Empty Net
© 2019 Camellia Tate. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter One
Discovering your soulmark was a big deal. There was no logic to when and where the name of your soulmate appeared. For some people, it arrived as early as nine years old. Others had to wait until they were fifteen or even sixteen. If you were lucky, the black letters would appear somewhere you could read them yourself. Otherwise, they might be on the small of your back, or hidden on the nape of your neck. Then you had to get someone else to read it for you - a doctor or a parent.
Some people chose not to know, but not many. Even if you didn’t really believe in the concept of soulmates, the curiosity was too much to override. Even if you didn’t really believe, meeting someone who matched the name written on your skin would give you a certain thrill.
Or at least, so Ryan Newell assumed. He’d never experienced it himself. Ryan didn’t have a soulmark.
It was rare. Really, really rare. It was hard to get accurate statistics. ‘The unmarked’ didn’t exactly tend to be open about it. Academics guessed that something like 0.8 percent of the population never developed a soulmark.
There were all sorts of stories about who didn’t get a soulmark. People said Jane Austen hadn’t had one. She was destined to write, not fall in love. Nikola Tesla, too, had been too busy working all the hours God sent. What use would he have had for a soulmate?
Darker theories suggested that the unmarked had something wrong with them. They were loners, mentally disturbed in some way that made them unfit for genuine human relationships. Some even believed they were cursed, or the reincarnations of people so evil they didn’t deserve the happiness of finding someone to love.
When Ryan had to think about it at all, he liked to hope that he was one of those people who had a passion that superseded finding a soulmark. Hockey was his one true love. Ryan would be too busy making a name for himself in the NHL to bother with soulmates and relationships.
Since being traded to the Madison Howlers, Ryan’s star was on the rise. The team were doing fantastically, making the playoffs two years running and getting stronger with every passing day.
Hockey was a big deal in Madison. Ryan didn’t need a soulmate when he had women throwing themselves at him in bars every night of the week.
Ryan loved it. The attention made him feel like a hero, and the sex was all the more intense because they both knew it was only ever going to be one night. Ryan had a reputation. He didn’t date, never saw the same girl twice. He was second only to James Beaumont in the number of women he’d taken to bed.
What was the point of dating, when you knew you weren’t cut out for a long-term relationship? If Ryan had been destined to find love one of these days, he’d have had a soulmark, like everyone else.
Management didn’t love Ryan’s sleeping around. There’d been a few less-than-pleasant ‘tell-all’ articles from the more unscrupulous of his one-night-stands. All they could really say was that Ryan had slept with them and never called them again. After the first five times, the press got tired of just printing the same old story.
At least, they had. Until Ryan had fucked it up. He hadn’t meant to. Ryan was going to blame it on the beer. He’d been a little drunk, and a little restless at Hugo Nilsson’s retirement party. Ryan didn’t like that the giant Swede was hanging up his skates. He’d been Ryan’s captain ever since he’d first joined the Howlers, and a key part of their success. Ryan didn’t know how anyone was going to fill those particular skates.
It hadn’t helped that fucking everyone was loved up. Nilssy and Evie had been a fixture for as long as Ryan could remember. But now they were talking about having kids, settling down. Both the Blakes - Remington and Ashbury - had arrived with new girlfriends in tow. And Connor’s girlfriend, Ashey, was always around, since she was part of the team’s PR.
Ryan had distracted himself with drinking. Which had led to wishing he had a more pleasurable distraction. There were no single women at the party. Luckily, Ryan had plenty of names and numbers that he hadn’t yet hit up.
If he’d been sober, he’d have made sure not to include his face in the nude picture he’d snapped to send to Cheryl. Ryan wasn’t usually so stupid.
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” he grumbled, sitting across from Ashley and Scott in the Howlers’ PR office. “We’re both consenting adults! It’s not like I sent it to her against her will.” In actual fact, Cheryl had practically begged to get a look at the goods. She’d been out of Madison and unable to see them in person.
