Page 37 of Tough Guy (Game Changers #3)

The next two weeks were total misery for Ryan.

The flights, which would have been difficult anyway without Wyatt, were absolutely harrowing.

It was all Ryan could do to force himself to board each plane.

When he was on board, he sat alone near the back and hyperventilated.

By the third flight, he asked the team doctor to give him something extra to help him calm down.

The pills didn’t cure his anxiety, but they made him drowsy and downgraded his panic to a manageable level.

Despite what he had promised Fabian during their fight, Ryan could feel himself developing a dependence on drugs.

He was in so much pain all the time, and the relief that came from a Toradol shot was heady.

The pills he took after the game helped keep the excruciation of the aftermath of playing with an injury to a minimum.

He’d also started asking for sleeping pills. Every second he wasn’t focused on his back pain, he was overcome by the agony of his shattered heart.

The hardest part was knowing that Fabian had been absolutely right. Every word had been the truth. And because of that, Ryan knew he shouldn’t try to contact him. Just as Ryan had always believed, Fabian deserved so much better than him.

He knew Fabian was playing shows. He knew his album release show was coming up next week, but Ryan wouldn’t dare go. The best thing either of them could do was forget this entire stupid relationship.

Like all NHL teams, the Guardians had a week off either before or after the NHL All-Star weekend.

This year the Guardians had theirs the week before.

Ryan tried not to think about how wonderful it would have been to spend it with Fabian.

Instead, he holed up in his apartment and focused on healing his back.

On Wednesday, Ryan was woken by a phone call from Wyatt.

“Hey, Pricey. How’s vacation?”

“It’s okay. Quiet.” Ryan’s head felt a little thick. He’d taken a sleeping pill late last night and the effects hadn’t quite worn off.

“I’m just calling because I wanted you to hear this from a friend before you heard it somewhere else.”

Ryan blinked. “Did you get traded again?”

“No. It’s about Duncan Harvey.”

“Harvey? What about him?”

He heard Wyatt exhale and then say, “He died. They found him yesterday. At home. It looks like suicide by overdose.”

Ryan sat up. “What?”

“I know. It’s awful. It’ll be all over the news today.”

Ryan was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. “Is there a funeral?”

“No details yet, but I imagine it will be in his hometown. He’s an Ontario farmboy, but I forget the town. I’m in the Bahamas with Lisa right now, otherwise I’d try to go.”

“Yeah.” Ryan wished he could will away the effects of that pill. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around any of this.

“I’m sorry to have to give you this news. Will you be okay? Is your, um, boyfriend—?”

“I’m fine,” Ryan said quickly, not wanting Wyatt to mention Fabian even in vague terms. “Thanks for calling. I appreciate it.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

Ryan was so far from all right it wasn’t funny. “Yeah. I’ll look into the funeral. Have fun on the beach, okay?”

“Sure. But, y’know, call me if you need to.”

God, Ryan missed Wyatt. “I will. Thanks.”

They said their goodbyes and Ryan hauled himself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, where he immediately turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it.

Okay. He would find out when and where the funeral would be held, and he would drive there. That was something he could do. It was the least that he could do. Hopefully a lot of NHL players would do the same.

He couldn’t help but replay their last fight—or, more accurately, their non-fight—as he showered. Was Ryan partially to blame for what had happened to Duncan? Had his refusal to fight him pushed him closer to the edge?

He couldn’t let himself think these things.

When he stepped out of the shower, his head felt clearer and he realized his back wasn’t bothering him as much. It seemed that actually taking the time to rest and heal was indeed effective.

“You were right, Fabian,” Ryan said to the empty room.

“Feel free to take that off the shelf, if you want a closer look.”

Fabian blinked, and realized, as his eyes focused, that he’d been staring at a stainless steel anal bead wand with what must have been an expression of deepest longing. But the truth was he’d only been thinking about Ryan. Again.

“I can give you the staff discount on one if you want,” Vanessa continued. “It’s the least I can do after I made you test out that garbage vibrator.”

“No, sorry. I wasn’t even looking at it. I’m just...scattered.”

Vanessa turned away from the shelf of lube bottles she’d been straightening and rested a hand on Fabian’s arm. “You could reach out to him, you know.”

Fabian shook his head slowly, and forced a laugh that sounded hideous. “The whole idea of us was absurd. We don’t make sense.”

