nilsson looking at him like that?

“I love you,” he said without thinking. “I’m so in love with you.”

And he leaned over to kiss Lars again and was startled when Lars pulled back and kept a hand on Ryan’s chest.

“What?” Then embarrassment started to seep into the moment. Oh, God, had he misread?—?

“I love you, too,” Lars said, and Ryan’s nerves settled immediately. “And I would love to fuck your brains out, but we should…” He sighed and looked regretful. “...talk about that?”

Oh, right.

“Probably,” Ryan said. His heart thudded so loudly in his chest he wasn’t sure how Lars couldn’t hear it. “Are we…dating?” And then he braced for the answer.

“I think so,” Lars offered, though he didn’t seem any more confident than Ryan did. “We are in love, and I don’t think we want to sleep with anyone else…”

He paused and it took Ryan too long to realize Lars was waiting for a response.

“No!” His hands clenched in Lars’s shirt and pulled him close. He was still buzzed enough that he didn’t feel ashamed when he whined, “I only want you,” then pressed this body closer so Lars could feel his erection.

Dazed for a moment, Lars seemed to decide between being responsible and finding out just how much Ryan wanted him. “Okay, good. Are we…are you my…boyfriend?”

His dick jerked between them. “Yes, please.”

That prompted Lars to surge forward and kiss him, rolling on top of Ryan so that his own dick pressed insistently against Ryan’s thigh.

“So mean of you to say that in the handshake line,” Lars growled between kisses and pulling their shirts off. “Make me want to fuck you right there on the ice, and you disappear to party without me.”

“You’ve been saying it for weeks!” Ryan said. Then, briefly, coherent thought fizzled out as Lars started to suck a bruise on his neck. “Not fair,” he said eventually, and it was a struggle to find each word. “Saying it when I couldn’t understand you.”

Lars’s hand worked under the waistband of Ryan’s pants. “Think you’ll be able to forgive me?”

“I’m sure we could work something out.”

* * *

Ryan woke up decidedly more sober than when he’d passed out. He was alone in Lars’s bed with a glass of water and an aspirin there to greet him.

The guest house had a small kitchenette tucked in one corner of the living area, and he found Lars there, naked as he poured himself a large glass of strawberry lemonade while a pot of coffee brewed.

“I feel overdressed,” Ryan said. He’d put on the first thing he could find—a blindingly yellow Tre Kronor shirt and a pair of sweatpants that were both too long and too tight—and regretted the effort.

Lars gave him an appreciative once over. “It is a shame to cover up such a hot body, but I do like seeing you in my clothes.” And then he made a face, as though realizing where they were. “I don’t really have any food. I usually eat at the house…” He trailed off and shifted awkwardly on his feet.

“We didn’t really figure anything out last night, did we?” Ryan asked. What was the protocol on eating breakfast with his boyfriend’s family when one of them was your teammate and none of them officially knew the two of them were dating? God, they must have known he’d spent the night. How weird would it be if Lars’s fuck buddy showed up for family breakfast before they cleared up that they were in fact dating?

“Not as much as we should have, no.” Lars grabbed a cup of coffee and they headed back to the bedroom. This was a conversation that required clothes and a bathroom break before they started.

“So, we’re dating,” Lars said, now dressed in joggers that were the perfect length and not at all loose. Still no shirt, though, and the dark blond hairs curling along his chest were an unfair distraction. He waited for Ryan’s nod. “How does that work, exactly? We won’t play for the same team for at least a couple years. We might never play together again.”

“Long distance?” Ryan offered. “I mean…it’s about the only option, isn’t it?”

They both agreed that wasn’t ideal but acceptable. They’d been more or less doing it for months now and had managed it despite not realizing they were dating. It should be easier now that they understood what they were doing.

“Is it a secret?” Lars asked quietly as he stared at his empty lemonade glass. “I know I’m out, but it can be a secret. I don’t mind. If I had kept my mouth shut against the Prowlers, that’s what I would’ve wanted.”

Ryan considered. He wanted the refs and Jake and everyone to lay off him about Lars. They looked at him so suspiciously, and he hated it. But he also didn’t think it was any of their business. Neither he nor Lars had ever really dated before this: having the whole world as an audience seemed awful. Especially since he’d seen the way social media had made Lars’s name a trending topic because of a private part of himself he’d accidentally made public. Lars clearly wasn’t thrilled, but his stardom within the league had already gotten him plenty of attention over the years. While the current discourse around him was new, the fact that everyone was talking about him wasn’t.

Ryan, though, hadn’t really ever gotten used to having the attention—rare as it was—cast his way. If it came out that he and Lars were together…part of him wondered if he’d ever be asked anything ever again that wasn’t at least a little about Lars.

“I don’t have a contract for next year,” he said slowly.

Lars’s face hardened. “I understand.”

“But just because I don’t want everyone knowing…it doesn’t mean it has to be a complete secret. We could tell your family. I think Anders and your mormor already know, so Amanda probably does, too. And Tanner keeps asking. There are definitely people who we could tell.”

He liked the idea of bringing Lars home for Thanksgiving on the ranch, or staying here for a week over the summer.

“You’d be okay with that?” Lars asked, his relief adorable. “I would like it,” he admitted.

“Me too.” Ryan swallowed. He really should stop while they were ahead, while they had a plan that they both agreed on, but he was tired of dreading anything when it came to Lars. “Would you want more…?”

Lars shrugged. “Some day. It’d be nice not to have to worry about hugging you in public. Or how it'll look if I’m at your playoff games when I should be golfing or whatever. I just…” He took a long, shaky breath in. “I haven’t finished dealing with the world knowing I’m gay yet, and I should handle that properly. And obviously if it hurts your chances of getting a good contract next year, I don’t want to do that to your career.”

