Brody had been in California for the entirety of Ramsey’s injured reserve stint, but unsurprisingly, he’d been as involved as possible. He was the one who’d come to Ramsey and suggested the GyroStim that had saved Sidney Crosby’s career.
Even found the closest one to Buffalo, that just happened to be in a hospital in Toronto. “And,” Brody had said, “you’re already there most of the time, so it works out.”
At that point, he hadn’t told Brody that he’d been crashing in Wes’ guest room, not wanting to worry him, but then he shouldn’t have been surprised either that his two best friends had been talking about him behind his back.
“Maybe?” Brody prompted.
“You know what I’m saying.” Ramsey didn’t want to say it so bluntly.
“Yeah,” Brody said. He’d been a hockey player. He knew how superstition was baked into hockey DNA. “But God, that’s so great. I’m so happy for you.”
“Well, I’m not sure yet. But things are promising.”
“When are you getting back on the ice?” Brody asked.
“Not sure yet, but hopefully soon. Maybe in the next week or so? Balance is so much better,” Ramsey admitted. “But the Wolves want me to stay up here, and keep using the GyroStim, so they’ve been talking to the Leafs about letting me use their practice facility during off-hours.”
“And,” Brody added slyly, “I bet you’re wanting to stay up in Toronto anyway.”
“Brods,” Ramsey warned.
“You can’t tell me that’s not part of it.”
“I want to play hockey again.”
“Well, no shit, of course you do.”
“That’s all I’m saying,” Ramsey said.
“And allI’msaying is that you’re probably extra motivated.”
Ramsey sighed. “I thought you didn’t think I was legit interested in Nate.”
“Oh, is that his name?” Brody asked innocently. “Are you telling me about him now?”
“Dick,” Ramsey hissed.
But Brody just laughed. “How’d you meet him?”
For a split second, Ramsey wanted to tell Brody the whole truth. He’d not even been tempted to tell Wes—probably because Wes was too close to the whole situation—but he felt a nearly impossibly huge yearning to be honest withsomeoneabout it. Someone who’d understand. Who’d make all the right sympathetic noises and then kick his ass from here to Buffalo about it.
The only person who could do that would be Brody. But he knew Brody and Wes talked, specifically and mostly abouthim,which was a situation he was only tolerating, and if he told Brody, Wes would eventually find out and then kick ass in a way he didn’t need.
“At the bar,” Ramsey said vaguely. Thatwastrue.
“Wes said he didn’t like you on sight. That ever happened to you before?”
Ramsey laughed because what else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t say,actually, he liked me too much. But more than that, he saw right through me.
“Oh, sure,” Ramsey said lightly, though he wasn’t sure thathadhappened before.
“Bullshit,” Brody said. “You wrap everyone around your little spider fingers. It’s what you’re best at. Weaving the right web, at the right time, for the right person.”
Most of the time Ramsey was grateful for his skills, but when he contemplated how hard he’d worked to try to get Nate to ease up, he only felt a deep-seated frustration.
“Well, it didn’t work on him. Hasn’t worked on him,” Ramsey said.
The only thought that eased it was flashes of memory from last night. Nate smiling as he added too much sushi to the online order. Nate and him on the couch, holding hands. Nate teasing him, more gently than normal. Nate actually listening when Ramsey talked about hockey.
