Chapter 46 Harper #2
Finally, Kyle answered, his tone careful. “Ryan and I are spending the next couple of months coaching the national sledge hockey team at their training camp.”
The words landed like a punch to the gut. He’s leaving?
I swallowed hard, willing my voice to stay steady. “That sounds… exciting.”
But the words felt hollow, foreign in my mouth.
Nina, either sensing I needed a distraction or genuinely curious, leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Okay, I know of sledge hockey, but I don’t actually know how it works. Enlighten me.”
Kyle’s lips quirked into a grin, and for a second, the tension at the table eased.
“It’s basically hockey, played on sleds.
The players sit in them, and instead of skating, they use two sticks with picks on the ends to propel themselves across the ice.
” He lifted his hands, mimicking the movement.
“Same rules as stand-up hockey–offsides, penalties, all that–but a lot more upper body work.”
Nina’s eyes widened. “That sounds intense.”
Kyle chuckled. “It is. People think it’s just a slower version of hockey, but it’s fast. And physical. Hits still happen. Guys get chirpy. It’s legit.”
Nina nodded, clearly impressed. “Damn. I’d probably eat shit immediately.”
Kyle smirked. “Most people do their first time,” He paused, then grinned. “Including Ryan.”
That caught my attention. I blinked. “Ryan tried it?”
Kyle let out a short laugh. “Oh yeah. First time I got him in a sled, he wiped out so hard he took me down with him. Arms flailing, gear scattering across the ice. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen.” He shook his head, still grinning at the memory. “He was sore for a week.”
Nina snorted. “Please tell me there’s a video.”
Kyle laughed. “If there was, I’d have it framed.”
I forced a small smile, trying to focus on the conversation rather than the weight pressing on my chest. Ryan is leaving.
And no one had told me.
Kyle tilted his head slightly, studying me. “Ryan never told you about the work we do together?”
I shook my head, my grip tightening around my glass. “No, he didn’t.”
Kyle looked genuinely surprised. “We’ve been doing it for a couple of years now. It’s something he’s really passionate about. And he’s damn good at it.”
I blinked, trying to absorb his words, but Kyle wasn’t finished.
He leaned forward, his expression softening.
“After the accident, I wasn’t sure if hockey was going to be part of my life anymore.
I mean, it was all I’d ever done, but getting back on the ice felt impossible.
” His fingers tapped absently against the edge of his beer glass, a flicker of emotion crossing his face.
“Ryan, though…” Kyle shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Ryan wouldn’t let me give it up. He suggested I try sledge hockey. I thought he was crazy at first–how was I supposed to play hockey sitting down? But he kept pushing, kept encouraging me to give it a shot. So, I did.”
“It wasn’t easy,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “It was insanely hard. Sledge hockey is no joke. But being back on the ice, feeling like I could actually play again…” He let out a breath. “It gave me hope.”
I glanced at Nina, who was uncharacteristically quiet, her attention fixed on Kyle.
“Once I got the hang of it,” Kyle continued, “Ryan had this idea–he thought we could build something bigger. A program in my hometown, for kids who wanted to try sledge hockey. He believed there had to be others out there like me, people who just needed a chance to feel like themselves.”
My chest tightened as I listened, the pride in Kyle’s voice unmistakable.
“So, we started recruiting,” he said, his smile widening.
“We found kids who were curious, kids who’d never even heard of sledge hockey before.
And in just a couple of years, we’ve built something incredible.
We have kids driving from four hours away just to attend our training sessions.
Some of them have even made it to the national sledge hockey team. ”
“Wait,” Nina interrupted, her eyes widening. “Like… the Olympics national team?”
Kyle nodded, his grin stretching. “Yeah. Two of our kids competed internationally last year, and a few more are training for a shot at the next Paralympics. It’s unreal.”
My throat felt tight, emotions swirling in my chest.
Ryan had done all this–helped build a program that was changing lives–and I hadn’t known any of it.
Then it hit me. The text.
Last week, Ryan had sent me a message.
Ryan: I have something I’d like to talk to you and Connor about when you have a chance.
I didn’t answer him. Hadn’t thought much about it. But now… now I realized what it must’ve been about.
He wouldn’t leave without telling me–not without telling Connor, for sure.
Why hadn’t he told me about this before? Wasn’t this the kind of thing I should’ve known? Why hadn’t he shared it, especially if it meant so much to him?
I opened my mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Then it hit me again. Every time we’d talked, it was only about Connor. The little updates, the hockey school pick-ups, the schedules. Nothing else, though. Nothing about him. Nothing about Ryan.
It was always about Connor.
I felt my chest tighten with guilt, a pang of shame.
I had built these walls up so high around myself after hearing about the hit, after everything that had happened.
I thought it was easier that way–if I kept my focus on Connor and kept things surface-level, I wouldn’t have to deal with the pain, with the mess that was Ryan.
But now, it felt like I’d shut him out in more ways than one.
Of course he hadn’t told me. Why the hell would he? I hadn’t given him the time of day to explain anything. Every time he tried, I’d dismissed it, or worse–avoided it. He’d been patient, so patient with me, and I’d been too caught up in my own hurt to notice.
Kyle took another sip of his beer, his gaze steady as he looked at me. “Ryan doesn’t talk about it much because, well, that’s just him. But he’s been the heart of this program. None of it would’ve happened without him.”
I shook my head, feeling a wave of frustration rise in my chest. My mind was spinning. How could I have missed this?
Nina, sensing my struggle, leaned back and smirked at Kyle. “So, basically, Ryan’s a saint, and you’re just along for the ride?”
Kyle chuckled, grateful for the light shift in conversation. “Pretty much. I just show up and look pretty.”
Shane snorted. “Pretty? That’s pushing it, buddy.”
Laughter bubbled around the table, though the sound barely registered. My thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in the realization that there was so much about Ryan I didn’t know.
He really was a good guy. The kind of person who would sacrifice everything to help someone else–someone like Kyle–and yet I had let him go.
I’d been so caught up in the hurt from it all–the things he never told me, the way it felt like he was lying to me on purpose, which made me question everything and wavered my trust in him.
Now… hearing Kyle talk about him like that, seeing the pride in his eyes, I was starting to wonder if I had it all wrong.
How could they still be friends after everything?
How could Ryan have gone through what he did, and still built something so meaningful with Kyle?
All I had read–everything the media had spun–painted Ryan as some angry, bitter man who had destroyed his career and his relationships.
But what if I was wrong? What if there was more to him than I’d allowed myself to see?
And what if I royally fucked up by pushing him away when he needed someone the most?
I tried to shake away the thoughts, but they clung to me, swirling in my chest. The more I heard, the more confused I became. And now he was leaving.