“Ugh, that makes it sound like I care more about hockey than you.” Did he? He actually wasn’t sure. If the choices were to give up hockey and give up Lars, he honestly didn’t know what he’d do other than be completely miserable with either decision.

“I wouldn’t ask you to give up hockey,” Lars said with a wave of his hand, as though he could hear Ryan’s spiraling thoughts and wanted to make it clear it was a non-issue. “I wouldn’t even be out if I could keep my big mouth shut. It wouldn’t be fair to expect you to do anything I didn’t want to do myself. Whenever you get a new team for next year?—”

“ If I get a team,” he mumbled.

Lars glared at him, and it wasn’t unlike when he was about to charge someone on the ice. “You’ll get a team. You put up great numbers this year. It was bullshit that the Crabs traded you, but after this postseason, other teams will see that you’re worth way more than they’ve been paying you.”

Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. He really wanted to argue, but he didn’t. There’d be no convincing Lars…and admittedly, over the past few months, Lars had done a good job of convincing Ryan that he was a worthwhile player. So instead he focused on the real issue at hand.

“I…want to be able to tell some people, at some point…” He said it slowly as he thought through exactly what he wanted, what was reasonable. “I’d like to tell everyone, honestly, but I’m not ready for that kind of attention.”

Lars nodded, his expression saying, Yeah, the attention fucking sucks. “We can tell people we trust to keep it quiet,” he agreed. “Mormor, Amanda, the children.” Belatedly, he added, “Anders.”

“My parents, my sisters, Tanner,” Ryan listed off, then frowned. “Honestly, that’s about it.”

“You would tell your parents about me?” Lars looked pleased at the prospect. “No one’s ever brought me home.”

“They’ll love you,” Ryan promised. “Except for my brothers-in-law who might hate you because of how many times you helped kick the Mustangs out of the playoffs.”

Lars raised his eyebrows. “Well, they probably shouldn’t have expected the Mustangs to make it out of the first round.”

“Oh yeah, they’ll hate you for sure.” Although Lars laughed along with Ryan, he looked nervous. “I’m kidding,” Ryan promised. “They’ll give you shit for it, but I have brought like…zero romantic partners home in my whole adult life. They’ll be thrilled, and since they think I’m either super-picky or super-career-driven, they’ll be too shocked to do much more than smile and try to feed you way too many potatoes.”

“Potatoes?”

He gave a half-shrug. “It’s the midwest. Everything’s meat and potatoes. We grow some on the ranch.”

“You hate potatoes.”

“Yep, I do. Probably because I ate them every day until I was old enough to get my coach to tell my parents it wasn’t the best nutritionally for my workout goals. And if you think you like potatoes, give it a week at the Russell household and I promise you’ll change your mind.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten tired of food,” Lars said slowly, as if he were going through a mental checklist of food items, “but I suppose we’ll find out.”

Ryan ignored that he’d basically invited Lars to the ranch for a week and Lars had accepted. That was a post-playoffs issue. He still had to figure out breakfast.

“So…am I coming into the main house with you today?” Then to show he wasn’t trying to pressure Lars, he added in a rush, “It’s okay if you wanna, like, talk to them first. I don’t mind.”

“You expect me to kick you out without breakfast?” Lars sounded actually offended. “You’ll come inside and see everyone. I guarantee they’re staring out the windows trying to see when we’ll appear.”

Ryan’s gaze flicked to the main house. It was impossible to see anything from this distance, but he imagined the Nilssons crowded around the kitchen and wondering who would spy Lars and Ryan first.

“They’ll be pretty excited,” Lars continued. “If you don’t want to do it today?—”

“I want to,” Ryan said before he could consider if that was actually true. It didn’t take much consideration to realize it was. “Though half of that is because I’m starving.”

“Mormor will have a Swedish breakfast laid out. Lots of muesli and yogurt and fruit, you’ll love it. If she knew you were here, she might’ve even made eggs with caviar.”

When they entered the kitchen, the adults were nonchalantly pretending to read their phones; Astrid and Anton were grinning widely and not trying to hide it.

“Good morning, Ryan,” Anton said sweetly.

“Mornin’,” Ryan said with an awkward wave. He was well aware that he was standing half-behind Lars, trying to hide, as if he weren’t an equally large human.

The rest of the family sat there, waiting for someone to address the elephant in the room. Ryan didn’t much like being the elephant, and it felt like he’d swallowed his tongue because he couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

Lars, practically skipping as he pulled Ryan further into the kitchen, was beaming from ear to ear. “ Morrn .” He slung an arm around Ryan’s shoulder. “You all know Ryan, my boyfriend. I hope you don’t mind if he joins us for breakfast?” He said it so casually, like this was an everyday occurrence for all parties.

While Lars sat down and piled bread, cheese, and cold cuts onto his plate, Ryan tried to subtly gauge everyone’s reaction. The kids looked the most excited, with a glint in their eyes he recognized from his nieces and nephews: any minute now they would start badgering them with questions.

Amanda and Anders both looked a little shell-shocked, though they must’ve had their suspicions about them. Why else would Amanda have texted him about Lars? Why would Anders be so open about his brother? He suspected it was Lars’s easy admittance that they were dating that threw them off.

Mormor’s eyes glinted as though she were holding back unshed tears. She reached over to pat Lars on the cheek. “My Lasse, so grown up.” Then her attention turned to Ryan, and offered the warmest smile he’d ever seen. “Welcome to the family, Lillen.”