Barrett laughed. Ryan cleared his throat, and Kent finally looked up.
“Oh. Hey.” There was a bit of a sneer in Kent’s tone.
“Hi,” Ryan said stupidly. He thrust his hand out. “I’m Ryan.”
Kent stared at Ryan’s hand, then shot a look at Barrett. Finally, he quickly shook Ryan’s hand and said, “I thought you went crazy.”
“No,” Ryan said, heat rising in his cheeks and down his neck. “I have it under control.”
Barrett snorted. Kent looked at Ryan like he was a pile of dead snakes. “I fucking hope so, Red.”
Ryan’s jaw clenched. That wasnota name he was going to answer to.
“Ryan,” he corrected him. He straightened his spine, rolling his shoulders back to bring himself to his full height. He let just enough of the monster out to show Dallas Kent that Ryan wasn’t someone to fuck with. “NotRed.”
Kent put his hands up in a placating manner. “Whatever, man.” He turned back to Barrett and resumed his story as if Ryan wasn’t even there anymore.
Ryan felt his chest tightening as he retreated to his stall. Fortunately, he’d gotten good at talking himself down from these mild attacks.
Inhale for two, exhale for three. Inhale for three, exhale for four. Inhale for four, exhale for five...
He was okay. He was fine. Dallas Kent was clearly a fucking asshole, but Ryan was okay.
This is just a job. This is not you. You are more than this job.
Every job has shitty co-workers, right?
He counted one more breath, in and out, then started rummaging around in his gym bag, just for something to do.
“Wanna know a secret?”
Ryan was startled by the unexpected question. He turned to see Wyatt Hayes, who had been Toronto’s backup goaltender for years. “Sure?”
“Dallas Kent is,” Wyatt leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper, “a bit of a douchebag.”
Ryan sputtered, surprised. “So it’s not just me, then?”
“Hell no. But he’s the superstar, right, so what can you do?”
Ryan could think of a couple of things he’dliketo do to him.
Wyatt laughed. “Holy shit, Price. Your face! You can’t punch him!”
“I know. I wasn’t gonna.”
“Well, if you change your mind, make sure you tell me. I wanna watch.”
Ryan shook his head, but he was smiling. He decided that he liked Wyatt Hayes. So that was something.
He had thought it might be different, this season. In retrospect, he had no idea why. Since his junior hockey days, Ryan had obligingly filled the role of enforcer on any team he played for. He had never been enthusiastic about it; if he’d wanted to be a boxer, he could have followed in his father’s footsteps and been one. Ryan wanted to be a hockey player.
This past summer, after learning he had been traded yet again, Ryan had decided to throw himself into training. He’d worked on his skating, his speed, his lower body conditioning. He’d found a trainer in Buffalo, where he had still been living, and worked his ass off doing sprints, lunges, squats, and a whole nightmare of similar inhuman activities.
He’d shown up for this training camp in Toronto in the best shape of his life with the hope that he might be taken seriously as a defenseman. He would give these fitness tests everything he had, but he doubted it would change anyone’s mind about the role he would play on this new team.
God. Ryan wasn’t sure he could do this anymore. Hewould, because what else was he going to do? His résumé was pretty sparse.
“Ready to go through hell?” Wyatt asked. Ryan knew he was referring to the fitness testing, but Ryan was thinking about the whole season.
