29. Lukas

The bright citylights whiz by as I speed my car up I-90, my stomach in uncharacteristic knots. I'm on my way to meet up with Ryan for drinks. We promised Slade that we'd sort our shit out, and I'm always good on my word to Slade.

But fuck if this is going to be easy.

My phone buzzes, and I glance over to see my dad's name flashing on the screen. I let out a sigh, already knowing exactly how this conversation will go.

Against my better judgment, I hit the button on my steering wheel to pick up the call. Immediately, my dad's voice fills the car, spewing rapid-fire Czech.

"Luká?i! I cannot believe the incompetence of your team. You are so much better than all of them put together. And Harrison, letting himself get injured like that? Unacceptable. This is all Thompson's fault, you know. Fucking ridiculous that the owners made such a big deal about his trade, he's been disastrous for the team. I'm going to start making calls, see if we can get you traded somewhere that actually deserves you…"

I grip the steering wheel tighter as his tirade continues. In the past, I would've just let him rant until he ran out of steam. But things are different now. I take a deep breath, remembering what Emma said to me last month.

"But bottling it up isn't healthy either. It festers. Maybe it's time to finally unburden yourself."

There was something about the earnest look in her eyes that caught me off guard. Most people don't see past the cocky exterior to the fucked up parts underneath. But somehow, Emma did. And damn if she wasn't right.

So yeah, I'm seeing a therapist now.

His name is Doug, and our team's mental health coach, Sophie, referred me to him. He does virtual visits with me so I can work around our crazy travel schedule. Doug's a calm, balding guy in his 50s, and he's been fucking incredible at challenging what has turned out to be a lot of ingrained toxic traits.

These past few sessions with Doug have given me a whole new perspective on how to handle dear old Dad. Time to put it into practice.

"Tati," I interrupt him firmly. "Stop. Slade's injury was my fault, no one else's. I fucked up, and I take full responsibility for that."

He sputters in protest, but I plow ahead, not giving him a chance to derail me.

"And another thing—this dynamic between us needs to change. I know your lectures come from a place of love, but I'm a grown man. I need you to start treating me like one, with respect, or else…" I swallow hard. "Or else I'm going to have to stop taking your calls."

Stunned silence fills the line. For a second I think he might actually explode through the phone. But then he just makes a flustered noise and abruptly ends the call. I let out the breath I was holding.

Holy shit, I did it.

The first step to setting a boundary. I know it'll take more than one conversation to really change things, but damn does it feel good to finally stand up for myself.

I can't help the grin that spreads across my face as I take the exit for Fullerton. But it fades the closer I get to my destination.

Telling my dad to fuck off was one thing…but how candid am I going to get with Ryan?

The dim lights of Revolution Brewing glint off the smooth wood bar top as I spin my pint glass between my hands, the remnants of foam clinging to the sides. Ryan sits beside me, his broad shoulders hunched over his own beer as he traces patterns in the condensation. The silence between us stretches taut, heavy with a decade of unresolved problems.

Just as I open my mouth, searching for the right words to break the ice, Ryan clears his throat. "Look, man, I need to apologize." His deep voice is barely audible over the din of the crowded bar.

I raise an eyebrow, shifting on my stool to face him. "Oh yeah? For what exactly?"

Ryan sighs, dragging a hand over his close-cropped hair. "For acting like a dick since I joined the team. I know that shit with Madison was ages ago, and I should've let it go. Started fresh with you." He takes a swig of beer, Adam's apple bobbing. "I guess your confidence just…gets under my skin sometimes."

"My confidence, huh?" I smirk, though my pulse quickens at the unexpected compliment. "Didn't realize I had that effect on you, Thompson."

Color rises in Ryan's cheeks, and he looks away, his jaw clenched. "Don't flatter yourself, Dvorak. It's not like that."

I take a sip of my beer, feeling a little triumphant that I'm getting a rise out of him. And then I remember the whole reason we're here. To make amends. To begin again.

To come clean.

I set my glass down and sigh. "I, uh, I need to say something too," I start. "I kind of wanted you to hate me, all of these years. Frankly, I hated myself, so it felt easy to just let you hate me as well. But Emma made me realize…" My words drift off.

Can I really do this? Can I get this raw with him?

