30. Ryker
Chapter 30
Ryker
I fucking hated this.
The journalists, vultures in pressed suits, lined up like a firing squad in front of my house. Each camera lens glinted like a predatory eye, and the low murmur of voices buzzed with anticipation. My privacy, shattered. But I had asked for this, a necessary evil to clean up the mess I’d made.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, steeling myself for the onslaught.
Stepping outside, the flashes erupted, blinding in their intensity. A cacophony of questions flew at me, their voices merging into a chaotic blur. I held up my hand, signaling for silence. Gradually, the noise died down to an expectant hush.
I stood there, every muscle tensed. The cold wind bit through my jacket, but it did nothing to numb the anger simmering beneath my skin.
"This press conference," I began, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me, "is to address recent events that have caused significant controversy."
More flashes. Faces leaned forward with hungry curiosity.
"I take full responsibility for my actions," I continued. The words tasted bitter, but I forced them out. "And I'm here to set things right."
A journalist in a red coat stepped forward. "Mr. Kane, can you elaborate on your relationship with Paige Adams?"
My jaw tightened at the mention of her name. Paige. The cause of so much turmoil and confusion in my life right now. But this wasn’t about her—it was about damage control.
"Paige Adams is extremely well-respected and damn good at her job," I said, my voice cutting through the noise. "She's talented, intelligent, and loyal."
The flashes continued, capturing every flicker of emotion on my face. I could see the anticipation in their eyes, waiting for a slip, a crack.
"There were pictures of you and her released earlier today," someone pointed out.
"The pictures released," I began, feeling the anger rise like bile in my throat, "are no one's fucking business."
The crowd stirred, murmurs spreading like wildfire.
"What's the nature of your relationship?" someone else shouted from the back.
I clenched my teeth. The urge to tell them it was none of their concern almost overwhelmed me. But I knew better. I needed to fix this.
"I can't speak for her," I said slowly, each word weighed with care. "But… she's very special to me."
"Clearly," another voice sniped from the crowd.
I glared at the faceless mass of reporters. My fists tightened at my sides.
"Kane, what about your sudden anger?" one journalist dared to ask. "You've always been known for maintaining control even in high-pressure situations, but recently, that's changed. Care to explain why?"
I took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in my chest. "I've always been angry," I admitted. "I've just allowed myself to express it recently." The words felt raw but liberating. "I've bottled up most of my emotions for too long. What I did to that fan was unacceptable. However," I paused, meeting their eyes with unwavering intensity, "I don't regret defending my teammates on and off the ice. I'd do it again."
"And Miss Adams?" another voice chimed in.
"What about her?" I shot back.
"Would you defend her?"
"If anyone hurt one hair on her head," I snarled, feeling the ferocity of my emotions boiling over, "I'd kill them."
A low murmur spread amongst the journalists, their pens scribbling furiously on notepads. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions and lingering tension.
I stood there, chest heaving slightly as I tried to regain control. The truth had slipped out in raw fragments, each piece revealing more than I'd intended but somehow necessary.
A journalist in the back raised his hand, his voice cutting through the murmur. "Mr. Kane, what do you say to those who claim the Serpents are known more for scandals than skill?"
I clenched my jaw, biting back a sharp retort. Gideon's words echoed in my mind. Paige thought we should embrace our role as the bad boys of the league, that it gave us an edge.
"Perhaps," I said, meeting their gazes head-on. "And if other teams want to underestimate us, just as you all do, let them. They'll see what happens when they do. We're a passionate team, and while we won't start a fight, we will finish it."
The murmurs intensified. A couple of phones went off, the screens lighting up with breaking news alerts. I could sense something big was happening.
"News just broke," someone shouted over the noise. "The Serpents signed Jared Crowder. Thoughts?"
I couldn't help but smirk. She did it. She signed him.
"I have no comment on the matter other than to welcome him to the team," I said.
"What about his issues with Weston Cole?" another journalist pressed.
I took a breath, considering my words carefully. "Jared Crowder is a Serpent now," I said slowly. "That means he's family. We don't always like each other, but we will defend each other. Because that's what real families do."
