Chapter 15 #2
“You took him when it didn’t even make sense for you to add him to your stable. And that’s panned out, but as much because Ramsey here is maybe the smartest hockey player I’ve ever seen—certainly the most strategic—as much as he’s actually got the skill and the drive to back it up.”
Ramsey didn’t thank Rossbury for noticing both of those things, but he was thinking it.
Flushed inside at being so seen. It was a good and bad feeling.
One he was still getting used to. Brody and Wes had shown him the beginnings of it.
Nate was furthering it. But that didn’t mean Ramsey was used to it yet.
Didn’t mean that it sat easy on him. The opposite, in fact.
But he forced himself to accept it. It was different with Rossbury than it had been with Brody and Wes, who’d slid easily and eventually under his defenses, and very different than Nate, who’d bombarded them until Ramsey wanted to wave the white flag.
No, for Brock Rossbury, Ramsey was going to have to let them down out of his own accord. And he’d done a lot easier things.
“You’re not wrong, as usual,” Barty said, with a genuine smile. “Told you he was a good guy,” he added, directing that to Ramsey.
What he’d actually told Ramsey was that he’d have difficulty doing his usual running-circles-around-everyone routine with Rossbury.
They hadn’t had much interaction last season, but now that they were, Ramsey was beginning to see that for himself.
“Listen, at the end of the day, we want you to play hockey. We want you to play for us, and we want you to do it for a long time,” Rossbury said, with the air of a man who felt totally comfortable laying all his chips on the table.
Ramsey, who’d been trying to keep Nate and his inevitable geographical presence in Toronto a non-consideration during any of this, listened and didn’t think the GM was lying.
He wanted Ramsey to play hockey for Buffalo. For a long time.
And barring whatever he and Nate were doing—it was still so new it was hard to even put a name on it, to put feelings to it, though that seemed to be happening no matter how Ramsey grappled for the brakes—that was what Ramsey wanted too.
There was no reason to not say it. “That’s what I want too.”
It was all he’d wanted for so fucking long, it seemed ludicrous to prevaricate because of Nate. But no matter how ridiculous it was, there was a split second where Ramsey wanted to.
If Wes was here, he’d be making concerned faces at Ramsey from across the room. Overlaying his own past nightmare onto Ramsey and Nate. But then, that was another reason he’d made sure to take this call when Wes could not possibly overhear it.
“Good.” Rossbury nodded, expression full of pleased certainty. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. I know you’re not interested in going to Syracuse—”
“I’m not,” Ramsey said.
But Rossbury just chuckled. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised when I inherit a genius and then he tries to outsmart me. Or out-stubborn me.”
Ramsey supposed he could argue with that, but he wasn’t going to. Why would he? The guy saw him. There was nothing to do but embrace it.
Wes had always told him that someday change would come and he’d be forced to make considerations and space for that change.
“You shouldn’t be,” Barty said, laughing too, now.
“Let’s ramp up your drills. Your on-ice conditioning.
I’m going to have our staff send over more instructions to your PT.
I wouldn’t normally put more on someone without the experience, but you say Marsha has the hockey knowledge.
She’ll do. And then in a month, we’ll bring you to Buffalo.
Put you in a non-contact jersey. Try you out in a few practices. See how it goes.”
Ramsey saw the challenge for what it was. Prove it to me, Brock Rossbury was saying, and you can have everything you want.
Ramsey had never been given that chance and not gotten everything he’d wanted, and he wasn’t about to start now.
“That sounds good to me.”
Rossbury nodded, looking pleased.
Ramsey should be pleased too. And he was. This was everything he’d wanted. But there was still that stray thought. The one he kept banishing that kept coming back around, anyway.
He knew this plan would give him more time around the Leafs’ staff. Giving them an opportunity to scout him without ever letting Rossbury in on the vague possibility that kept haunting his brain. The vague possibility that kept telling him, you should stay here, in Toronto. For Nate.
It was insane, which was why Ramsey kept dismissing it. He’d never shaped his life around a man, certainly not a relationship, and he wasn’t going to start now. But if this plan of Rossbury’s gave him options, then who was Ramsey to turn his nose up at them?
That was not something Ramsey had ever done.
“I’ll have them send a new package over, in the next day or so,” Rossbury said. “You having any trouble getting ice time? Do I need to talk to the Leafs’ GM?”
Ramsey shook his head. “Nope, they’ve been great.”
“Good. Good. I wasn’t sure about you doing this rehab in Toronto but it’s worked out great. Obviously the GyroStim was there, but I think being around a good friend helped too.”
