28. Ryker
Chapter 28
Ryker
P aige's footsteps faded into the distance, leaving me alone in her house. I stood by the window, watching her head to the ice. My stomach churned. Gideon wasn't going to be happy, and I hated that she had to face him alone.
Pussy, I thought. She walked right out. You really going to hide in here?
I sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and something I couldn't quite name. The room felt empty without her presence, her scent still lingering in the air.
I knew I had to leave eventually, but the thought of facing those vultures made my skin crawl. Instead, I decided to take a shower first. Maybe it would clear my head.
The bathroom was small but cozy, with soft lighting and white tiles that reflected the steam rising from the hot water. I undressed quickly, stepping under the stream and letting it wash away the tension that had built up in my shoulders.
I reached for a bottle of body wash, noting it was Paige's favorite brand. The scent was light and floral, something I'd never choose for myself but didn't entirely mind. As I lathered it onto my skin, I couldn't help but think about how close I'd been to her earlier, how her scent had mingled with mine.
The hot water pounded against my back, and I closed my eyes, letting the steam envelop me. It was strange how comforting it felt to be surrounded by something that reminded me of her. For a moment, I allowed myself to relax, to forget about the chaos waiting outside.
When I finally stepped out of the shower, I felt more grounded. The scent of Paige's body wash clung to my skin, and as much as I hated to admit it, I didn't mind smelling like her.
I dressed quickly, knowing I couldn't avoid leaving forever. But as I stood there in her bathroom, surrounded by traces of her life, I felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—a longing for connection that I'd spent years suppressing.
I shook off the feeling and made my way to the back door. Time to face the world outside and whatever came with it. I just hoped they hadn't noticed this place just yet.
I slipped outside, the cool night air hitting me like a splash of water. The street was quiet, a far cry from what I knew would have erupted if I had gone out the front. My knuckles throbbed from the fight with Brendan, a dull ache that reminded me of every punch I landed. I clenched my fist, wishing I'd done more damage.
Fury swept through me, an all-consuming fire that made me want to hit something—anything. But preseason began next month. Not smart to risk an injury now.
I ordered an Uber from my cracked phone–I didn’t regret throwing it–and walked down the block, keeping my head low. Nobody noticed me, which was a small mercy. The last thing I needed was more attention.
The glow of my phone screen lit up my face as I waited for the car to arrive. Each second felt like an eternity, my mind replaying the confrontation with Brendan over and over. His smug face, the way he dismissed Paige's claims—it made my blood boil.
Finally, the Uber pulled up. I opened the door and slid into the back seat, grateful for the temporary escape.
"Where to?" the driver asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
I had to think about it for a moment. My mind raced through options—home, a bar to drown my anger, picking up my car—but none of them felt right.
"The Snake Pit," I muttered.
The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb. I leaned back in my seat, trying to calm the storm inside me. The city lights blurred as we sped through the streets, but my thoughts remained sharp and jagged.
I couldn't shake the image of Paige's face when she told me about Brendan. The fear in her eyes, the tremor in her voice—it gnawed at me. She didn't deserve any of this. And somehow, I felt responsible.
The car's interior buzzed with the low hum of the engine, but my phone vibrated louder. I glanced down at the screen. Notifications flooded in, texts from teammates, and unknown numbers. My gut twisted. The news had broken.
My thumb hovered over one of the messages from Leo Wolfe. He usually kept things light, but his tone seemed off.
Bro, you need to see this.
Curiosity and dread battled inside me as I clicked on the attached image. The picture loaded slowly, pixels arranging themselves into a nightmare.
It was Paige and me, tangled together in her bedroom. The granulated photo showed just enough to make out our faces, our bodies pressed close in an intimate moment. My stomach dropped. Fury ignited like a matchstick struck against sandpaper.
Who the hell leaked this?
My mind raced through possibilities—paparazzi, some lowlife looking for a quick buck. There were laws to prevent them from getting this close to private property, but when did they ever care about laws? Rage simmered beneath my skin as I stared at the image.
