“You could spend the night,” he suggests as he begins to drive off. He waits until we round the corner to put his headlights on.
“Oh, could, I? Because that wouldn’t raise any alarm bells or anything. Mules rookie goes missing from captain’s house only to be found in bed a few miles away with Mules star forward Ryan Christianson. Yeah. That’ll go over really well.”
“I love that in this scenario, this is headline-worthy news.”
I intensely stare at the side of his handsome face while he focuses on the road. “Isn’t it, though? Do you not remember what the press did to Gavin and Connor?”
“Yeah, but…” Ryan tips his head. “They were fucking all up and down the Olympic Village.”
“According to Ander, they were always just in their room.”
He gives me a quick look. “My point is, they weren’t exactly subtle,” he says, then looks back towards to the road.
“Which, again, is why I’m insisting that we be careful.”
“And all I’m saying is that you’re not a kid anymore. Let alone one of Danton’s kids. You can come and go as you please. No one is stopping you.”
“Easy for you to say,” I grumble as my phone starts ringing in my pocket. I blindly pull it out and shake it at him. “See. That’s probably Danton right now wondering where I disappeared to.”
Ryan flashes me another look. “Again. He’s not your dad. You can come and go as you please.”
Still focusing my glare on him, I swipe to answer the phone. “I’ll be home shortly,” I say. “I ran out to grab a drink with Ryan.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Ryan laughs.
“Good to know you and Ryan are getting along,” my brother says on the other end of the call.
Fuck. This is worse than Danton.
“Oh, shit. Hi, Ander. What’s up?” I shift to sit properly in my seat and look out the front window. It’s a bit late for him to be calling me. Especially since Buffalo is an hour ahead.
“Not much,” he says. “Just got home from my game.”
Right. I watched them absolutely shit pump the Boston Bruisers for the second time before I texted Ryan to come pick me up.
“That was a good game,” I tell him. They’re probably going to sweep their first round.
“You watched?” he asks.
“Obviously,” I say, annoyed with him questioning me. He’s my brother. Of course I watched his game. I try to watch all of his games; he does the same with mine.
“Hey, since you’re with Ryan, put me on speaker.”
“Why?”My face scrunches up.
“So I can say hi to Ryan,” he says, like this should have been obvious. Which, okay, fair.
I switch it. “Okay, Mr. Social. You’re set.”
“Ryan! That wraparound goal you made against Winnipeg. That shit’s not fair,” Ander says; he sounds like he’s in awe. Like he’s the one talking to a Stanley Cup champ and not the other way around.
“It’s totally fair,” Ryan says, laughing.
“I mean, sure. But still. You keep that up and every goalie in the league besides Ivanov is going to put a bounty on your head.”
“I’m not the first person in the league to score that way,” Ryan says. “It happens all the time.”
“Not all the time,” Ander says. “I’ve never let one of those through.”