Normally, Ramsey might’ve dismissed this as ridiculous sentimentality, but being around Wes had helped. Being around Nate, also, but then Rossbury didn’t even know of his existence.
At least not yet.
Ramsey shoved that thought away, again.
“I agree,” Ramsey said.
Rossbury laughed, the sound startled out of him. “Should I record that?” he teased gently.
Barty had the nerve to also find this amusing, and normally that might put Ramsey’s back up—being the brunt of a joke—but he found that he was smiling too.
“Maybe,” he admitted.
“Next time,” Rossbury said.
And a minute later, the call that Ramsey had been hoping for and dreading in equal measures was over.
He and Barty both hung up from the video conference and less than ten seconds later, his phone rang. It was Barty, of course.
“Couldn’t have gone better,” Barty said in lieu of a greeting.
“Agreed,” Ramsey said. He hesitated though. He should tell Barty about the possibility of him staying here. From the brief conversations he’d had with Mal and Elliott, there was room on the Leafs’ roster for a good defenseman. They were wanting to trade for one before the deadline.
Ramsey could be that guy.
If he didn’t tell Barty, then Barty couldn’t even amalgamate the possibility into their future plans.
But if he told Barty, then Barty would want to know why, and he would not be convinced that Wes was enough of a motivation for Ramsey to turn his back on the team that had stuck by his side all through this concussion hell.
“Then it’s settled,” Barty said and Ramsey let out a hard breath, not contradicting him. Not sure he could. Not yet.
Nate might still get sick of him. Maybe his feelings wouldn’t deepen.
But Ramsey heard the flimsiness of both those arguments, even in his own head. Nate seemed more enamored than ever, their relationship was solid, and Ramsey could already imagine falling even deeper. Maybe he’d never been here before, but he could still recognize the landscape.
“Yeah,” Ramsey agreed. “It’s settled.”
But deep down, he wasn’t sure that was true at all.
Nate was pretty sure he’d taken leave of his senses.
Under what scenario did he think it would be a good idea to spend not only hours outside in Toronto in mid-November, but to do it on a sheet of ice, with blades strapped to his feet?
And not by himself, hoping nobody recognized him and witnessed his abject humiliation, but next to someone who was so good at this he’d made a fucking career out of it.
But Nate wanted to do it. He’d planned this. He was insane for doing it, maybe, but Ramsey made him want to do insane things. Probably because he was pretty sure he was insane about Ramsey.
“When I looked up this address, I thought I must’ve been hallucinating.”
Nate looked up from his phone where he’d been scrolling absently through Instagram to see Ramsey walking towards him with a knowing smirk on his face.
And yes, he had expected this. There was a reason he’d only sent an address and told Ramsey to dress warm.
He’d assumed that Ramsey would Ramsey and look up the address himself, but he wasn’t going to be the one to give the surprise away.
“No. You weren’t,” Nate said. He hesitated when Ramsey stopped in front of him.
Nobody would be surprised if he kissed Ramsey.
Nobody would be surprised if Ramsey kissed him back.
But they hadn’t discussed the public PDA component of their relationship.
Nate wasn’t the most recognizable professional athlete in the Toronto area, but he wasn’t undercover either.
Maybe Ramsey wouldn’t be anywhere else, but this was hockey-mad Toronto.
Especially when they were literally standing next to an ice rink and Ramsey had a hockey gear bag over one shoulder.
But Ramsey just dropped the bag, rolled his eyes, and tugged him in. The kiss wasn’t short or brief or really PG-rated.
Nate found himself sinking into it. Wishing that he hadn’t planned this date.
Admittedly, he’d already been doing that.
But right before he considered whimpering or begging, Ramsey pulled back, his blue eyes so bright. Joyful. “That,” he murmured, “was for bringing me to the outdoor rink, even though you’re going to hate every second.”
“You don’t know that,” Nate argued.
Ramsey shot him a look. “Baby, you’re gonna hate it, and it’s okay.” He dropped his voice even more. “It was still really fucking sweet.”
“Maybe I’ll be a freaking skating genius,” Nate muttered.
That seemed unlikely, but he didn’t like how everyone—not just Ramsey, but everyone—thought he was going to suck at this. He had good balance. Exceptional reflexes. He was a professional athlete for fuck’s sake. Maybe he wouldn’t be good, but he was at least going to hold his own.
“Sure,” Ramsey said. “And I’m gonna take the field and play wide receiver.”