I clenched my fist around my phone, knuckles white with anger. Someone had invaded our privacy and exposed something that wasn't meant for public consumption. Paige didn’t deserve this invasion; neither did I.
The Uber driver glanced back at me through the rearview mirror, probably sensing my agitation.
"Everything all right back there?" he asked.
I didn't bother answering. My mind was already spinning with thoughts of retribution. Whoever did this was going to pay—and not just in court fees or settlements. I wanted to make them feel the weight of their actions personally.
As the car sped toward The Snake Pit, I could barely focus on anything but finding out who was responsible for this mess. Every text that came in felt like another punch to the gut—a reminder that our private lives were now fodder for public gossip.
I had to find out who took that picture—I was sure there were more—and how they managed to get so close without us noticing. And when I did, they'd regret ever crossing me.
The city lights blurred past as we approached the rink, my thoughts dark and stormy like the sky before a downpour. This wasn't over—not by a long shot.
The Uber pulled up to The Snake Pit, its headlights cutting through the late afternoon. I opened the door and stepped out, the cool air a sharp contrast to the heat simmering inside me. I leaned back into the car, reaching for my wallet.
"Thanks," I muttered, handing the driver a crisp bill that was more than generous.
He looked surprised but nodded. "Appreciate it."
I closed the door and watched him drive off before pulling out my phone. I scrolled through my contacts until I found Derek's number and hit call.
The phone barely rang once before he picked up. "Hey, man! I knew you and the PR hottie would?—"
"Find out who leaked those photos," I demanded, cutting him off. “And pick up my car from Rylan’s. You know the code. Keys are in the dash.”
Derek's voice faltered. "What? Ryker, wait?—"
I didn't have time for explanations or pleasantries. I ended the call and shoved my phone back into my pocket, striding toward the entrance of the rink.
As soon as I walked inside, a few employees scattered like startled birds, their whispers trailing behind them. Their glances flicked from me to their phones and back again, no doubt buzzing with the same news that had just blindsided me.
It wasn't helping my anger. Each whisper felt like a needle prickling under my skin, each a reminder of how our private moment had been turned into a public spectacle.
I needed to see Gideon. Needed... fuck; I didn’t know what I needed.
My steps echoed through the empty halls as I made my way to his office. The usually comforting familiarity of The Snake Pit now felt suffocating. Every corner seemed to hold another pair of eyes, another set of whispers ready to judge.
Gideon's door loomed ahead, slightly ajar with light spilling out into the hallway. My fist hovered over the wood for a moment before I knocked twice and pushed it open.
I walked in without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind me with more force than necessary. Gideon looked up from his desk, eyebrows raised in mild surprise but otherwise unreadable.
"You can't fire her," I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
He gave me a long look, his eyes searching mine. The silence between us stretched, thick and heavy.
"Isn't that what you wanted this whole time?" he finally asked. "Her fired?"
I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It's complicated."
He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "No shit." He studied me for a moment longer. "Explain."
I stayed silent, my thoughts a tangled mess.
"How am I to understand?—"
" I don't understand," I admitted, cutting him off. "I…"
"You… love her?" Gideon asked, his voice softening. "I've already spoken to her about it. She's insistent she'll leave if it means you stay on. Very self-sacrificing, but…"
"But?" I prompted, my heart pounding in my chest.
He locked eyes with me, his expression serious. "She cares very deeply for you," he said slowly. "I'm in no position to give advice?—"
"So don't," I interrupted.
"But if I were," he continued, ignoring my interjection, "I'd tell you that people like Paige Adams don't come around very often, if at all."
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "Would there be a way to let her stay and for me to…" My voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
"I suppose we'll see," he said with a sigh.
Before he could say anything more, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw my father's name flashing across it. A fresh wave of anger surged through me, but I ignored the call, shoving the phone back into my pocket.