“It’s just a fucking nude. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. How is this different from pro athletes doing ad campaigns for aftershave?”
The way Ashley tapped her pen against the table seemed to become more frustrated. Still, Ryan was none the wiser why this even needed a sit-down meeting.
“Except it’s not an ad campaign for aftershave. It’s a picture of your dick on the phone of someone you say consented to receiving it,” Ashley pointed out, making Ryan frown. He had messages from Cheryl pointing out just how much she was consenting. Even when he told Ashley as much, she seemed pretty unimpressed.
“It doesn’t matter, Ryan. It’s not about the truth. It’s about the fact that your fucking around is now accompanied by you sending pictures of your dick to women. You might not see the problem with it, but the brand does,” she said. Ryan almost admired her for managing not to snap it at him. She probably wanted to snap.
“Listen, Ryan,” Scott spoke up. “We get that the way the media is blowing it up isn’t true to what happened. However, Ashley’s right. The team has concerns. Your reputation is starting to come before your game.”
“That’s not fair.” Ryan did snap. He’d always put hockey first. He might go out drinking, but he was careful not to turn up hangover when he had a morning skate. He was a good player. Not the star of the team, but only because he played defense and, therefore, didn’t tend to score goals.
“Whatever shit the papers decide to print doesn’t take away from what I bring on the ice. If Coach were here, he’d back me up.” Scott and Ashley didn’t get it. They worked in PR. Of course the paper and reputation seemed more important to them.
The pen in Ashley’s hand didn’t stop tapping against the table. Ryan briefly wondered how bad it’d be if he snatched it and snapped it. Probably pretty bad. He crossed his arms across his chest so he wouldn’t be tempted. Honestly, Ryan couldn’t see what the big deal was. It was just a dick pic.
“No one’s saying your game is bad, Ryan,” Scott sighed.
“No,” Ashley agreed. “But what we are saying is that no one is talking about your game. Is that what you want to be known for? Not as a good D-man because you are but rather as a very different D-man?” Ryan would’ve almost laughed at the joke if he hadn’t felt so frustrated at the situation.
He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t care what people are talking about.” As he said them, he tried to make the words true. Caring what other people thought of you was a weakness. One Ryan had no intention of admitting to.
“All that matters is how I play, and how the Howlers get on.” That wasn’t true either. Ryan knew that, after a certain point, having a reputation with the press would make it harder for other te
ams to take him on. He’d be seen as more trouble than his skills were worth.
He exhaled hard. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he complained. “I can’t untext her.”
“No,” Ashley agreed. “You can’t take the text back. But we can manage where we take it from here.” She reached for a folder next to her. It kind of grated on Ryan that there was a whole folder about him. “First, we’ve written an apology you can issue,” she said handing him a piece of paper. Apologizing was the last thing Ryan wanted to do. Before he could object, Ashley spoke again.
“It just acknowledges that sending nudes to a stranger is a bad idea and that you’d take it back if you could. And promises not to do it again,” she explained. “Nothing too much. However, we also need to arrange some good publicity for you.”
“Promise to who?” Ryan growled. It was mostly under his breath. If he was going to apologize to anyone, it would be Cheryl. But since she’d been the one to take it to the papers, there was no chance in hell of that.
Ryan honestly didn’t get why it was anyone else’s business who he showed his dick to.
“There’s a game next week,” he pointed out. “That’s all the good publicity I need.”
Ashley honestly rolled her eyes at that. It did very little to make Ryan less annoyed. “It’s not,” she told him. “Listen, Ryan, we appreciate that it’s your body and you can do whatever you want with it. But the moment that starts to reflect badly on the team...” Her sentence trailed off there and Ashley looked at Scott, who cleared his throat.
