Chapter Seventeen

RILEY SPENT his three-game scratch on bench, watching Vazov turn out a win, a loss, and an overtime shoot-out win. Riley wasn’t mad about not playing, and it was good experience for the younger goalie, who Riley really did like. It was probably good for him to rest up, considering the playoffs were coming.

Halley didn’t apologize for running his mouth, so Riley didn’t apologize for hitting him. He just gave Halley a stony glare when Halley shot the puck at him during practice, and made sure Halley didn’t score.

Riley was half expecting Ethan to skate up to Halley and deck him. But instead Ethan just cornered Halley in the locker room and said, “If you have a problem with me, deal with me. Leave my family out of it. Oh, and by the way? My sisters could kick your ass. Not that it’s hard.”

Halley flushed darkly, but he just slammed his locker and shouldered past Ethan without a word. Riley thought Halley gave him a guilty look on his way out of the room, but he could have imagined it.

Halley had always been standoffish and sort of an asshole, and while he wasn’t the most well-liked guy on the team, no one was overtly rude to him or anything. But that changed after that confrontation in the locker room. Ethan was well liked, and everyone knew how important his family was to him. It was too close to the playoffs to ignore the guy completely—Halley was their top scorer, even if he wasn’t scoring as many goals as Lane had by this time last year—but his reception off the ice was chilly at best.

Even on the ice, when Halley scored goals, his teammates’ fist bumps lacked a bit of enthusiasm.

The team knew about Riley and Ethan, and no one ever had a problem with it. In his broken, halting English, Vazov tried to express to Riley that it wasn’t a problem. From what Riley could understand of the conversation, either Vaz had a friend or relative back in Russia who was gay, or it was a plot on a Russian television drama that he liked. Riley still wasn’t sure which of those it was, but it was nice to know his backup didn’t care he had a boyfriend.

One afternoon, on the way to one of his extra practice sessions at the rink, Ethan dropped Riley at Cruisers, and he saw Halley sitting at a table by himself, reading a book. He tried to ignore him, but for some reason, Riley thought, What would Ethan do? Then he had to ponder that for a little while, because he realized he wasn’t exactly sure what Ethan would do.

Ethan had a hair-trigger temper, but it was less aimed at people and more aimed at inanimate objects—especially technology—that didn’t do what they were supposed to. Riley had seen him repeatedly hit the remote control against the arm of the couch when it wasn’t working because the batteries had died, and Ethan yelled at his phone whenever a call got dropped or it didn’t send a text message. He was rarely angry at the guys he fought on the ice, and Riley wondered if Ethan realized he fought because of his ethics—not his temper.

Which meant that Ethan would probably say something to Halley. Except Halley had mouthed off about Ethan’s family, and that was something Ethan wouldn’t forgive lightly. Riley wasn’t sure he really had anything to say to Halley, but it struck him that he should think of something. The playoffs were coming up, and the team needed to play together, without any outside distractions.

Riley took his Coke and walked over to the table, his mind made up. Ethan was going to be distracted if the situation weren’t addressed, and Halley might not play as well. Besides, Riley wanted to know what the guy’s problem was already.

“Hi,” Riley said when Halley looked up. “Can I sit down?”

Halley shrugged. “Free country,” he muttered, almost petulantly. He was reading a book called Journeyman by Sean Pronger, whose brother, Chris Pronger, was an infamous NHL player who’d recently retired.

“Book any good?” Riley asked as he sat down on the other side.

Halley gave him an unfriendly stare. “Yeah. What do you want, Hunter?”

So this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, then. Riley dropped the small talk. “I want to win the Kelly Cup. And to do that, you need to get over whatever your problem is.”

“Look, Kennedy—”

“No. Not with Kennedy,” Riley interrupted him firmly. “With me.”

Halley looked away. “I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Yes. You do,” Riley said, and took a sip of his soda. “You have since you got here. Why?”

“Can’t I just not like someone without getting the third degree?” Halley snapped, still not looking at Riley. “We’re teammates. We don’t have to be friends.”

“We’d be better players if we were better teammates,” Riley said. “And I really don’t know what I’ve done to piss you off so much. You got a problem with me because I have a boyfriend?”

“I got a problem with your taste in boyfriends, but I could give a shit who you fuck, Hunter.”

“Sure doesn’t sound that way,” Riley said, trying to ignore the flash of irritation at hearing that about Ethan. Maybe Riley was the one who had a temper when it came to other people.

Maybe it took Ethan to teach you how to stop ignoring things that made you angry.

“It wasn’t easy, you know,” Halley said, dragging Riley’s attention back to him. “Coming here. All I heard about was how good Courtnall was—how he was the captain and the rookie of the year. And fuck, if the team didn’t win with him on the first line, how the fuck are we gonna do it with me? I can’t even score on our own goalie in practice.”

That made sense, and it was along the lines of what Riley suspected Halley’s problem was, but it was still annoying. “Scoring a goal on me in practice isn’t going to make you Lane, Halley.”

Halley flushed again, but his voice was tense when he spoke. “I know. The pressure got to me. Okay? The coach reamed me a new one for that. But I can tell everyone thinks it’s hilarious that I haven’t scored in practice. And you know, I have. On the backup. It’s just that nothing I ever do is as good as Courtnall.”

“Lane didn’t score on me all that much either,” Riley told him, his pride a bit miffed. Sure. Lane did put more than one puck past him, but it wasn’t like it was a lot. “And I’m not the goalie you need to score on anyway. You are our leading scorer. Everyone knows that. But just so you know? Scoring a goal because you piss me off doesn’t make you good at hockey. It makes you an asshole.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Okay? I shouldn’t have said any of that and I know it.”

