Page 1 of Tough Guy (Game Changers #3)
“Are you happy?”
Ryan Price couldn’t tell if Coach Cooper was asking the question of him, or of the computer the man hadn’t taken his eyes from. The honest answer was that Ryan couldn’t quite recall what happiness felt like, but that would be an awkward thing to admit, so instead he just said, “Sure.”
“Great,” Coach said absently. “Glad to hear it. You found a place to live yet?”
“Still at the hotel, but I’m looking at—”
“I guess you’re the expert in changing cities.” Coach finally turned his gaze to Ryan, and smiled at him as if he’d just thought of the funniest joke in the world. “You’ve pretty much got a full bingo card now, right?”
“Yeah.” Ryan didn’t even try to return the smile. “Pretty much.”
Coach leaned back in his chair and folded his muscular arms over his chest. Bruce Cooper was possibly in better shape than any player on the Toronto Guardians roster.
He’d never played in the NHL himself, but he kept his body in top form, as if suggesting to his players that he could very easily tie on skates and replace any of them at any time.
“Well, you know why you’re here. I don’t have to tell you what kind of player you are, and what we expect from you.
You get what I’m saying, I’m sure.” He stopped smiling, and fixed a very pointed look at Ryan.
Ryan got what he was saying all right. It was the same thing every coach he’d had since he was seventeen had told him: we need you to beat the shit out of opponents who threaten our real players.
“Yes, Coach,” Ryan said. He had just finished his first skate with the Guardians, and it had gone...fine. A few players had shot him curious looks, but no one had been particularly friendly to him. Ryan’s reputation had obviously preceded him.
“Protecting Kent is the priority,” Coach said. “He’s got a mouth on him, but we don’t want him getting hurt. Guys might think twice about coming for him if they know they’ll have to, you know, Pay the Price.” He grinned.
Ryan cringed. “Yep. Got it.”
“Good,” Coach said cheerfully. “Now, the other thing I wanted to talk about was your history of not getting along with your teammates.”
Ryan Price ran his tongue along the bottom of his front teeth, scraping off the residue of the four Tums he had crunched down before he’d entered his new coach’s office. He wanted to get as much of the antacid into his stomach as possible for this.
“It’s not that,” Ryan tried to explain. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t get along with them. I just...keep to myself. I guess.”
Coach frowned. “The Guardians are a team, Ryan. On the ice and off. Teams are built on trust and camaraderie.”
“I know. I’ll try harder.”
“Great to hear,” Coach said, as if the matter was resolved.
Ryan didn’t expect to form any particularly strong bonds to any of his teammates.
Something about being naturally awkward, shy, clinically anxious, terrified of flying, and, oh yes, gay, didn’t exactly make him a friend magnet in the ol’ locker room.
But he would try.
“And, listen.” Coach dropped his voice and leaned forward. “You’re not gonna, like, freak out on us, right? Like before?”
Ryan’s eyebrows shot up. Wow. That’s direct. “I, uh... I’ve been working on that.”
Coach narrowed his eyes. “Working on it, like, what? Meditation or yoga or whatever?”
“No. I mean, a bit. But, like, therapy. And I have a prescription—”
“So you have it under control. Good.” Coach waved his hand, clearly glad to have the conversation over with. “Let’s get through training camp and we’ll figure out where you’re gonna fit on this team.”
“Okay, Coach.”
When Coach turned back to his computer, Ryan stood up, nodded, and left the room. The little chat hadn’t been much different from the one he’d had with his last coach. Or the coach before that. We want you to be terrifying on the ice, and normal off of it.
Ryan headed back to the locker room to get ready for the physical testing the Guardians would be doing that afternoon.
In the room, he saw Toronto’s star player, Dallas Kent, talking to another star player, Troy Barrett.
Kent was short for a hockey player, with blond hair and pale blue eyes.
He wasn’t what Ryan would call attractive, but that was mostly because his arrogance showed all over his face.
Barrett was prettier, with piercing blue eyes and dark hair, but still far from Ryan’s type.
Ryan figured he may as well introduce himself to the men he was expected to protect.
As he got closer, he could hear Kent describing his previous evening’s sexual exploits in great detail to Barrett.
Kent didn’t even glance up at Ryan when he’d approached, leaving him to stand awkwardly while Kent finished his gross story.
“Swear to god, I thought she was gonna pass out!”
Barrett laughed. Ryan cleared his throat, and Kent finally looked up.
“Oh. Hey.” There was a bit of a sneer in Kent’s tone.
“Hi,” Ryan said stupidly. He thrust his hand out. “I’m Ryan.”
Kent stared at Ryan’s hand, then shot a look at Barrett. Finally, he quickly shook Ryan’s hand and said, “I thought you went crazy.”
“No,” Ryan said, heat rising in his cheeks and down his neck. “I have it under control.”
Barrett snorted. Kent looked at Ryan like he was a pile of dead snakes. “I fucking hope so, Red.”
Ryan’s jaw clenched. That was not a name he was going to answer to.
“Ryan,” he corrected him. He straightened his spine, rolling his shoulders back to bring himself to his full height. He let just enough of the monster out to show Dallas Kent that Ryan wasn’t someone to fuck with. “Not Red.”
Kent put his hands up in a placating manner. “Whatever, man.” He turned back to Barrett and resumed his story as if Ryan wasn’t even there anymore.
Ryan felt his chest tightening as he retreated to his stall. Fortunately, he’d gotten good at talking himself down from these mild attacks.
Inhale for two, exhale for three. Inhale for three, exhale for four. Inhale for four, exhale for five...
He was okay. He was fine. Dallas Kent was clearly a fucking asshole, but Ryan was okay.
This is just a job. This is not you. You are more than this job.
Every job has shitty co-workers, right?
He counted one more breath, in and out, then started rummaging around in his gym bag, just for something to do.
“Wanna know a secret?”
Ryan was startled by the unexpected question. He turned to see Wyatt Hayes, who had been Toronto’s backup goaltender for years. “Sure?”
“Dallas Kent is,” Wyatt leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper, “a bit of a douchebag.”
Ryan sputtered, surprised. “So it’s not just me, then?”
“Hell no. But he’s the superstar, right, so what can you do?”
Ryan could think of a couple of things he’d like to do to him.
Wyatt laughed. “Holy shit, Price. Your face! You can’t punch him!”
“I know. I wasn’t gonna.”
“Well, if you change your mind, make sure you tell me. I wanna watch.”
Ryan shook his head, but he was smiling. He decided that he liked Wyatt Hayes. So that was something.
He had thought it might be different, this season.
In retrospect, he had no idea why. Since his junior hockey days, Ryan had obligingly filled the role of enforcer on any team he played for.
He had never been enthusiastic about it; if he’d wanted to be a boxer, he could have followed in his father’s footsteps and been one. Ryan wanted to be a hockey player.
This past summer, after learning he had been traded yet again, Ryan had decided to throw himself into training.
He’d worked on his skating, his speed, his lower body conditioning.
He’d found a trainer in Buffalo, where he had still been living, and worked his ass off doing sprints, lunges, squats, and a whole nightmare of similar inhuman activities.
He’d shown up for this training camp in Toronto in the best shape of his life with the hope that he might be taken seriously as a defenseman. He would give these fitness tests everything he had, but he doubted it would change anyone’s mind about the role he would play on this new team.
God. Ryan wasn’t sure he could do this anymore. He would, because what else was he going to do? His résumé was pretty sparse.
“Ready to go through hell?” Wyatt asked. Ryan knew he was referring to the fitness testing, but Ryan was thinking about the whole season.
“Sure,” he said. “Let’s get it over with.”