“You do as you’re told or you are off the team,” Scott said bluntly. “I’m sorry, but we’re not here to fix disaster after disaster. Currently, you’re a disaster. If you let us do our jobs, we can turn that around. Up to you.” Except, it didn’t really sound like it was up to Ryan at all.
He wanted to get up, to storm out. He wanted to pitch a fit. Ryan hated being told what to do. He could handle it in training, or on the ice. But only because then it pushed him to be better, faster, stronger.
What Scott and Ashley wanted wasn’t to make Ryan better. They just wanted him to look a certain way. They didn’t care about his personal life, or his personality. All they cared about was image.
And yet, Ryan couldn’t fight them. Maybe he could have tried, but if what Scott said was true, then it would mean leaving the team. Hockey was Ryan’s life. He couldn’t let a stupid dick pic get in the way of that.
“Fine,” he growled, with no good grace at all. “Just tell me what you want me to do so I can get it over with.”
Ashley smiled. Ryan didn’t really feel in any way better about the situation. She then jumped to explaining to him how the so-called apology was going to go. Once he read over the statement she had prepared, it really wasn’t too bad. It didn’t apologize for anything but the outcome and the lack of planning. As far as public apologies went, Ryan probably could’ve done worse.
Then, she moved on to the second part of the folder. “I’ve signed you up to help raise money for a charity. They want to work with someone from the Howlers, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity. It’s a few events here and there, it won’t take up too much of your time.”
She pushed the paper towards him so Ryan could read about the charity himself. On top of the page, in yellow letters, it read ‘Sunshine’s Guide Dog Foundation’.
“I hope you’re not allergic,” Scott shrugged.
“If I was, would I get out of it?” Ryan asked. He doubted it. Ashley would just find a different charity. It was hardly as if there were many that would say no to one of Madison’s Howlers helping them raise funds.
He waved away any attempts to answer. “This is fine.” Ryan liked dogs. He’d never had one. Training kept him away from home too much. His neighbors growing up had owned a terrier. They’d let Ryan take it for walks when he hadn’t been busy playing hockey. He’d loved that. Even if Tosca hadn’t particularly seemed to care for him one way or the other.
“What do I have to do?”
“There’s an event this weekend, a run. We’ve entered you, the team will sponsor you. Then afterward you can give an interview as they announce you as taking on the charity, raising money for them, and so on,” Ashley explained. “Very quickly, any pictures of your dick will be replaced by cute pictures of you and a bunch of dogs. I hear they even train puppies.”
As much as he wanted to be annoyed by it, Ryan had to admit that it sounded like a good plan. Almost sickeningly good. Ryan wasn’t a monster, he didn’t object to charities. He’d donated money plenty of times. Being in the NHL meant Ryan had more money than he knew what to do with.
He’d never thought of himself as the type to take ‘cute’ pictures with puppies. On a fundamental level, something about the deception bothered him. It wasn’t something he could explain in words. Definitely not to Ashley and Scott.
“Fine,” he agreed, gathering up the notes Ashley had prepared. He’d read them later. Or, more likely, not.
“Can I go now?”
“Yes,” Scott nodded, standing up. “I know this sucks, Ryan. I’m sorry about that, but I promise if you just follow what we’ve suggested, things will clear up quickly.” For as long as he didn’t do it again, went unsaid, but Ryan felt he could still hear it.
“The time and date are in the file,” Ashley told him. “Just show up, we’ll take care of the rest.” Ryan presumed that mostly meant photographs and all the other PR stuff that Ryan just didn’t get.
“Sure thing,” Ryan agreed, with a positivity he didn’t feel. In a way, Scott was right. It did suck. Ryan doubted Scott really understood why.
Ryan knew he wasn’t a particularly great guy. After all, there had to be a reason he was nobody’s soulmate. Hockey had always been the one place where it didn’t matter what Ryan was like off the ice. His skills, speed and stamina had been enough to get him on a team, to make him a hero.
Until now.
The morning of the run was crisp and cool - perfect for a road race. As he showered and stretched, Ryan toyed with the idea of blowing the whole thing off.