That was good to hear. Riley didn’t want to play with someone who thought that kind of behavior was acceptable. “Thanks for the apology. You should give one to Ethan, you know.”

Halley winced. “He’ll hit me, though.”

“Nah,” a voice said, startling them both. “He would have done it already.” Ethan handed Riley his keys. “Here you go, boyfriend. I even put gas in it. It was only a buck seventy-two. That’s all the change I could find in the seats.”

“Wow,” Halley said to Riley. “Really?”

Riley took the keys and slipped them into his pocket. “No one’s hitting anyone. I haven’t gotten my cheeseburger yet, so I don’t want to get kicked out.”

“And I haven’t stolen half your fries yet, so definitely not,” Ethan agreed cheerfully. “Move over, Riles. So why’d you say that shit, Halley? And why do you never, ever turn the volume off when you’re playing Angry Birds in our hotel room?”

“I said that shit because I wanted to knock Hunter off his game and score a goal,” Halley said. “But I do that thing with Angry Birds just to piss you off.”

“That’s what I thought, fucker.” Ethan grabbed Riley’s Coke and took a drink. “I meant what I said. You got a problem with me, tell me about it. Stop being all… passive-whatever.”

“Passive-aggressive,” Halley supplied. “And I know. Look. I just told Hunter I didn’t mean any of that shit. Also I’ve played with gay dudes before. I don’t care. I’m just frustrated because I’ve been playing like shit since I got here.”

“Stop trying to play like Lane,” Ethan said. He shrugged. “Play like you. Halley, every goddamn guy on this team is a better hockey player than me, but I don’t let that stop me.”

“You’re an enforcer, Kennedy. Not a goal scorer.”

“Tell that to Jared Shore. He was last year’s MVP of the playoffs,” Ethan retorted. “And the more you try to score on Riley, the more you’ll telegraph what you’re gonna do, and he’ll anticipate your every move and keep stopping you.”

At the somewhat stunned looks Halley and Riley gave him, Ethan shrugged. “What? I pay attention in practice, you guys.”

Halley sighed, but he looked a lot less tense. Riley understood what it was like to be under pressure, but he still didn’t excuse Halley for acting like an asshole because of it. Then again, Riley did play the most stressful position in hockey, so maybe he had a bit more experience dealing with the pressure. And he was probably getting laid a lot more than Halley was.

“Can we be done with the team bonding now?” Halley asked.

“Maybe.” Ethan finished the last of Riley’s Coke and then pointed at Halley with his straw. “You gonna leave the volume up on Angry Birds?”

“Probably. Unless you turn off the goddamn key-clack noise on your phone when you’re texting loverboy there.” Halley gave Ethan a mulish stare. “That’s not a slur or anything, Kennedy. I just can’t imagine who else would want that many text messages from you.”

“That’s an okay chirp. I’ll accept that,” Ethan said, pushing his glass back over at Riley. “Riley?”

“What?” Riley asked as he picked up his empty glass. “He’s right. You do send me a lot of text messages.”

“Usually about Halley and how he won’t turn the volume down on that stupid game. We create our own problems.”

“Looks like we solved this one,” Riley said, and they shared a grin.

Halley sighed. “I don’t like either of you enough to find you cute yet. Mostly I still think Kennedy’s a loudmouth, and… well, you’re all right, Hunter. When you’re not being a goalie. I hate you during shooting drills.”

“So everything’s good, then,” Ethan said, all energy, shoving at Riley. “Cheeseburger. Remember?”

“Go order one,” Riley said. He slid out of the booth to give Ethan room. “I’ll be there in a sec. And if you want cheese fries, this time get the sauce on the side.”

Ethan muttered something like “buzzkill” and ambled off to the bar to order. Riley turned to Halley again and held out his hand. “Let’s get over it. And Ethan’s right. You do telegraph your moves when you overthink them.”

Halley rolled his eyes, but he shook Riley’s hand easily enough. “Don’t let me score or anything. That’d just piss me off.”

Riley didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. He’d never let anyone score on him. Ever. “See you at practice, Halley.”

Halley went back to his book, and Riley found Ethan ordering lunch and flirting with the bartender. They took their food to go, because Riley was convinced Ethan would insist they have lunch with Halley, and he wasn’t in the mood. Besides, Halley was a quiet guy—more like Riley than Ethan. He probably didn’t want any company. But Riley knew that wouldn’t occur to Ethan if he’d decided they should have lunch together.

“Why’d you do that?” Ethan asked him in the car on the way back to the apartment. “Go over and talk to him, I mean.”

Riley grabbed Ethan’s wrist to stop him from changing the radio station for the six-thousandth time since they left Cruisers—which was two minutes before. “I don’t want to lose because Halley’s got a chip on his shoulder that he’s not Lane.”

“So it was all about hockey?” Ethan rolled the window down, reached into his pocket, sighed, and rolled it back up. Riley had, in yet another attempt to make Ethan stop smoking, told him he wasn’t allowed to do it in the car. “Fuck. I hate not smoking.”

“Yeah, actually,” Riley said. “I don’t have to be friends with him. I just don’t want there to be some sort of problem that fucks up our game. If it weren’t for that, I’d just ignore him.”

“I wish I knew how to do that,” Ethan said, shaking his head ruefully.

Riley thought about Ethan’s family, about his mother dragging Ethan out onto the fire escape over Christmas and telling him about his father, about Ethan standing up for Courtnall, about Ethan throwing his gloves off for teammates who couldn’t do it for themselves.

“I don’t,” Riley said, and leaned over to kiss him.

Ethan kissed him back, looking surprised but pleased, and Riley let him change the station again. He still didn’t let him smoke, though.