Chapter 8

The night after meeting Ryan's parents, Brody was playing pool with Drew, Bax, and Tolya at an Arlington sports bar. He took his shot, missed, and stepped back for Drew, and told them about the dinner.

"Her dad asks me if I ever played football, because obviously he thinks that's the only sport worth playing." Brody shook his head. "Jesus. So there I am, trying to find a nice to way to say, no, I didn't want to play the sport that he's obsessed with."

"Did he ask you about your intentions towards his daughter?" Bax elbowed him. "Would have been my first question."

"You mean you would have let him in the door?" Drew joked and Bax laughed. "Come on, Brody. So her dad's a big football fan, so what?"

"I'm telling you guys, it was like the Twilight Zone meets Leave It to Beaver." Brody took a swig of beer and leaned his cue stick against the wall. "Her dad takes me into the den, and there's these two huge cabinets, all glass, you know?" He gestured with his hands to indicate their size. "They must have kept every single award her brothers ever got and put them in there."

"Well, is that so bad?" Drew stood back for Bax to take his turn. "I mean lots of people keep stuff like that."

"Not like this." Brody shook his head. "I mean, everything. Those participation certificates they give you when you're six years old. Box scores from the newspapers. Old jerseys and helmets."

"Could have been worse," said Bax. "Could have kept the jock straps."

They all laughed at that. Bax took his turn and stepped aside so Tolya could take his.

"And then, oh, man." Brody waited while Tolya shot. "Her dad took me upstairs to show me stuff they hadn't put downstairs. It was incredible, and I don't mean that in a good way. No parents should keep that much stuff."

Drew laughed. "You're just jealous."

"Bite me." Brody studied the table, sank his first shot and missed the next, then made room for Drew. "And her mom. Don't get me wrong, she's very sweet. Can't make spaghetti sauce worth a damn, though, and she bought the cheesecake. Anyway, she's like some kind of Stepford wife. It was all 'isn't that right, Jim?' and 'Jim doesn't like that, do you, Jim?'" He shuddered. "Very creepy.

"I tell you guys, now that I've met them, it's no wonder Ryan doesn't talk to them much. They are bizarre. Nice enough, but bizarre."

"Just think," Bax said as he lined up, "her mom probably has you lined up as a future son-in-law. Maybe they can put your awards in there, too."

"Bax, that is so not funny." Brody gave him a pained look.

"Especially since you're not likely to win any," Drew said, and laughed at Brody's glare.

"You okay?" Lara poked her head into Ryan's room. Hard, heavy music stomped out of the speakers.

"Yeah, fine. Why?" Ryan looked up from her notebook and turned the music down. While Brody was out with his teammates, she was trying to get a handle on preparing for the tour. Since coming back from dinner the night before, she'd been in a lousy mood so she hadn't even bothered working on any songs.

"How did dinner go last night?"

"Swell. They thought he was great."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

Ryan shrugged. "Better than the alternative, I guess. I should have sent him alone, I doubt they would have missed me."

Lara pushed the door open and stepped in. "It couldn't have been that bad. Did they yell at you or something?"

"No, although you should have heard them with the tour. What about your job? What about your apartment?" Ryan snorted. "I don't know why I thought I'd get anything resembling a congratulations. I seem to have a blind spot that way."

"You know it doesn't matter, Ry. You're really good at what you do. We are really good at what we do, or they wouldn't have taken us on the tour."

"I know, I know." Ryan nodded. "It was just annoying. Even a little embarrassing. I bet if one of Brody's siblings said something like that, their parents would throw a party."

"Well, that's why we have Mitch's mom." Lara grinned. "She'll throw us a party and we'll have all kinds of fun."

"Yeah, we will." Ryan forced a smile.

"Speaking of moms, I'm headed over to see mine now. Do you want to come? Female bonding time and all that?"

"No, thanks. I'm not good company right now, I don't think."

"Okay. Call me if you change your mind."

"I will, thanks."

Ryan stared at her notebook and heard Lara leave. She envied the close relationship Lara had with her mother. Ryan had never been close with her own. She shook her head, turned up her music and focused on making lists in her notebook.