Ryan looks at me unblinkingly. "Whatever it is, man, you can tell me. Emma's made me realize some shit about myself, too."

I nod, gaze firm on the counter, then take another long drag of my beer. Here goes nothing.

"Emma made me realize that what happened that night with Madison wasn't my fault. I, uh, I told Madison no, man. Like, a couple times."

Ryan's eyes widen, his beer forgotten in his hand. "What are you saying, Lukas? That Madison…forced herself on you?"

I nod solemnly again, still avoiding his gaze. "Yeah. I was drunk, and she kept coming on to me, even when I said no. I was so out of it. Next thing I knew, she was on top of me. I didn't want it to happen." My voice cracks slightly. "I should have fought her off, but I just…froze."

Ryan sits in stunned silence for a long moment. I risk a glance at him and see his brow furrowed, eyes full of…is that concern?

"Shit, man," he says finally, shaking his head. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry that happened to you. It wasn't your fault at all."

Those simple words of validation hit me like a freight train. I feel a lump rise in my throat, and I quickly take another swig of beer to push it back down.

"Thanks," I manage gruffly. "It, uh, it means a lot to hear you say that."

Ryan nods, his dark eyes full of empathy. "Of course. I'm glad you told me. And I'm sorry for how I reacted back then, for blaming you. I should have seen that something was wrong."

"Nah, you couldn't have known. I played it off like it was no big deal." I shrug, trying to lighten the moment. "Lukas the playboy, just stealing people's partners on any day that ends with Y."

A smile tugs at the corner of Ryan's mouth. "Yeah, you were a cocky little shit. Still are, most of the time."

"Hey now, I prefer ‘confidently charismatic,' thank you very much," I quip back with a grin.

Our gazes meet in a heated moment. The tension between us shifts. Ryan's intense brown eyes lock onto mine and I feel a heated twist in my gut. I lick my lips unconsciously and notice how his gaze darts down to track the movement.

Holy fuck, is this really happening right now? Am I actually thinking that Ryan Thompson is…hot?

Does he think I'm hot?!

"You know, Dvorak," Ryan says, his deep voice sending another thrill through me. "There might be hope for you yet. Seems like Emma's rubbing off on you in more ways than one."

I can't help the devilish smirk that spreads across my face at his choice of words. "Oh, is that so? Jealous that you're not the one rubbing off on me?"

Ryan's face flushes again. Flirtatiously needling him is way more fun than I ever would've imagined.

As far as I know, Ryan is straight, but the way he's getting flustered makes me think that Thompson has some unexplored depths.

Interesting. Very interesting.

I let my knee drift over until it brushes against his thigh under the bar. Ryan sucks in a sharp breath, eyes widening. But he doesn't pull away.

"You know, when Slade, Alex, and I are with Emma, anything can happen," I murmur, leaning in closer, letting my voice dip into that low, seductive register that always gets results. "If you're curious."

"Lukas," Ryan says hoarsely. A warning and an invitation all in one. His pupils are blown wide, cheeks flushed, full lips parted. I've never seen him look so dumbstruck.

It's intoxicating.

"I'm a one-woman kind of guy," he says, averting his gaze and moving his thigh away.

Of course he'd say that. Because Ryan Thompson doesn't even begin to understand what he's missing. Suddenly, I feel like it's my mission to push his boundaries until he finds out.

"Too bad your one woman is a four-guys kind of gal," I shoot back at him, gesturing to the bartender for a refill.

Ryan scowls at me. "Yeah, speaking of that. Slade called me earlier today, said he wants me to come over for dinner at your guys's loft on Thursday night. With Emma."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "Oh really? And what did you say?"

Ryan shifts on his barstool, clearly uncomfortable. "I said yes. Against my better judgment." He glances sideways at me. "Slade made it sound like Emma really wants me there. And given how our relationship is going…I feel like I owe it to her to try."

I nod slowly, considering this development. Having Ryan over for dinner could either be a genius move to fold him into our polyamorous dynamic…or a total disaster that sends him running for the hills. But clearly, Slade and Emma see potential.

Very typical of our captain to try to bring us all together as team players.

"Well then," I say, clinking my fresh beer against his. "Guess I'll see you Thursday night."