Tough Guy (Game Changers)

by Rachel Reid

  “I thought I was having a heart attack. No joke. So I just...walked out.” He opened his eyes.

  “Of the building?” Fabian looked very confused.

  “Off the bench, in the middle of a game. And as soon as I was in the hall I just started tearing off my gear. Total panic. I didn’t even know what I was doing, I just knew I had to take my gear off or I was going to die. And people were yelling at me, and I didn’t even know where I was or what was happening.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I guess I ended up on the floor. Or on my knees or something. People were surrounding me and I was trying to push them away.”

  “Panic attack, right?”

  Ryan nodded. “Turns out, yeah. They got an ambulance to take me to the hospital because I kept saying I was having a heart attack. The hospital said it wasn’t my heart. Just a panic attack, they said.” He laughed humorlessly. “I was so embarrassed about it.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Fabian said angrily. “It wasn’t just anything. A panic attack is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “I get that now. I started seeing a therapist after that. I took a little break, to sort myself out a bit. I don’t think my teammates or my coaches ever looked at me the same way again, though.” He shrugged. “Then I got traded over the summer to Toronto.”

  Fabian smiled. “Well, that part worked out okay.”

  Ryan returned his smile. “Yeah. I guess it did.”

  Fabian kissed Ryan’s hand. “Do you still have panic attacks?”

  “I haven’t had another one that bad, but...yeah. Sometimes. And I can feel them lurking, y’know?”

  “I’m glad you told me. If I can do anything to help, let me know.”

  Ryan rested a palm on Fabian’s cheek. “You are helping.”

  Fabian kissed him quickly, then resumed getting dressed. When his back was turned to him, Ryan allowed himself to wince from the back pain that had been torturing him all day. He’d told Fabian that his back was healed because he didn’t want him to be upset about the fact that Ryan had been practicing and playing hockey all week.

  The fact was, his back still felt pretty terrible. He’d been getting physio for it, and massages, so it was loosening up a bit, but the team doctor had also been supplying him with painkillers that made it easier to play. Fabian didn’t need to know any of this.

  Just like Fabian hadn’t needed to know about that panic attack. Ryan wished no one had told him; it would only strengthen his belief that Ryan should quit hockey. He didn’t outright say it, but Ryan knew it was how he felt.

  But Ryan was managing both the anxiety and the back pain just fine. He couldn’t expect Fabian to understand the demands of professional hockey.

  * * *

  Fabian wasn’t stupid.

  He knew Ryan’s back was still bothering him. It was possibly worse now than it had been at Christmas. He saw how Ryan was trying to hide it, with slow, careful movements and with transparent reasons not to do things. Fabian had no idea how he was able to play hockey in his condition.

  Which was exactly what Fabian intended to find out by watching this game.

  Ryan was out of town, playing against Philadelphia. Fabian was at the same sports bar he’d been at with Tarek last time, but tonight he was accompanied by Marcus.

  “So, that’s your boyfriend,” Marcus said. He and Fabian were both watching the giant television screen, where Ryan had done something in front of the net that seemed to require many slow-motion replays.

  “Yes,” Fabian said.

  “That guy. On the television. Playing hockey. He’s your boyfriend.”

  Fabian sighed. “Are we still not over this?”

  “Just making sure.” Marcus grinned and took a sip of his gin and tonic.

  The game had not been particularly interesting, except for the fact that Ryan seemed to be much more physically comfortable playing a very rough sport on skates than he was when Fabian watched him, for example, take a carton of milk out of the fridge.

  Whenever Ryan wasn’t on the ice, Fabian and Marcus chatted. He hadn’t hung out with just Marcus in a while. Whenever Ryan was on the ice, Fabian watched him like a hawk.

  “He looks healthy,” Marcus remarked. “I definitely wouldn’t guess he’s in pain.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. I know he’s hiding it from me. I can see him wincing when he thinks I’m not watching when we’re together.”

  “God, he’s huge,” Marcus sighed. “I’m so fucking jealous.”

  “The pads make him look bigger,” Fabian said weakly.

  It was weird, watching Ryan use his size to intimidate. There was a scuffle behind the net after the play stopped and Ryan was looming over a player on the opposing team. He couldn’t see Ryan’s face, but he could see the fear in the other player’s eyes, even as he bumped up against Ryan and yelled something at him.

  “Are they going to fight?” Marcus asked. He seemed a little too excited about the idea.

  God, Fabian hoped not. “I hate this,” he said.

  “What? Ryan lying?”

  “Yes. And him looking like that.” He gestured toward the television, where the new camera angle showed Ryan glaring menacingly at his opponent. Fabian sighed. “And Ryan playing hockey, if I’m being honest.”

  Marcus frowned at him. “Maybe you shouldn’t be dating a hockey player, then?”

  Fabian watched as Ryan—thankfully—skated back to his bench instead of fighting. “He’s not just a hockey player.”

  “But he is a hockey player.”

  “Yes, I know that, thanks,” Fabian snapped. He sighed. “Sorry.”

  “You can’t ask him to quit, Fabian. That’s not fair.”