He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on it. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "Ryker," he began carefully, "you need to figure out what you want and who you want to be in all this."
His words hit harder than any punch I'd taken on the ice. I nodded slowly, feeling the enormity of the situation settling over me like a heavy blanket.
"This isn't just about you or her," he said. "It's about the team too, whether you want to admit it or not."
As I turned to leave his office, my mind raced with thoughts of Paige and the mess we were in. I needed to talk to her.
"Where is she?" I asked when I reached the door, my voice barely masking the urgency I felt.
"Speaking to Jared Crowder," Gideon replied, leaning back in his chair with a nonchalance that grated on my nerves.
I turned sharply, confusion and frustration boiling over. "What? Why?—?"
"If she can sign him," he interrupted, his tone calm but firm, "I'm going to let her keep her job."
I waited for more, for any additional information that would make sense of this chaotic mess. But Gideon stayed silent, his eyes fixed on mine.
"Don't look at me," he finally said, shrugging. "You need to sort out your dirty laundry with her."
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again. I pulled it out and saw Derek's name flashing on the screen. I answered it quickly, stepping out of Gideon's office.
"Yo, man, I did some digging?—"
"Just tell me," I cut him off, impatience lacing my words as I walked down the hallway.
"It was your brother," Derek said.
I froze in place, the world tilting on its axis. My brother? How the hell?—
I couldn't process it all at once. My mind raced through memories and interactions, trying to piece together how he could be involved in this betrayal.
"Ryker?" Derek's voice pulled me back to the present.
"I'm here," I managed to say, though my throat felt tight. "Thanks."
I ended the call without waiting for a response and leaned against the wall for support. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface now roared to life, threatening to consume me.
But there was no time to deal with that now. Paige was with Jared Crowder, a wildcard if ever there was one. And if signing him meant saving her job, then…
I wanted to be there, to make sure Crowder signed.
But I couldn't run after her. She had to do this. And I knew she could.
But.
I could find my brother.
I headed to the basement, where coaching offices and the ice entrance was located. Barrett's office stood silent, a hollow space filled with tension. The desk was a mess of papers, but Barrett himself was nowhere to be seen. His keys lay there, a tempting glint of metal. I grabbed them without a second thought, the cool metal biting into my palm as I stormed out.
I knew exactly where to find Brendan. He always ran to our father when things got tough, hiding like a scared child. The drive home was a blur, my mind consumed by anger and betrayal. My childhood home loomed ahead, a place I'd escaped from years ago but could never fully leave behind.
The car door slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing in the quiet street. I walked up the path, my steps heavy with purpose. The front door opened before I could knock, and there stood Brendan, looking smug and unrepentant.
Without hesitation, I swung my fist, connecting squarely with his jaw. "That's for leaking those pictures," I growled as he staggered back.
Brendan's eyes widened in shock as he fell to the floor. I kicked him hard in the ribs, each blow fueled by my fury. "And if you ever touch her again," I snarled, "I'll break every bone in your body. We're done."
He coughed up blood, struggling to catch his breath as he tried to sit up. But before he could speak, our father rushed into the room.
"What the hell's going on here?" he demanded, his voice thunderous.
"Your son is a monster," I spat out.
"That's rich coming from you," my father retorted, his eyes narrowing with disdain.
"I'm finally done trying to be perfect," I said through gritted teeth. "Brendan beat Paige in their relationship. That's why she left him at the altar. And that’s not including the cheating.”
He managed to lift his head slightly, blood trickling from his mouth. "Because of you," he choked out. "I found out?—"
He couldn't finish the sentence before collapsing back down.
"We're family," our father insisted. "You don't do this to family."
"Well, Dad," I muttered darkly, "good thing you can choose your family because I'm done with both of you." I turned toward the door, throwing one last look over my shoulder. "And if any of you come near Paige again, I'll fucking kill you."
With that final warning hanging in the air like a storm cloud about to burst, I walked out of the house for the last time, and didn't look back.