Chapter 5 Ryder
Ryder
The morning after our almost-kiss, I wake to the sound of Maisie singing Christmas carols in the hallway.
My shoulder protests when I roll over, a dull ache that's been my companion since the injury.
The real pain sits lower, in my chest, where Lucy Wright has carved out space I didn't know existed.
I should regret last night. The way I held her. The way we almost crossed a line neither of us can uncross. But lying here in the predawn gray, all I can think about is how her breath caught when my thumb traced her jaw. How close I came to tasting her mouth.
How much I want to do it again.
Downstairs, the kitchen hums with Wright family chaos. Jim's making pancakes. Emma's refereeing a debate between Connor and Maisie about syrup quantities. The coffee maker gurgles.
Lucy stands at the counter wrapping gifts, scissors and tape and ribbon spread around her.
Green sweater, hair in a messy bun, reading glasses perched on her nose.
When she reaches for the tape dispenser, the sweater rides up.
I catch the curve of her lower back and have to look away before Connor notices where my attention lands.
"Morning," I manage.
She glances up. Our eyes lock. Pink floods her cheeks and I know she's thinking about last night. About my hands cupping her face. About how close we came before I stopped.
"Hi." Her voice has that breathy quality that goes straight to my groin.
I take the chair diagonally from her because sitting directly across feels dangerous. Our knees still bump under the table. Neither of us moves away.
"Sleep okay?" Emma asks, pouring coffee.
"Fine," Lucy says too fast.
"No," I say at the same time.
Connor's gaze ping-pongs between us. His eyes narrow. "You two are acting weird."
"We're not weird," Lucy protests. She picks up her coffee mug, takes a sip, makes a face. Looks down at the floating ribbons she apparently dropped in without noticing.
"Not weird at all," Emma says, hiding her grin behind her own mug.
Lucy fishes out the ribbons with two fingers, cheeks flaming. I focus on my pancakes before Connor's suspicion sharpens into certainty. But I feel her gaze on me. Feel the pull like gravity.
Breakfast stretches into torture. Lucy reaches for the syrup and her sweater pulls tight.
I remember how she felt pressed against me last night.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and I remember my fingers itching to do the same thing.
She licks maple syrup off her thumb and I nearly choke on my orange juice.
"Uncle Ryder?" Maisie tugs my sleeve. "Can you read me a story?"
Thank god for three-year-olds and their perfect timing.
I follow her to the living room, settle on the couch with her curled against my side. She hands me a worn copy of The Snowy Day and I start reading. Her small hand rests on my arm, thumb finding her mouth as she listens.
Lucy appears in the doorway with laundry. She stops when she sees us. Something soft crosses her face. Tender and wanting and so clear that my chest tightens.
She sets the basket down and joins us on the couch, close enough that her thigh presses against mine. Neither of us acknowledges the contact. Neither of us moves away.
When the story ends, Maisie demands another. Then another. By the third book, she's asleep against my shoulder, breathing soft and even.
"You're good with her," Lucy whispers.
"She's easy."
"She doesn't fall asleep on just anyone." Lucy tucks the blanket around Maisie. Her fingers brush my arm. "She trusts you."
The words hit deeper than they should. Trust. Something I haven't earned in a long time. Something I'm not sure I deserve.
Lucy's phone lights up on the side table. She glances at the screen, and her expression shifts. Goes tight.
"Everything okay?"
"It's Jessica from the hospital fundraiser board. I should..." She carefully extracts herself from the couch. "I'll be right back."
She disappears into the kitchen. I stay on the couch with Maisie sleeping against me, listening to the murmur of Lucy's voice. Can't make out words, but I hear the shift in tone. The worry.
Connor appears with two mugs of coffee. Hands me one and takes the armchair across from me.
"She likes you." He nods at Maisie. "Kids can tell when someone's genuine."
"She's a good kid."
"Lucy's good with her too. Natural. She'll make a great mom someday." He takes a sip of coffee. Studies me over the rim. "With the right person."
The warning lands clear even wrapped in casual conversation. I meet his gaze.
"I see how you look at her, Ryder. How she looks at you." He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I'm not blind. And I'm not stupid."
I stay quiet. Wait for the rest.
"You're my best friend. My brother in every way that matters. But Lucy?" His voice drops. "She's my baby sister. And she's already been through enough. She doesn't need someone who's going to leave and break her heart."
"I know."