  “I know. And I would never do that except...” Marcus raised his eyebrows. Fabian looked at the table. “It’s not just that I hate hockey. Obviously I can’t ask Ryan to give up hockey because I don’t like it. I’m not that selfish. But I don’t think Ryan likes it either. I mean, he’s basically told me that. And it’s destroying his body, and it makes him miserable. He’s so sweet and he deserves so much better than this.”

  “But he needs to make that decision. Not you,” Marcus argued.

  Fabian nodded. “I know. It’s just hard, seeing him in pain and not letting himself heal. It’s...scary.”

  Marcus looked at him sympathetically. “You can tell him how you feel, but you need to be careful, okay? No ultimatums.”

  “Of course not.” Fabian wondered if he could bring any of this up with Ryan.

  He wondered if he could stay with Ryan if he didn’t.

  * * *

  Three days later, Fabian sat on Ryan’s bed, holding a well-loved copy of Anne of Green Gables. “Do you always bring this with you?”

  “Whenever I fly somewhere, yeah.”

  “Why?”

  Ryan shrugged and pulled some rumpled-looking clothing out of his travel bag. “For comfort. Mom used to read that book to Colleen when we were kids, and I would always listen in. Then I read it to Colleen myself. It’s always kinda been our thing.”

  “So it’s like an anchor? Something you can focus on when you’re scared?”

  “I guess.”

  Fabian handed it to Ryan, who placed it back in the bag. “How’s your back?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “Is it?”

  Ryan looked confused. “I told you it’s better, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” Fabian said pointedly. “You did.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Fabian stood. “You’ve been lying to me.”

  Ryan’s eyebrows shot up. “Lying?”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Serious about what?”

  “About thinking I don’t know! It’s obvious your back hasn’t healed.”

  “It’s
not that bad,” Ryan grumbled.

  Fabian felt like he might explode. “Don’t play tomorrow night.”

  Ryan stared at him like he had no idea what Fabian could possibly be concerned about. “Of course I’m playing. I have to.”

  “Your back is still completely fucked!”

  “My back is always fucked. It’s just more fucked than usual right now.”

  “You can’t play hockey like this.”

  Ryan snorted. “You’re the expert.”

  Fabian rounded the bed and stood in front of him, fists clenched at his sides. “Really? That’s how you’re going to play this? Your sissy boyfriend doesn’t know anything about sports, so he’s stupid to be concerned about your health?”

  Ryan narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t call yourself that.”

  “Don’t play hockey when you’re hurt.”

  Ryan’s face softened, which only made Fabian madder because now it looked like Ryan was amused by how stupid he was being. “It will be fine. It’s been fine. The doctor gives me something for the pain.”

  Excuse me? “Gives you something? Gives you what?”

  “Toradol,” Ryan mumbled.

  “Great. So you’ll just swallow some pills and go get knocked around the ice for a couple of hours?”

  Ryan looked away. “It’s not a pill. It’s a shot.”

  Fabian threw his hands up. “Great! Awesome! So your doctor shoots you up full of drugs. And then what? What happens when the shot wears off?”

  “They give me some pills.”

  Fabian’s jaw dropped. “Jesus Christ. You don’t see a problem with that?”

  “I’m careful. I’m not going to develop a problem, or whatever you’re thinking.”

  “Why can’t you just let yourself heal? Why is that so terrible?”

  “It’s just not what we do, okay? If there’s any chance I can play, I play.”

  “And if you play, you fight, I guess,” Fabian said, glancing at Ryan’s freshly bruised knuckles.

  Ryan’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, I fight.”

  “I thought you were done fighting.”

  “I can’t just stop fighting, Fabian.”

  “It’s not your choice?”

  Ryan huffed. “I’m a hockey player. Nothing is my choice.”

  Fabian’s heart broke a little at those words. His throat was tight when he said, “Why do you even play hockey still? It makes no sense.”

  Ryan turned away. “This is stupid.” He left the room, and Fabian stormed after him. When he caught up to him, Ryan turned and said, “I figured this was coming. I was waiting for it. You want me to quit so you don’t have to date a hockey player, right?”

  Fabian’s jaw dropped. “This has nothing to do with me. Hockey is destroying you, Ryan. Can’t you see that?”

  “Hockey is all I am!” Ryan shouted back. It was the loudest Fabian had ever heard him speak, and it startled him.

  “No,” he said gently. “You’re so much more. Please don’t say that.”

  “Why not? It’s true. I’m not walking away from an NHL career, Fabian. I’m not that stupid.”

  “I told you about the symphony,” Fabian argued.

  Fabian hated how bitter Ryan’s answering laugh was. “Yeah. But guess what? I can’t quit the NHL and become an independent hockey player. So I’m glad you got to do music your way, but I don’t have that option.”

  “You could do something else.”

  “Like what? What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

  “Anything you want!” Fabian practically screamed.

  Ryan rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth for a moment, then exhaled and said, “You don’t understand.”

  And that was it, wasn’t it? Fabian didn’t understand hockey. Didn’t understand why Ryan would let it ruin his life if he seemingly got no joy out of it. Didn’t understand why he’d ever thought this relationship could work. “I guess I don’t.” Fabian pushed past him and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Ryan asked as Fabian shoved his feet into his sneakers.

