Joe Hales rushed up the left side of the rink, looking in both directions to pass across. Finding Gerrick Polack open, Hales made the pass, and Polak sent it right back to him. Swiftly, Hales got rid of it like a hot potato to Pierre Tremblay.
Tremblay dropped the puck back to Timothée. Seeing the screen set up by Andrew Calhern, Timothée’s confidence appeared to rise. He took command of the puck with a one-hand-release backhanded toe drag followed by a fake pass pullback. He took the shot and sank it in from the short side. Seconds later, a whistle blew, and the coach dismissed practice.
Swiping his face with the sleeve of his practice sweater, Timothée skated to the lower sideline bowl where Ryker was seated, a computer bag at his feet.
“So, you worked out everything with Lesley after I left last night?” Timothée plopped in the seat in front of the agent.
“No, she fired me.”
“That wasn’t very sisterly.”
“Yeah, but it was bossly. She was doing her job, and I deserved it.”
“Did she tell your father?”
Ryker nodded. “Yep. Squealed like a pair of worn car brakes.”
“What did he say?”
“He fired me, too.”
“Man, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. He rehired me after my mom reminded him that he’d dated her while he was her agent.”
“And mama bear for the win.”
“Yeah, but I wish it hadn’t come to that. It feels like being at square one with my dad—no respect. I can only imagine the side-eyes I’m going to get from him. If I had any dignity, I’d quit, but jobs are so damn hard to come by these days.”
“You’re good at what you do. You shouldn’t give that up on account of a mistake.”
Ryker’s face hardened. “You were never a mistake. I just didn’t handle the situation correctly.”
“There’s a saying for that. ‘It is what it is ’til it ain’t what it ain’t.’ Your father loves you, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, but it’s embarrassing having my mother fight my battles.”
“Mothers instinctively protect.” Timothée gave him a tiny smile that didn’t quite mask his sadness. “She was an athlete, you said?”
“Yep.” Ryker grinned proudly. “A gymnast. She won a silver Olympic metal.”
“Well, that explains why you can flip the way you do.”
Playfully, Ryker shoved Timothée’s arm. “It was because of her that her father launched the sports agency. When he retired, my father took over as CEO.”
“How did I not know this?”
“Why would you?”
“I had people look into the agency before I signed. This wasn’t in the report. There wasn’t even an association of last names.”
Ryker only shrugged mildly. Timothée hiring investigators didn’t surprise him. “Lesley kept her three-minute ex-husband’s last name. What a jerk, but that’s another story.” He made a face. “Anyway, because there’s an abundance of girls on my mother’s side and my mother wanted to prevent her surname from dying out, I have my maternal grandmother’s maiden name. Edgar wasn’t too thrilled about it. It comes up occasionally on holidays and at family reunions.”
“You call your father by his first name?”
“He insists all his employees address him that way. He claims it makes us all equal. What a crock. Every time I ask for a raise, he pulls out the whole ‘children should be grateful’ monologue and how he had to walk the floor with me all night because I was colicky.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more forthcoming about who I am, but I didn’t want you to think I am where I am because of a family connection.”
Timothée shook his head. “I would have never thought that. When I first began playing, people accused me of buying my way in.” The sound of the gates opening and the Zamboni humming onto the ice filled the arena. “So, if you’re not fired, does that mean you’re still my agent?”
“If you want, but technically Lesley’s your agent. I’m her acting assistant—who’s on double-not-secret-at-all probation.”
Timothée frowned. “Meaning?”
“I’m to keep everything strictly professional. I know I said that before, but I will this time. Promise.”
“You’re fired.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you as an agent.”
Ryker’s head dropped, and he squeezed his eyes shut at the sharp pain in his chest. He’d blown it being reckless, and he had no one to blame but himself.
Get through this. You knew this could happen. Be professional.
He nodded. “I understand. Lesley’s great.”
“Don’t you want to know why?”
“It’s pretty obvious. I screwed up. You want and deserve someone who has scruples and respects boundaries. I took advantage of you in a vulnerable state. I’m so sorry.”
“You ninny, no.” He nudged Ryker’s knee with his shoulder. “It’s because I like you. A lot. You’re not the only one all up in the feels. I want you as my boyfriend.”
Ryker’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Of course, but I come with a stockpile of baggage. I don’t want to come between you and your family.”