On Sunday, Brody rubbed his hand over his face as he went down to get the mail that he'd forgotten the day before. It was almost lunch time, and he wondered whether Ryan had eaten. Stupid question, he thought. From what he'd learned, Ryan didn't eat on a terribly regular schedule.

"Hey, Brody."

He looked up from the mailbox. "Hi, Lara. How's it going?"

"Good, and you?"

"Not bad. Hey, Ryan told me about the tour. Congratulations. I think it's fantastic; you guys will blow them away."

"Thanks." She nodded and gave him a tentative look. "Say, do you know if anything is up with Ryan? Any problems at her parents?"

"No, why? I haven't had a chance to talk to her since then; we've been playing phone tag."

"She's in a snit. She's been listening to her angry music."

"Angry music?" He had to smile.

"The Dillinger Escape Plan, Converge, groups like that. She likes to think I don't notice, but I do." Lara made a face. "You have no idea how many times I had to listen stuff like that in high school and college after something would happen with her family."

"Is she home now?"

Lara rolled her eyes. "She was in full brooding mode when I left, with musical accompaniment, and I have no reason to think it's changed."

"I gather forewarned is forearmed?"

"I'd hate to send anyone in there unprepared."

"Much appreciated. Should I put my pads on?"

Lara laughed. "I don't think it's that bad. But listen, can I give you some advice about Ryan?"

"I'm a guy. When it comes to women, we need all the advice we can get. That's what my sister says."

Lara smiled. "Ryan keeps a lot of things to herself. I have the best-friend connection, and I know the music cues, so I know when she's upset. I gave you the heads-up this time, but I won't always be around to tell you."

"See, it's a girl thing, I knew it." He shook his head in mock frustration. "We men have no chance."

Ryan stared at the keyboard and it stared back. She hated when she was like this, so upset and frustrated that she couldn't work on her music. She'd been in a bad mood since the dinner at her parents' house. Not just because of her parents and the way they'd handed her that box, as though they wanted to erase any indication of her. Okay, she would admit she might be overreacting there, but that's what it felt like. They kept every freaking thing her brothers had ever received, but nothing she did was good enough. They reminded her of that every time she saw them, which made her wonder why she kept trying.

She'd been telling herself for so long that she didn't need or want her parents' approval, and most days she believed it. Then something would happen, and she realized she did want it, and it ticked her off.

She was also mad at Brody's reaction, or lack thereof. How could he not see how hurt she was? Because I'm such a good actress, she thought with a bitter laugh. She didn't like that either; she did not like to think she was one of those women who expected her boyfriend to read her mind. Lara would tell her just be straight with Brody, but Ryan wasn't sure what to say.

"Oh, Christ, this is useless." Ryan got up from the keyboard. The guitar had been no good either. Part of her wanted to blame her parents for this dry spell, but she wouldn't. She was letting it bother her, she told herself, and there was no one to blame for that but herself. She needed to find a way to let it go.

She turned on some music, checked the time and saw it was after noon. On cue, her stomach growled. She wandered out to the kitchen, opened a couple of cabinets and grabbed a bag of Combos. She ate a few and leaned against the counter, listening to some more of the crunching guitar chords that drove Lara crazy and wondering what to do next, when there was a knock at the door.

"Hi, Brody."

"Hey." He leaned on the doorjamb. "Is it safe to come in?"

"What do you mean?" She stepped back to let him in.

"I ran into Lara downstairs and she said you were upset."

Ryan shrugged and closed the door as he came inside.

He followed her over to the couch. "You don't know if you're upset?" He listened for a minute. "If Lara is right and the music is any indication, then I'd say you're not happy."

"I'm just not in a good mood." She sat down.

"What are you eating?" Brody snatched the bag away over her protests.

"Combos. I was hungry. They were there." She reached for the bag but he held it out of reach.

"Do you know how much salt is in this stuff?"

"So I won't have salt on my dinner. Give it back."

"I can't. I'd never forgive myself."

Ryan made a frustrated sound and slumped back on the couch. "Brody, I'm really not in the mood."

"Ryan, what's wrong?"

"Can't I just be in a bad mood?"

"Sure, but there must be a reason."

She glared at him. "If I say I got my period, will you leave me alone?"

