By the time we land in Minneapolis a few hours later, everyone's feeling the effects of last night's loss and the early flight, although the comfortable reclining seats on the plane help, it's still going to make for a long day. We all shuffle through the hotel lobby, looking forward to getting to our rooms for a nap. In a couple of hours, we'll get together for a team lunch before the buses head out to the arena later on.
Rylan handles our check-in, passing me my keycard without so much as a glance, andthenmaking a beeline for the elevators. I trail after him, trying not to feel like a lost puppy, and as I step into the elevator I send out a silent request to the Universe for the elevatorto make it directly to our destination with no unscheduled stops between floors.
While we don't end up getting stuck, the journey stillseemsagonizing. Rylan stands in the front corner, his posture stiff, while I lean against the back wall. The space between us may as well be the Grand Canyon. A man in a suit gets on at the fourth floor, and I swear he senses the tension in the air because he lets out a noticeable sigh of relief when we exit on our floor before he does.
Our room is similar to the one in San Diego: two beds separated by a nightstand, and floor-to-ceiling windows with a desk in one corner. Rylan claims the bed furthest from the door, setting his bag down with the same careful movements he uses for everything.
"I'll take the bathroom first if that's okay?"His tone is cool and professional as if we're discussing line changes during practice.
"Yeah, sure."I try to match his tone, but my voice comes out rougher than intended. His shoulders tense—the only sign he's affected at all.
The moment the bathroom door closes, I collapse onto my bed, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. Charlie's earlier question echoes in my mind:"Different vibe than Florida, eh?"Yeah, no shit. In Florida, I was worried about getting hazed or bullied or finding slurs carved into my stall. Here, I'm trying not to jump my captain while pretending I don't notice how his t-shirt clings to his shoulders when he's stressed.
The sound of running water makes my mind drift to dangerous places.
This is going to be the longest road trip of my entire life.
The loss sits heavy in my muscles as we trudge back into the hotel after midnight. Charlie's trying to organize a group for drinks at the hotel bar, his voice carrying across the lobby."Come on, just one drink. That game was brutal, mates. We need to decompress."
A few guys peel off to join him, but all I want to do is faceplant into my mattress and forget this day ever happened. Rylanand I get into the elevator with Louis and Tanner, and even Lou'susuallychipper outlook is subdued, making the silence in the confined space thick enough to choke on. A 7-1 loss will do that to a team. Now that silence has followed us into our room.
I'm debating whether I should force myself to be social, figuring maybe a drink will help blur the edges of this awkwardness between us when Rylan's phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket, frowning at the screen. It buzzes againimmediately, and the color drains from his face.
A couple of minutes later his phone vibrates again, and I can't pretend not to notice something's up. He's gone still, and it reminds me of the calm before a big storm hits. He's gripping his phone so hard his knuckles are white.
"Do you need me to call Louis?"I askquietly, even though the last thing I want is to leave him when something'sobviouslywrong.
He shakes his head, still staring at the screen. Another buzz. His breath catches. It's such a small tell, but from someone so controlled all the time, it may as well be a scream.
"Rylan?"I take another step closer, unable to stop myself."What can I—"
"It's Wally,"he cuts me off, voice rough."From the bar back home. My dad's..."He swallows hard."He's on a bender. Talking about Nick."
The naked pain in his eyes when hefinallylooks up hits me like a bodycheck. For the first time since our night in San Diego, there's no careful distance, no captain's mask. It's just Rylan, looking lost and broken.
"I don't..." he starts, then stops, his carefully constructed walls crumbling. "I can't..."
Chapter 16
RYLAN
My hands won't stop shaking as I read Wally's latesttextin the long string of texts from the owner of the bar in town where Dad likes to drink.
Wally: He's talking about Nick again.
Wally: Trying to pick fights.
Fuck.The situation is heading downhill fast. The firsttextonly came in while we were on the bus back to the hotel. If Dad'stryingto start shit with other people already, it's going to be a rough night.
The familiar vice grip of panic tightens around my chest.Jamie'shoveringcloseenough for me to smell his post-game body wash, but not quite touching. Always so respectful of my boundaries.
My phone vibrates twice more.
Wally: He just broke a tray of glasses. Not sure it was an accident.
Wally: Had to take his keys. He's not happy.
Iclosemy eyes, drawing in a careful breath. Control. Order. I can handle this. It's what I do. What I've always done.