The crowd buzzed with renewed energy, questions flying faster than I could keep up with. But I'd said what needed to be said.
I stepped back and turned toward the door, heading inside without another word.
Inside, the quiet enveloped me like a protective cloak. The chaos outside seemed like a distant storm, its thunderous roars muted by the walls around me.
But for once, I didn't care.
The news of Crowder's signing had dominated the airwaves all evening, shifting some attention away from the photos that had caused such a stir. It wasn't a complete reprieve, but it was something.
I laced up my skates, the familiar ritual calming my racing thoughts. The cool air of the rink bit at my skin, a welcome distraction from the chaos swirling in my mind. When I finished, I slipped on my gloves and grabbed my stick before carving the ice with my blades. There was nothing like stepping onto a clean sheet of ice. After warming up, I grabbed a few pucks from a bucket on the home bench and made my way to the net. With each puck I fired, I tried to drown out the noise, to find that place of clarity I so desperately needed.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
The pucks slammed against the boards, a staccato rhythm that mirrored my heartbeat. I didn't know how long I had been out there, losing myself in the motion, in the physicality of it all. The ice was where I could be free, where the weight of expectations and responsibilities melted away.
But even here, she lingered in my thoughts. Paige Adams. Her name alone sent a ripple through me that I couldn't quite understand or control. Part of me wanted to see her, to explain things—maybe even apologize—but another part knew I should keep my distance. She deserved better than to be dragged into my mess. Again.
Thunk.
I paused for a moment, resting on my stick and catching my breath. The rink was quiet now, just me and the ghostly echoes of my shots reverberating off the walls.
When I finally looked up, she was there. Paige stood at the edge of the rink, her eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my chest tighten.
For a moment, we just stared at each other across the expanse of ice. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of curiosity and something else—something softer that I couldn't quite place.
The silence between us stretched on, heavy and charged. My pulse quickened as I wondered what she was thinking, why she was here.
And then she took a step closer, breaking our shared stillness.
“You're here.” Her voice cut through the cold air like a blade.
"I needed to clear my head," I replied, straightening up and meeting her gaze fully for what felt like the first time. I skated over to her before I realized what I was doing.
"I saw your press conference," she said, her voice cutting through the chilled air.
"That bad?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I skated closer.
"I have notes," she replied with a small smile. "I do have a question."
I cocked my head, curious and wary at the same time. "Go on."
"Define special," she said, her eyes boring into mine.
The word hung between us like a fragile piece of glass, ready to shatter. For a moment, I didn't know how to respond. But her gaze demanded honesty, something raw and real.
"For the longest time, I thought you didn't even remember who I was," she continued, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "And when I got here, you hated me because you thought I left your brother at the altar. And now… Now I don't know what special means. And I need you to explain it to me."
I stared at her, the weight of her words settling over me like a heavy blanket. Memories of that night, years ago, flooded back. The night everything changed.
"It means I never forgot that night," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "It means when I found out you were with Brendan, I wanted to rip him apart limb from limb, but I couldn't because that was my brother."
She sucked in a breath, but didn't interrupt.
"It means I hated you for making me feel all of these things I never wanted to feel in the first place," I continued, each word dredging up emotions I'd buried deep. "And I wanted you to hurt the way I hurt knowing you were with him at all and I could never have you again because I was supposed to be loyal to my brother."
Her eyes widened, shimmering with unshed tears. "And now?" she asked softly.
"Now," I said, stepping closer until there was barely any space between us, "I would walk on glass just to catch even a glimmer of your attention."
Her mouth dropped open in shock.
"It's always been you," I murmured, my gaze locked on hers. "It was then, it is now. And it will always be you."
"Ryker," she breathed out, her voice a whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.
I couldn't look away from her lips, slightly parted and so inviting. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears. The air between us felt charged, electric, as if the entire world had narrowed down to this single moment.
Without thinking, I closed the distance between us. My hands found her waist, pulling her against me. Her warmth seeped through our clothes, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing second. Her breath hitched, and I could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against mine.