"Do you?" Connor sets his mug down. "Because from where I'm sitting, you're not acting like it. The way you watched her at breakfast. The way you can't seem to stay away from her."
He's right and we both know it.
"She deserves better than me," I say.
"She deserves everything." Connor holds my gaze. "Someone stable. Someone who's ready for what she wants. Someone who'll stay."
The words hit me hard. Because he's naming every reason I've already listed. Every reason I should walk away.
"I'm not trying to hurt her."
"But you will." It's not accusation. Just fact. "That's what happens when you start something you can't finish."
Lucy's voice drifts from the kitchen. Still on the phone. Still worried about whatever's happening with the fundraiser.
"So what do you want me to do?" I ask. "Ignore her? Pretend this isn't happening?"
"I want you to be honest with yourself about what you can offer." Connor stands. "If it's three weeks and then you disappear back to Boston, that's not enough. Not for Lucy."
He's right. I know he's right.
But the thought of walking away now, of putting distance between us, makes my chest cave in.
Connor pauses at the doorway. "I love you, man. You know that. But I love her more. So whatever this is, make sure you're thinking about what she needs. Not just what you want."
Then he's gone, and I'm sitting here with Maisie asleep against my shoulder and the weight of Connor's warning pressing down.
I know the risks. Know I'm leaving. Know Lucy deserves forever, not just three weeks of stolen moments. Know pursuing this is selfish.
But I can't make myself care.
Once Emma comes in and takes Maise upstairs, I find Lucy in the kitchen. Her phone sits on the counter, call ended, but her face has gone pale. The gift she was wrapping lies forgotten, ribbon curling onto the floor.
"Hey." I close the distance between us. "What's wrong?"
"That was Emma's friend Jessica. She's on the board for the Pine Hollow Children's Hospital fundraiser." Lucy's voice shakes. "The charity hockey game might have to be canceled."
The words don't compute at first. "What? Why?"
"Ticket sales are terrible. We've only sold fifty tickets, and we need at least three hundred to cover the rink rental and make a donation worth the hospital's time.
The cancer ward needs new equipment for the pediatric patients, and this was supposed to be the big fundraiser.
" She presses her fingers to her eyes. "I organized this whole thing.
I convinced the board to try it. I promised them we'd raise real money. And now it's going to fall apart."
The crack in her voice guts me. This matters to her. Not just the event, but proving she can do something meaningful. That she's more than the sunshine girl who runs a cute shop.
"When's the game?"
"December thirtieth. Ten days away." She drops her hands. "We can't sell two hundred fifty tickets in ten days. Not with just local players. Apparently, no one cares about watching amateurs play hockey, even for charity."
"You need a draw."
"We need a miracle." She laughs, but the sound holds no humor. "If this fails, Jessica will look bad for vouching for me. The hospital loses funding they desperately need. And everyone in town will know I couldn't deliver. That I'm all talk."
The defeat in her voice triggers something in me. That old instinct to fix. To solve. To make the people I care about stop hurting.
"Let me make some calls."
"Ryder, you don't have to—"
"I know people. Give me an hour."
Her eyes widen. Hope flickers and dies. "You can't just call in favors for a small-town charity game."
"Watch me."
I pull out my phone and head for Jim's study. Close the door. Stare at my contact list and wonder if I've lost my mind. Using professional connections for Lucy's project. Calling in favors I've been saving. All for a woman I can't have and a town I don't live in.
But her face. The way she looked when she talked about disappointing people. About not mattering enough.
I dial the first number.
"Cade Sterling speaking."
"It's Ryder. I need a favor."
Cade and I came up through the juniors together. We've been teammates in Boston for three years. He's solid. Dependable. The kind of guy who shows up when it counts.
"Name it," he says.
"Pine Hollow, Vermont. December thirtieth. Charity game for Pine Hollow Children's Hospital. Cancer ward needs equipment." I lean against the desk. "I need you to play."
Silence. Then: "You want me to drive to Vermont between Christmas and New Year's to play in some random charity game?"
"Yes."
"What about your shoulder? You cleared for contact yet?"
"It's a charity game. No checking. Light skating only." I grip the phone tighter. "I'll manage."
"You sure about this?"
"I'm asking, aren't I?"
"Why?"
Good question. Because the woman I'm falling for needs this. Because I can fix it. Because making her smile has become more important than protecting my own interests.
"It matters," is what I say. "Kids matter. Hospital needs the money. And I'm asking."