"I have two sisters and a mom. Such things do not faze me."

Ryan dropped her face into her hands and tugged at her hair. "Oh, never mind."

"Ryan, come on." He leaned back and looked at her. "Are you not feeling well or something? You've got the tour, the dinner with your parents went well, so what is it?"

"Went well?" She stared at him. "Yeah, I guess from your standpoint, it did."

"Look, I get that your dad is totally sports-obsessed, and I gather your mom is content to go along. But so what? Did you want me to not get along with them?"

"Yes, it's fine. I did the impossible—I've finally done something they can approve of."

He smiled. "I told you I could handle parents."

"That's not the fucking point!" Ryan pushed up from the couch, missed Brody's look of surprise, and started pacing the room. "You have no idea how much effort it took for me not to walk out of that house. Do you—do you know what was in that box? The one my mom gave me?"

"No, you never told me."

"Hold on." Ryan strode into her room and came back with the box, which she opened and handed to him. "Here, go on and look."

"Okay." He flipped through the contents and while Ryan waited, her anger and tension building. Brody looked up. "These are awards you won?"

"Yes, and notice how they're in a box?"

No wonder she was upset, he thought. Brody set the box aside; he had no idea what to say.

Ryan waited for him to say something, and snapped when he didn't. "Notice how they aren't even up on a damned refrigerator, because they have nothing to do with kicking a fucking ball around? Do you know how frustrating it is to go there? I don't know why I worried about introducing you; you're an athlete."

"Look, I—"

"The next time I see them, I can guarantee my dad's going to make some smart-ass remark about how I like athletes for their money even if I don't like sports."

Brody just stared. "What are you—"

"I don't know why I go back there. I don't know why I talk to them in the first place." She threw her hands up. "When you were upstairs, did you see my room?"

"I'm not sure."

"No, you didn't, because it's a fucking office. They did that after my first semester. Any time I came back after that, I slept on the couch in the den. I moved in with a roommate the next summer. What kind of parents do that? But Evan and JT—they'll keep those rooms like shrines until the day they die."

Ryan kept talking as her throat tightened. She was too angry for tears, she told herself. "That's why I didn't tell them about the tour. It doesn't matter what I do, how well I do it, or how much money I make. It will never be good enough because I don't wear some shirt with a name and number on the back.

"This tour is the biggest thing that's happened to me, to my friends, and what do they say? Not good job, not congratulations, no." She shook her head. "That would indicate some kind of approval, and they can't do that. You know, sometimes I don't think they'd forgive me being a musician even if I had been a boy."

Brody looked at her, lost. "A boy?"

She gave a short, harsh laugh. "Why do you think I have the name Ryan? My dad was all set to name his first-born son after himself, and then I come along with the wrong plumbing. My mom finally told him some boys' names were okay for girls, and so here I am, named after Nolan Ryan and Pat Riley."

"Ryan, you're not making sense." Brody stood up. "I'm sorry that your parents don't like what you do, but you do it, and you're amazing. You all are."

"They don't just 'not like' it. They—they actively think I'm an idiot. It's so hard to get this across to you. Your family is great; picture perfect. You guys could probably rob a bank and it wouldn't shake them at all." Ryan took a breath to calm herself but it didn't work. "I bet they had a party for every graduation, and when you made it to the NHL it was the best thing ever. I tell my parents about the tour, and you saw what happened. I knew that would happen, so I told you first. I wanted to tell you first."

"I know, and I thought it was great. I told you that."

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "You were no better than they were. You had about as much enthusiasm as if I'd told you I'd bought a pair of socks. But I should have known that because you're an athlete, and obviously nothing matters more than sports."

Brody's expression darkened. "That's not fair. You know that was a rough day for me. My brother told me about his separation, and I was just back from the road trip."

"Yep, it's just like talking to my parents. Sports are the reason and excuse for everything."

For a moment, they faced each other and the silence pounded in her ears. She couldn't recall the last time she'd felt this angry and this alone.

Brody clenched his jaw and had to work it loose before he could speak. "You can't do that. You can't throw my job up at me just because you have parental issues you haven't sorted out."