“You won’t. Whatever issues I have with them, we’ll get over it. We always do. But thank you for saying that.” Ryker smiled sweetly. “And I can handle baggage as long as you don’t shut me out. I want you to allow me in the way you allow Aidan.” He wet his lower lip and glanced at the arena lights. “I’m jealous of what you two have. I want that with you.”
“You don’t have to be jealous of Aidan.”
Ryker rolled in his lips. “Rationally, I know I shouldn’t be, and I’m working on it. I’m not perfect.”
“If you were, where would that leave me?”
Squaring his shoulders, Ryker inhaled deeply. “I have to ask. Were you and Aidan ever lovers?”
“I know you won’t believe this, but Aidan’s straight.”
“But I thought he and Christophe…?”
“A couple?” Timothée nodded. “Yeah, they are. The first time Aidan falls for someone hook, line, and sinker, it’s a gay man. Go figure. So no, we’ve never been anything more than friends.”
“Now I feel dumb for asking.”
“Don’t.”
“Just promise me you’ll communicate to me what’s going on with you.”
“Promise. Anything else?”
“I still think you should go to the police, though.” He held up his hand before Timothée could protest. “But I respect any decision you make.”
“It’s not that complicated of a concept. In fact, it’s not much different than hockey regulations. Hockey is packed with executive gag orders. Take umbrage with a Tweedledee call and you’d better keep your tongue taped to the roof of your mouth. Talk shit about the refs or league and instantly get slammed with a fine, probation, or both. They don’t make any attempt to listen or rectify a situation. No, it’s just ‘sit down and shut up.’”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“Whoever said it was about being right?”
“Okay, justice, then.”
Timothée stared at his feet. “Sometimes justice is waking to greet another day.”
“I don’t believe that.” Leaning forward, he took both of Timothée’s hands in his. “Justice isn’t allowing the guilty to walk free.”
“I need you to understand. My mother wanted me to live. My silence grants me that. It also protects Javahn if he’s alive and buys him time to do whatever he needs to do.”
“The police will protect you.”
Timothée shook his head vehemently. “They can’t. It’s too convoluted. Even if they believed me, Darbonne will claim the embezzling was all Luca’s doing and he had no knowledge of it. Hockey is the one thing Luca never stole from me.”
“What if the police learn your gun is missing? How will you explain not reporting it?”
“That’s why I hired Mace. He hasn’t lost a case.”
Ryker nodded. “I don’t like it, but I stand by you.”
“There’s also the matter of my trust fund and inheritance. We won’t be able to come out publicly as a couple, at least not for the unforeseeable future. Would you be able to live that way? I know it’s a lot to ask and understand if it’s too much.”
Ryker hunched his shoulders and then let them drop. “Honestly, I don’t know, but for you, I’m willing to try. What’s most important to me is our being together. We’ll work everything else out as we go along.”
“That’s fair. I can’t ask for more than that.” Timothée lifted their hands and kissed Ryker’s knuckles. “Ryker, thank you for everything. For planning the funeral and the press releases. For being there for me and putting up with all my shit.”
“I’ll always be there for you as long as you allow me.” His voice trembled. “I know it’s soon, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”
He squeezed Ryker’s hands. “And I with you, so be sure to notify me when you arrive. I want to build a future with you. Do everything with you.”
“Not everything. The snake massage is still a no. And can we discuss this future baby daddy stuff?”
“We sure can.” He stood and smiled. “Let me grab a shower and then we can go home and discuss it. You can give me a tour of the house.”
“What house? Your house?”
“Hopefully it won’t be only my house for long. But sure. I figure you’re more familiar with the place than I am. Seems my staff allowed you to make yourself at home, so I might as well make myself home there, too. I’m still going to fire them.”
Ryker laughed. “No you’re not.”
Thank you so much for reading Penalty Kill. If your interest has been piqued in knowing Christophe’s and Aidan’s story, order OUT OF THE PENALTY BOX. But why stop there? There are other players to get to know. Check out the entire Locker Room Love series.
I hope you enjoyed Timothée’s and Ryker’s story as much as I delighted in writing it. Penalty Kill is the bare-bone knuckles of taking the largest risks in life—trusting, showing vulnerability, and loving. Just because these are alpha males does not mean their hearts aren’t fragile or that they can’t be brought to their knees. If you’re wondering what happens next in this hockey world, keep your eyes peeled for the next instalment of LOCKER ROOM LOVE, my standalone sports romance series.