11. Riley #3
“We’ll play for ten minutes this time,” said Coach Sullivan.
“And those ten minutes will be tough, but we’re not here to humiliate you.
Your coaches want you to have a taste of what it feels like to play against guys who have been in the NHL for years.
Our rookies aside, we have guys here today who have made names for themselves and won trophies and cups.
So, learn as much as you can from them, because you never know when you might get a call to be on a Citadel line.
We’re fostering future teamwork here, boys. ”
The air felt electric as Banner took position for the puck drop, and Riley forced himself to breathe when Sullivan gestured him forward with a curt wave.
“What were you and Sloan chatting about?” Banner asked him, smirking.
Riley bent low, clocking Sloan’s location just in case a miracle occurred and he won the face-off. “None of your damn business.”
The puck touched the ice, and Banner flicked it out of the way like Riley knew he would. Face-offs were one of Banner’s specialties, which was impressive for a rookie.
Ten minutes felt like ten hours as Riley tried, and failed, to establish any control of the puck. Both the Admiral and Citadel goalies were fighting for their lives as pucks hit them from all sides, filling the rink with loud thumps and curses as the game continued.
The only time the Admirals had any success was when Riley and Sloan were playing together, but then Carr, Banner, or both would follow and squash any chance they had to score.
Riley felt like he was moving upriver without a paddle, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t having the time of his life. And for the first time since Sloan arrived, they were finally communicating.
It wasn’t the same as having Jake. It could never be the same as having Jake controlling plays from the center, but they were getting somewhere.
The score was twelve to zero because the Citadels had torn the Admiral goalie’s confidence to shreds, but all they needed was one goal. One goal, and Riley would go to sleep later still crying, but happy after getting his ass handed to him.
He didn’t think it was going to happen, but then Sloan sent Riley a backhand pass without looking his way, and instinct drove him to slap it between the Citadel goalie’s legs before he had time to drop to the ice.
The goddamn puck went in, and Riley stupidly threw his stick in the air as he was tackled by his screaming teammates, their laughter exploding when the stick came back down and hit their helmets.
The Citadel players joined in, and someone knocked Riley’s helmet off with an aggressive ruffle that left him staggering. It was only one goal, and the Admirals were about to lose the game, but it still felt like a win.
“You fucking beauty!”
Riley didn’t have time to duck out of the way when Sloan wrapped his arm around his neck and dragged him in for a kiss on the cheek.
“I didn’t think you were going to catch that pass!”
Riley wrestled Sloan’s arm away from his neck before he ended up pulling him off his skates. “I didn’t think I was going to either, but that was awesome.”
A whistle blew, and the celebration pile slowly dispersed to make room for Sullivan and the other coaches. She smiled and clapped her hands, looking pleased as punch as her gaze swept over them.
“I think that’s a good high note to end the game on. We’ll let you guys take a break and then work through a few easy drills to cool down before it’s time to hit the showers.”
Riley was on board with this plan. It was a short practice, but his body would appreciate the extra rest before his game later that night.
The Admirals would be sluggish after the effort they put in today, but the experience they gained would help them in the long run.
Sloan didn’t skulk away like he usually did, and instead chose to do passing drills with Riley for the duration of their practice. Now that the excitement had faded, Sloan was less chatty with him, but he could admit that they weren’t the worst match-up in the history of the universe.
A glimmer of trust had been forged between them, and although Sloan was still a prick, he was less aggravating when he wasn’t starting a fight over every tiny grievance he had.
When the whistle blew and they were allowed off the ice, Riley trudged to the locker room, soaked in sweat and bruised in places he didn’t think possible. Carr had the decency to shoot him apologetic frowns as Riley pulled his clothes off, revealing a lot of areas with purple and red skin.
Sloan had fared no better, and he had a nice scratch on his chin from where his head had bounced off the glass, but he appeared unbothered by his condition.
“Sorry about the rough play,” Banner muttered, so quietly that Riley almost missed it over the locker room chatter. “We’ll go easier next time.”