“But you miss him.”

“God, so much.”

Vanessa gave an exasperated sigh, then went back to straightening the lube shelf.

“What?” Fabian asked.

“I don’t know. It’s like you went into this thing with Ryan determined to prove that it couldn’t work or something. Yeah, I never would have expected you to fall for a professional hockey player, but you did. And then as soon as the hockey stuff got real, you bolted.”

“That’s not fair,” Fabian argued. “He was lying to me. Hurting himself. He’s...self-destructive.”

She jabbed a bottle of lube in his direction. “Sounds like he could use some love and support.”

Fabian didn’t have anything to say to that. He knew it was true, and it was the reason he’d felt like complete shit for the past two weeks. He wasn’t strong enough to be Ryan’s boyfriend. He wasn’t able to overcome his own hatred and fear of everything hockey was. Everything it did to people.

“I saw Claude last night,” he said quietly, changing the subject.

The disappointment was clear on Vanessa’s face. “Oh, Fabian. No. You didn’t, did you?”

“No. No, I promise. Nothing happened. I ran into him at Greta’s art opening. We talked. Shared a joint outside.” He looked away. “I mean, he did try to kiss me. But I told him I couldn’t.”

“Oh. Good. Why are you telling me, then?”

“Because seeing Claude just made it all so much clearer. I don’t want him or anyone like him. I think I might be ruined for anyone other than the one person I really shouldn’t be with.”

“Which brings me back to my first suggestion: reach out to him.” A customer walked in the door then, and Vanessa gave Fabian an apologetic smile. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Sure,” he said, but Vanessa had already left to help the customer. Fabian shouldn’t have been bothering his friend at work anyway. He left the shop with a wave and an abysmal attempt at a smile in Vanessa’s direction, and walked out into a light snowfall.

As soon as the hockey stuff got real, you bolted. Oh god, that was exactly what Fabian had done, wasn’t it? He could handle dating a hockey player as long as he didn’t have to see any real evidence of it.

But maybe that wasn’t unreasonable of him.

His whole life, Fabian had only known hockey to be a horrible, toxic thing that celebrated homophobic bullies and trained boys to believe there was only one acceptable way to be a man.

Hockey was the wall that separated Fabian from his own family, the blueprint for masculinity that prevented his parents from understanding their only son.

Fabian knew himself, and he knew he would never be a fan of the game, or the culture that surrounded it.

So wouldn’t it be unfair of him to pretend he could overlook all of that?

He liked Ryan a lot—he always had—and he wished he could be the strong, supportive cheerleader Ryan deserved. All he could do was worry about Ryan while refusing to even watch his games. That was a terrible foundation for a relationship.

But still, Fabian wanted to be with him. So maybe he could meet Ryan in the middle somewhere. If Ryan would just take time to let his fucking injuries heal, it would be something. If he could tell his coaches that he didn’t want to fight anymore. If he could...

Fabian sighed. He knew enough about what hockey was like to know that Ryan couldn’t do either of those things without risking his entire career. Ryan wasn’t a superstar; he was in no position to make demands. He was replaceable.

But not to Fabian, obviously. With each passing day it was becoming clearer that Ryan had completely claimed Fabian’s heart. Fabian had no doubt he could find an attractive man to replace Ryan—tonight, probably, if he wanted—but the man wouldn’t have Ryan’s sweetness. His giant heart. His courage.

Because Ryan was the bravest person Fabian had ever met. Ryan might not believe it, but Fabian knew it was true. He faced his fears every day—flying, fighting, socializing—and how many people could say that? Fabian was the coward. Ryan’s career terrified him, so he’d run away.

Fabian wanted to fix this problem desperately.

He had no answers right now, and he really needed to focus on the album release show, which was only days away.

Maybe after that show he could devote some time to this.

Maybe a healthy relationship with Ryan was impossible, but if there was even a chance, he had to try.

Ryan entered the small funeral parlor that sat across the street from the Tim Hortons in Duncan Harvey’s hometown. His back was a little stiff after driving for three hours, but overall wasn’t bad.

Ryan wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but there were a lot of empty seats in the room where the service would be held. He didn’t see any NHL players among the crowd. He recognized some of Harvey’s coaches, but none of his teammates. Chicago’s team captain, Clarke, wasn’t even there.

But, of course, today was Friday. And Clarke would be at All-Star Weekend in St. Louis.