"I don't need to sort anything out. It's crystal clear what they think, and what you think." She met his eyes and dared him to say otherwise.

Brody took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm leaving. I came here because I missed you, and then I saw Lara and we were both worried about you. But I guess there's nothing to worry about, if you've got it all sorted out."

"I've been doing this myself for years. I can keep doing it."

Brody strode over and grabbed his bag. "Fine, you keep doing it by yourself."

Ryan watched him go and slammed the door behind him for the minute bit of satisfaction it gave her.

Brody leaned forward on the bench and glanced up at the clock. Less than three minutes left, and they had a one-goal lead over visiting Toronto. The refs blew the play dead and everyone sat back and took a breath as the broadcast went to one final television time-out.

The coach grabbed a whiteboard with rink markings on it and outlined their next play. Brody nodded and climbed over the boards with his teammates. Mark was out on defense and even though the draw was in the Toronto zone, the Caps' goalie was focused on the play.

The puck dropped and the players scrambled for it; the puck scuttled into open ice. Brody darted down to grab it and flung it across the ice to Mark, who collected it at the blue line and waited for a clear passing lane to open so they could execute the play.

Brody knew what would happen next: the Leafs would try to gain possession and get out of their zone, and in another minute, they'd pull their goalie for the extra skater. Might even pull him earlier if it looked like it would pay off. He turned his attention to keeping the Leafs penned in their zone.

A Leafs' defenseman corralled the puck and shot it up ice. Both teams raced up to follow, and Toronto's goalie skated to the bench. Another forward took his place as play moved into the Caps' defensive zone. The teams fought for the puck, but a slap shot by Toronto hit a stick and went out of play. Everyone sucked air and Brody hopped over the boards, his shift done.

Brody watched as the Caps won the face off and the puck went to Baxter, who carried it up and shot it at the Leafs' empty net. It didn't have enough power behind it, and the ice was rough, but his linemate, Callahan, got there before any of the Leafs did and sent it into the empty net. The Caps' bench, along with the arena, jumped up and cheered.

The goal energized the Caps, who played keep-away and penned the Leafs in their own zone for the last minute or so of the game, and when the siren sounded to end the game, relief and more cheers swept through both players and fans. Brody joined in the celebration but felt tired and empty.

Coach gave them a quick, complimentary pep talk before reminding them of their schedule the next day. There were more road games on the horizon, including one the next night in Toronto, the second half of the home-and-home with the Leafs, the last time the teams would meet for the season.

He busied himself with his after-game routine, going over the list of things he'd need to pack for the trip; they were leaving in the morning. It was an unnecessary exercise—he could pack for a trip like this in his sleep. On the other hand, it kept his mind occupied.

Brody, Bax and Mark went to a small bar in D.C. a few blocks from Verizon Center to unwind after the game. Brody slid into his seat and ordered a beer and Mark and Bax followed suit. Brody listened as his friends rehashed the game, offering no opinions unless asked a direct question.

Bax took a drink and looked at Brody. "You okay?"

"Sure. Why?"

"You're not your usual obnoxious self. Everything okay?"

"Fine."

"How's Ryan?"

Brody shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Haven't talked to her in a few days."

Bax paused before replying. "You guys just busy, or what?"

"Don't know. You'd have to ask her."

Mark turned to him. "What happened? What did you do?"

Brody stared at his friend. "Where the fuck did you get this idea that I'm such an asshole when it comes to women?"

Mark and Bax exchanged a glance, then Mark shrugged. "Sorry, man. So what happened?"

Brody took a long pull on his beer. "It would appear I'm too much of a jock for her. I didn't jump up and down enough when she told me about her tour."

Bax nodded. "Okay, then."

"Come on, that can't be all of it. What did you do?" Mark tapped his finger on the glass.

"Gainer, if you ask me that once more, I will break your leg."

Mark and Bax exchanged another look. Brody huffed out a breath. "Guys, look, I'm not in the mood for this. I just want to decompress for a while, then go home."

"Why don't you call her?" Bax asked.

"She knows how to get in touch if she wants to."

"Come on, man. You're going to let it go just like that?" Mark leaned back in his seat.

Brody gave him a puzzled look. "What do you care? You never thought I should go out with her in the first place."