Carr scoffed and rolled his eyes, as if Banner’s suggestion was ridiculous. “It worked, didn’t it? Come on, Hulk, there’s a shower calling our names.”
Riley watched the Citadel player wrap a towel around his hips before sauntering toward the showers. Something about Carr was familiar, like Riley was expecting him to be friendlier, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Riley shoved his slides on and limped his way to the shower, silently cursing his tender hip that he knew would be an issue for his game that night. It was only bruised, but if he took one hit during the game, it would sting like a sonofabitch.
“You good?”
Riley groaned and turned the water on, hanging his towel before he stepped under the hot spray. Normally, he didn’t care about the lack of stalls in the shower room, but Sloan had never taken the spot beside him on purpose either.
“I’m fine,” said Riley. “I don’t know why you’re asking when you got just as fucked up as me.”
The silence was new, too. Riley wasn’t used to his teammates walking past him without friendly taps and smacks, but having Sloan so close was acting like a repellent.
He opened one eye and glanced at Sloan to make sure he was still there, and found the guy staring at him with a weird expression on his face.
Was he…worried?
Nope. No way.
“I’m used to getting shoved around—and shoving others around,” said Sloan. “You’re all about speed and stickwork, so I rarely see you take hits like that.”
Riley couldn’t stop his brows from pinching together. “I thought you said I had shitty stickwork?”
He braced for the insult, but was unprepared when Sloan lifted his arm and deflected water at his face.
Sputtering, Riley shook his head and ignored Sloan for the rest of his five-minute scrub down. Knowing he had to go to his apartment and still be around Sloan made the decision to visit Jake and Allen easy.
Riley didn’t pause to put clothes on when he went back to the locker room and grabbed his phone, eager to text his two idiots. He couldn’t stay long because of the random team lunch, but even an hour to decompress with his favourite people would be enough.
But when he saw a missed call from his agent on the phone, thoughts of hanging out with Allen and Jake had to be pushed aside.
Feeling sick to his stomach, Riley called his agent’s number and held his breath.
Thirty minutes later, Riley was dressed and sitting at a table in a room beside Sloan while Mr. Valero and his co-owner, Mr. Ansari, studied them. They were joined by the Admiral GM, Mr. Kanto, and the head coaches from both teams.
“Your agents talked you through the offers?” Mr. Valero asked them.
They nodded since neither of them could form words.
“This will officially give the Citadels the youngest roster in the league,” said Mr. Ansari, sounding giddy despite the tension in the room. “The youngest players on the youngest team. Now that’s a story we can build some excitement on.”
Mr. Valero’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile, but then thought better of it. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself just yet. They need to earn ice time, remember?”
Mr. Ansari waved him off. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Everett.
You saw them play today.” He leaned forward, grinning broadly at Sloan first, and then Riley.
“It’s a little unconventional to call the two of you in here instead of meeting one-on-one, but we were hoping this would solidify what we expect from you.
Mr. Kanto informed us that you guys don’t play nice, but we saw what you can accomplish when you try, and you’ve both been impressive in other areas that we’re focusing on. ”
Mr. Valero nodded in agreement with his co-owner.
“Outstanding stats, and one will bring grit while the other will bring hometown pride. I know you’re aware we were considering you because we’ve been in contact with your agents, but we were hesitant to make an official offer because of the attitude adjustments that needed to happen before the trade deadline. ”
Attitude adjustments? Riley knew Sloan was an issue, but the way Jake’s father looked at him while he said it made him think he was missing something.
As if reading his mind, Mr. Valero smiled softly. “Evans, you play like you don’t want to win. You’re coasting through every game, and you don’t fight when you know you could be the game changer.”
Riley cringed, his cheeks burning like someone had pressed a hot brand to them. He hadn’t realized anyone had noticed his lack of enthusiasm, but leave it to Jake’s father to read him like an open book.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fight, but for a while now he figured if he was never going to be a Jett Killinger or Etienne Leroux, why bother?