I dipped my head and captured her lips with mine. The sensation was overwhelming—soft yet firm, tentative yet insistent. Her taste was a mix of mint and something uniquely Paige. She responded immediately, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer as if she never wanted to let go.
Every nerve ending in my body came alive. Her fingers slid through my hair, sending tingles down my spine. The scent of her shampoo—the same one I used—filled my senses, intoxicating me further.
I deepened the kiss, and she met me with equal fervor. Our breaths mingled, creating a rhythm that was ours alone. I could feel the slight tremor in her body, the way she melted into me as if she had been waiting for this as long as I had.
Time seemed to stretch and contract all at once. Nothing else mattered but the feel of her lips on mine, the way she clung to me like I was her anchor in a stormy sea.
When we finally pulled back for air, our foreheads rested against each other. Her eyes were closed, her breath coming in soft pants that matched my own ragged breathing.
I opened my eyes to find hers staring back at me with a mix of wonder and something that mirrored what I felt inside.
"Paige," I whispered against her lips, barely able to form coherent thoughts through the haze of emotions swirling inside me.
She opened her eyes slowly, looking up at me with a vulnerability that made my chest tighten.
This kiss had changed everything and nothing all at once.
“I love you,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. They hung in the air, fragile and terrifying. “I want you.”
Paige swallowed hard, her eyes searching mine for a moment that felt like an eternity. Then, she smiled, a soft curve of her lips that made my heart ache. “I love you too,” she breathed out, her voice barely more than a whisper.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis, everything narrowing down to this singular moment. I captured her lips again, unable to hold back any longer. My hands roamed her body, feeling the curves and warmth through the fabric of her clothes. Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, deeper into the kiss.
Every touch was electric, every caress sending jolts of desire through me. The rink's cold air was forgotten, replaced by the heat between us. Paige's breath hitched as my hands explored, memorizing the feel of her. She pressed closer, as if trying to fuse our bodies together.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. Her eyes were half-closed, pupils dilated with want. Her lips were swollen from our kisses, and it took all my self-control not to claim them again immediately.
“Paige,” I murmured, my voice rough with emotion.
“Ryker,” she replied, her voice shaky but sure.
I kissed her again, more slowly this time. My hands continued their journey over her body, learning every inch of her through touch alone. Her fingers traced patterns on my back, each movement sending shivers down my spine.
Her breath came in soft gasps as I trailed kisses down her neck, savoring the way she arched against me.
She tugged me back up for another kiss, our lips meeting in a dance that felt both familiar and brand new. The ice seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, reflecting the intensity of what we shared.
Nothing else mattered in that moment but Paige and the overwhelming feeling that this—she—was what I had been searching for all along.
When we finally broke apart, our breaths mingled in the cold air. Paige’s eyes searched mine, a question unspoken but understood.
"I’m taking you back to my place," I said, my voice firm. "And keeping you there."
A slow smile spread across her face. "We’ll have to tell HR in the morning."
I frowned, confused for a moment. "You aren’t fired?"
She shook her head; her smile widening. "I signed Crowder. And Gideon saw your press conference. He knew you would rather have cut your left nut off—his words, not mine—than to willingly call a press conference yourself. But knowing you did that for the team meant a lot to him. I get to stay."
I smirked, a sense of relief washing over me. "Crowder, huh? That’ll be… something."
Paige shrugged lightly. "I don’t know. I think he’ll be good. I think this year will be the Serpents' year."
I said nothing, letting her words sink in. In truth, it didn’t matter whether Crowder turned out to be a game-changer or just another player on the roster. What mattered was that Paige was here, with me, and she wasn’t going anywhere.
Without another word, I pulled her close and kissed her again. This time it was softer, more tender, but no less passionate. Her lips were warm and inviting, grounding me in a way nothing else ever had.
As we pulled back once more, I rested my forehead against hers, my breath mingling with hers in the cold air of the rink.
"Let’s get out of here," I whispered.
She nodded, and together we made our way off the ice. Hand in hand, we walked toward whatever came next, ready to face it together.
For the first time in a long while, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I could let someone else in without everything falling apart.
And even if it did fall apart, at least I'd still have her.