  “Home.”

  “Why are you being like this? You know what my job is. You knew who I was when we got together.”

  Fabian swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes, I did know. I knew exactly how sweet and wonderful you are.”

  Ryan’s shoulders slumped, and his voice got quiet. “I don’t know why you do that. You seem to think I’m better than I actually am. I can’t be the person you have in your head.”

  “You are the person I have in my head. In my heart.” Fabian was crying now. Damn it. “That’s why I can’t watch you hurt yourself. Or anyone else.”

  One of Ryan’s giant hands landed on Fabian’s shoulder. Hands that would be used to punch someone later that week, no doubt. “I’m sorry.”

  It wasn’t what Fabian wanted to hear. He could tell it was the kind of apology that meant I’m sorry I can’t be better, not I’m sorry, I’ll try to do better. If Fabian stayed, nothing would change. Walking out the door right now might break his heart, but not as much as watching Ryan destroying himself would.

  “I can’t do this,” he said in a tiny voice. “I thought I could, but I can’t. You’re right, I don’t understand.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I just don’t. I never will.”

  “Don’t.” Ryan was crying now too, which Fabian couldn’t stand to see. He turned toward the door. “Please.”

  Fabian turned back. He really wanted to wrap Ryan in his arms and tell him he was sorry. That he would stay. That he could overlook everything and be his boyfriend. But he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

  So he said, “Take care of yourself, Ryan Price.” And then he left.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The next two weeks were total misery for Ryan.

  The flights, which would have been difficult anyway without Wyatt, were absolutely harrowing. It was all Ryan could do to force himself to board each plane. When he was on board, he sat alone near the back and hyperventilated. By the third flight, he asked the team doctor to give him something extra to help him calm down. The pills didn’t cure his anxiety, but they made him drowsy and downgraded his panic to a manageable level.

  Despite what he had promised Fabian during their fight, Ryan could feel himself developing a dependence on drugs. He was in so much pain all the time, and the relief that came from a Toradol shot was heady. The pills he took after the game helped keep the excruciation of the aftermath of playing with an injury to a minimum.

  He’d also started asking for sleeping pills. Every second he wasn’t focused on his back pain, he was overcome by the agony of his shattered heart.

  The hardest part was knowing that Fabian had been absolutely right. Every word had been the truth. And because of that, Ryan knew he shouldn’t try to contact him. Just as Ryan had always believed, Fabian deserved so much better than him.

  He knew Fabian was playing shows. He knew his album release show was coming up next week, but Ryan wouldn’t dare go. The best thing either of them could do was forget this entire stupid relationship.

  Like all NHL teams, the Guardians had a week off either before or after the NHL All-Star weekend. This year the Guardians had theirs the week before. Ryan tried not to think about how wonderful it would have been to spend it with Fabian. Instead, he holed up in his apartment and focused on healing his back.

  On Wednesday, Ryan was woken by a phone call from Wyatt.

  “Hey, Pricey. How’s vacation?”

  “It’s okay. Quiet.” Ryan’s head felt a little thick. He’d taken a sleeping pill late last night and the effects hadn’t quite worn off.

  “I’m just calling because I wanted you to hear this from a friend before you heard it somewhere else.”

  Ryan blinked. “Did you get traded again?”
/>
  “No. It’s about Duncan Harvey.”

  “Harvey? What about him?”

  He heard Wyatt exhale and then say, “He died. They found him yesterday. At home. It looks like suicide by overdose.”

  Ryan sat up. “What?”

  “I know. It’s awful. It’ll be all over the news today.”

  Ryan was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. “Is there a funeral?”

  “No details yet, but I imagine it will be in his hometown. He’s an Ontario farmboy, but I forget the town. I’m in the Bahamas with Lisa right now, otherwise I’d try to go.”

  “Yeah.” Ryan wished he could will away the effects of that pill. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around any of this.

  “I’m sorry to have to give you this news. Will you be okay? Is your, um, boyfriend—?”

  “I’m fine,” Ryan said quickly, not wanting Wyatt to mention Fabian even in vague terms. “Thanks for calling. I appreciate it.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Ryan was so far from all right it wasn’t funny. “Yeah. I’ll look into the funeral. Have fun on the beach, okay?”

  “Sure. But, y’know, call me if you need to.”

  God, Ryan missed Wyatt. “I will. Thanks.”

  They said their goodbyes and Ryan hauled himself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, where he immediately turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it.

  Okay. He would find out when and where the funeral would be held, and he would drive there. That was something he could do. It was the least that he could do. Hopefully a lot of NHL players would do the same.

  He couldn’t help but replay their last fight—or, more accurately, their non-fight—as he showered. Was Ryan partially to blame for what had happened to Duncan? Had his refusal to fight him pushed him closer to the edge?

  He couldn’t let himself think these things.

  When he stepped out of the shower, his head felt clearer and he realized his back wasn’t bothering him as much. It seemed that actually taking the time to rest and heal was indeed effective.