He couldn’t. He’d screw the Howlers over if they lost their D-man in the middle of a season. Not to mention, Ryan lived for hockey. He didn’t know what he’d do if it got taken away from him.
So, pasting his best smile on his face, Ryan drove out to the address he’d been given.
The race’s starting point was a scene of barely-managed chaos. There were people and dogs everywhere. More than half of them were wearing buttercup yellow t-shirts emblazoned with the ‘Sunshine’s Guide Dog Foundation’ logo.
Ryan couldn’t see Scott or Ashley anywhere.
There had probably been a name and number for whoever he was supposed to report to in the dossier Ashley had given him. Ryan wouldn’t know, he hadn’t read it.
He pushed through the crowds, not sure what he was looking for. A group of college-aged girls whispered together, giggling behind their hands as Ryan passed by.
He ignored them. He ignored everyone. Until a gorgeous chocolate lab came to a dead halt right in Ryan’s path. Despite the yellow harness proclaiming him a guide dog, he didn’t seem to be leading anyone. Ryan crouched to take a hold of the dog’s collar.
Looking around, he spotted a woman with one of those canes he’d seen visually impaired people use. Even in one of the bright yellow t-shirts, Ryan could tell that she was gorgeous. Her ass filled out her navy trousers just perfectly, and her trim waist made Ryan’s mouth water.
“Hey,” Ryan called. “I think I caught your dog.”
“Seems unlikely,” the woman responded, shaking her head. It made her blonde ponytail bounce. “Dougie goes where he’s needed,” she informed him confidently. “So... are you lost? He’s very good at finding people who are lost.” It seemed kind of weird. But Ryan could hardly deny that he had been feeling lost.
She reached down to pet the dog. He moved in closer to her, bumping his head against the woman’s leg. “I’m Naomi,�
�� she introduced holding her hand out. The angle was a bit off, in a way that someone who could see Ryan would have known. But then the dog nudged her and Naomi moved her arm slightly to point more towards Ryan.
He took it. Naomi’s fingers felt light and delicate, especially when swamped by Ryan’s rather more massive hand. “Ryan,” he explained. “I wouldn’t say I was lost.” He didn’t know whether he was supposed to meet Naomi’s eyes. Presumably, she couldn’t see whether he did or not.
He glanced around the crowd. No one looked any more in charge than they had a moment ago. “I’m here to run the race,” he said. “I guess I’m probably meant to sign in, or something.” Ashley would be so angry at him if Ryan managed to run the race without his efforts being officially registered.
The idea was so funny it was almost worth doing. Maybe if it wouldn’t have lost Ryan his place on the team. “Can Dougie lead me to whoever is in charge of organizing?” he asked, tone skeptical.
“Dougie sure can,” Naomi confirmed unexpectedly. Ryan gave the dog a skeptical look. How could he possibly know who was in charge? “I’m in charge,” Naomi added drawing Ryan’s attention back to her. Ryan’s surprise was followed almost immediately by a wash of shame. Despite this being an event for a guide dog charity, he hadn’t considered that the person organizing it might be blind themselves.
The pause was clearly long enough for Naomi to register his surprise. She laughed. “I’m blind, not unable to use a computer. Or delegate. As it happens, I’ve done both,” she said. Ryan could hear the amusement in her tone. He wondered how often people underestimated her because of her disability. “You have a surname, Ryan?”
Ryan’s fingers were tingling where they’d touched Naomi’s hand. He lifted them, scratching behind the nape of his neck to try to subdue the sensation. “Newell,” he answered. “I’m being sponsored by the Madison Howlers.”
Ryan assumed Naomi would have been told about him coming, if she really was in charge. He wondered if that meant she knew why he was there. He hoped not. He wished he’d read the charity’s information a little more carefully. Or at all.
Empty Net (Madison Howlers Book 3) Page 1