Page 33 of Bro Code

“Oh.” Riley blinked, frowning. “Okay…”

“Because if I hadn’t seen that – like if you guys hadn’t done it first – I don’t think I would’ve done it, and I would still be…well, yeah.”

Riley nodded. “Sure. Yeah.”

“Because I used to watch you guys all the time – like coming up, in juniors – and you were always such an inspiration, and so when I found out that you were gay, it was like, ‘Wow! These guys too!’” He nodded, swallowing, his bright eyes looking fiercely into Riley’s. “So, thanks.”

Not knowing quite what to say, Riley went with, “Sure. Yeah, hey no problem,” and then stood a little awkwardly as the two of them kind of chuckled and looked away.

“Oh, and hey–” Elliot paused as he turned to go. “Like I said on the ice: don’t worry about Reef.”

“Reef?”

“Okafor – he bodied you in the second period? He’s an asshole. We all hate him. Maybe he’s gonna trade, we don’t know – I think Tampa’s trying to offload him. But he’s not worth your time. Don’t let him get in your head.”

Too late. But Riley nodded, shaking Elliot’s hand again. “Right. Totally. Thanks.”

He watched Elliot scoop up his duffel bag and head out to his car, throwing a wave and another smile over his shoulder as he went. Riley returned the wave and did his best with the smile. But inside, his stomach was in knots.

Kids were looking up to him? Rodriguez looked up to him? The guy pundits were already calling the next NHL legend was looking up to Riley Webb? If Rodriguez was hoping that would make Riley feel good, he was dead wrong.

How the fuck was he supposed to set a good example if he couldn’t even play?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Louis

After three days in Alaska and a whirlwind trip to Tampa, it was a relief to step into bull pen back in Montreal on Tuesday morning. He was the first one there, and he stood for a moment, relishing the quiet, before he flipped on the lights and sat down at his computer.

Riley’s first game had not gone well. Louis had reams and reams of data to process so Holly could figure out why. They hadn’t been able to point to anything conclusive about a labrum tear, so now she was looking for a different injury. Louis was beginning to wonder if she was perhaps missing the obvious.

He’d been looking at the data from New York that he pulled before Riley traded. It showed that Riley had a lot less trouble during preseason training. Which suggested to Louis that it wasn’t an injury. If it was, wouldn’t it show up the same everywhere?

Then there was the whole conversation with Riley in the boat: about how he felt like he was the only one sticking his neck out. Didn’t that seem like something that could throw off a person’s game?

He had the feeling that if he took that theory to Holly, she would throw it right back in his face. Which was fair: he was brand new and had zero experience with anatomy. And he wasn’t even sure that what he had was a theory: it was more like a hunch.

He needed data. He needed to do an analysis of his own. If he went to Holly with that, there would be no way to refute it: the data didn’t lie. So maybe he could do a little side project, looking Riley’s data. Not like he had time for a side project. But if he could take something solid to Holly, she might start seeing him as more than just ‘the data guy’. That would be good — prove his worth early on. That was the kind of thing that got you promoted.

And if he was wrong, no harm no foul. The data would tell him, and he could let it go.

His phone buzzed on the desk beside him, and he tapped the screen to read the notification. Chloé. Sighing, he checked his watch. No. He didn’t have time for that right now. He fired off a quick message saying he’d call her later, flipped the phone facedown, and went into his workday.

At lunchtime, he went down to level one to snoop around the rink. He was secretly hoping to bump into Riley – although hopefully not literally like he had that day in the lobby.

The team had cleared out for the day by the time he got down there. Being a hockey player was pretty cushy, to be honest. Come in for morning practice, and you’re done by one p.m.? And then you get to go home, and it is literally mandated that you take a nap, eat, and rest your legs? What a life!

He chuckled as he pushed the button for the elevator to go back up to the offices. That wasn’t fair: the reason they had to rest all day was because practice was so brutal. If they didn’t take naps and play Call of Duty all afternoon, they’d be physically unable to play. Which was insane. Louis had never fully appreciated what it meant to be a professional athlete until he started looking at the data.

The elevator dinged at the top and Louis stepped out into the hall. At the end of the corridor, Holly’s door was open, and he hesitated, chewing his lip. He didn’t have enough together to present her with his theory yet, but the thing Riley had said about being the only guy sticking his neck out was niggling at him.

He went down the corridor and poked his head inside, “Holly?”

She was at her desk and looked up, squinted, then pushed her glasses on top of her blonde head. “What’s up?

“Ah…I’m gay,” said Louis.

She blinked. A long moment passed. Then she said, “What?”