"I was just worried you'd end up hurting her."

"Relax, that's not what happened." Brody drained his glass. "Trust me, Ryan can handle herself. She made that very clear."

Bax's laugh rumbled up from his chest. "Can you handle her?"

"Very funny, Bax, but it's a moot point."

"Nah." Bax waved a hand. "These things happen. You'll get past it."

"Right." Brody signaled for another beer.

Later, at home, Brody sat in front of the television. Someone was making something fantastic on the food channel, but he couldn't concentrate. Food, he thought sourly, made him think of Ryan. In fact, it felt like everything made him think of Ryan, and it pissed him off.

She'd broken up with him. That was fine, he'd been through plenty of break ups, and been on both sides of it. None of those, however, had affected him the way this had. He'd been amazed at how disappointed he was when she hadn't called or come over after a couple of days. He'd never felt like that after a break up before. With previous girlfriends when it was over, it was over, and he could deal with that.

He hadn't expected to miss her and he didn't know what to do about it. It didn't even seem fair. She'd been the one who'd started the argument; by all rights, he should still be pissed off at her. The only thing was, anger wasn't the only emotion he felt; it wasn't even the primary one.

It was just as well she hadn't called. It was all getting too serious, anyway, and he'd never meant for that to happen. He didn't want to be tied down when he still had hockey to play. He didn't want to be like Bax, not seeing his family for weeks on end because they were in one city and he'd gotten traded to another.

Ryan had said she could do it herself. Brody saw no reason to doubt her.

At rehearsal, Ryan was pleased that things were running smoothly. They sounded good; she felt like they hadn't meshed like this in ages. Maybe Jason's absence was the key, she thought. They'd all remarked on how much less stressful everything was without him.

Even so, Ryan was distracted. She'd felt guilty since she'd gone off on Brody, and knew she'd been wrong. She wanted to apologize but wasn't sure if he'd listen, and she couldn't blame him if he didn't. The song ended and she stared at the floor, lost in thought. She didn't see her friends looking at each other, then her.

"Ryan. Hey, Ryan." Lara waited for a response, then looked at the guys.

Mitch bashed his cymbals and Ryan jumped. "What the hell?"

"Ryan, you're not all here," Mitch said. "You okay? We can take a break for a while or knock off, whatever."

"Um, yeah. Sure. I could use a break."

"Okay, you guys go." Lara made a motion to shoo Nate and Mitch out of the room. "Go somewhere and come back in a little while."

"Yes, Mom." Nate grinned as he set his bass down. "Hey, Ryan, if it's guy trouble, remember—show up naked with beer. If it's really serious, bring pizza, too."

"You guys are so helpful." Ryan shook her head and laughed as the guys left, then turned to Lara as she leaned her guitar on its stand. "What's up?"

"Mitch is right, you're not all here. What's going on?"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry; I'm just a little tired, and you know how I am. I'm thinking about the tour."

"Yeah, I got that. Ryan, you are not just distracted. You played with about as much emotion as a robot. Or dare I say, Jason?"

Ryan stared at her friend. "God, I must really suck."

"I know something's been bothering you, and it probably has to do with Brody."

"How would you know that?"

"Please, I'm your best friend." Lara scoffed, then sat down. "I'm serious. You've been in a pissy mood ever since he met your parents and if I hear one more angry metal song, I'm going to turn your iPod off with a hammer. You haven't mentioned him at all for the past few days. So tell me what it is. Did you break up?"

Ryan dropped into a chair; Lara could be nosy, but this was genuine concern and deserved an answer. "I'm not sure if we broke up, but we did have a fight. Well, I did."

"What happened?"

Ryan explained about their argument. "I know, I was wrong. I was just so mad, and he was there and I took it out on him. I went too far."

"So go apologize. He'll listen."

"I should, whether he listens or not. I owe him that much."

"Whatever you do, do it soon. We need you back."

Nate and Mitch returned with food, much to the amusement of Ryan and Lara. Ryan noted that Nate never returned without food, not that she was complaining. After a snack and a quick discussion, they ran through a couple more songs before calling it quits for the day.

On the drive home, Ryan waited; she knew Lara wouldn't be able to not say anything. It didn't take long.

"You know, I bet this isn't as bad as you think."

"Hmmm?"

"It's just a misunderstanding, and you guys have had time to cool off. It'll be fine."

"Probably."

"Brody's a cool guy; he doesn't seem like the type to hold a grudge."

"True."

"So it'll all work out."

Ryan shrugged. "One way or the other, I guess it will."

"When did you become so pessimistic?" Lara looked over and gave Ryan a little shove.

"Eyes front. I'm not. I'm just not getting my hopes up."

"You are so frustrating to talk to, do you know that?" Lara shook her head. "You're supposed to be nervous and tell me about it, and then we eat ice cream. You know, like women are supposed to."

"If I did that, what would you do with Trout?" Ryan laughed at Lara's scowl. "Relax, I'm going to talk to him. I'll go as soon as we get back; I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a game tonight. After that, you can get out the ice cream. Make sure there's lots of mint chocolate chip."

Once at the apartment, she put her guitar and keyboards inside. Fearing she might change her mind, she didn't even take her coat off before going up to Brody's. To keep herself occupied in the elevator, she double-checked the team's schedule via her phone and was both relieved and apprehensive to find the night clear.

She knocked on the door and toyed with the end of her purple scarf while she waited. When Brody answered the door, her mouth went dry.

"Hi." Brody stood in the doorway.

"Hi." Ryan cleared her throat. "I, ah, is this a bad time?"

"No, it's okay. Come on in."

"Thanks."

Ryan stood in his living room and played with the end of her scarf again. She knew what she wanted to say, but she couldn't get started. Brody broke the awkward silence.

"So, what's up?"

She looked at him, unsettled by his neutral expression. "I, um, I'm sorry. I was totally wrong last week and I never should have said, well, a lot of things. I was upset about my parents and other stuff and I took it out on you. I shouldn't have. I know I have a temper, but that's no excuse." She took a deep breath and kept going. "I should have apologized before now. So, I'm sorry." Ryan twisted the scarf around her hands.

Brody was quiet for minute, then nodded. "Okay."

Ryan was both relieved and uncertain. She hadn't thought past her apology and so had no idea what to say now. She groped for words.

"Okay, good. I—like I said, I'm sorry it took so long." She refused to look away and managed a small smile. "So, that's it. I just wanted to stop by and ... anyway." She took a step back towards the door. When he made no move to stop her, she murmured a good-bye and left. In the elevator, she tried to ignore the heavy feeling of disappointment that settled over her.

Lara was waiting for her when she walked in the door. "So, how did it go?"

Ryan shrugged. "It went. I apologized."

"And?"

"And he said okay. Then I left." Ryan hung her jacket on the back of a chair. "That's about all there is to it."

Lara stared at her. "That's all? He didn't say anything else?"

"He told me I could come in."

"Ryan, what—"

"Lara, it's done, okay?" Ryan took a breath; she hadn't meant to sound so sharp. "Look, I apologized and he accepted. Now, how about that ice cream?"

Lara looked as though she wanted to say something, but shook her head instead and went into the kitchen. Ryan pressed her fingers to her eyes; she wasn't sure there was enough ice cream for this.

Brody was quiet as he sat on the team bus the next day for the ride up to New York, still mulling over seeing Ryan the night before. This was one relationship area he had no experience with—the post-breakup phase. In the past, when he'd broken up with someone, they had stayed broken up. There'd been no apologies.

Bax dropped into the seat next to him. "Well, you look like a barrel of laughs. Someone kick your dog?"

"Funny, Bax. I don't have a dog."

"Right. You must still be missing your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend." Not anymore, he thought, and the thought was depressing.

"You haven't talked to her at all?"

"Remember the part where she went ballistic on me and walked out?"

"I figured that would blow over. It's been over a week or whatever, right?"

"Christ, you aren't going to leave this alone, are you?" Brody shook his head. "Fine, I saw her last night. She apologized."

"And what happened?"

"Nothing. She said she was sorry, I said okay, and she left."

Bax gave him an exasperated look. "You know, a lot of times when people are going out and have a fight, one person says they're sorry and the other person forgives them and they resume the going out part of things."