Chapter 5 Ryder #2
"You never ask for anything." Cade sounds intrigued now. Curious. "This about that small town you disappeared to?"
"You in or not?"
"Fine. Send me details. But you owe me."
"Done."
One down.
I dial Alexei Petrov next. Former teammate who moved to New York three years ago. We stay in touch. He's good people. Also owes me from that incident in Boston I never mentioned to the press.
"Ryder? The hell you calling me at nine in the morning for?"
"Remember Boston?"
Pause. "That wasn't my finest moment."
"I kept it quiet. Now I'm calling in that favor." I explain the game. The hospital. The timeline. "I need you to show up and play. One game. Two hours of your time."
"You're serious."
"Dead serious."
"Christmas week, man. My parents are visiting. My girlfriend's coming with them. I can't just bail to Vermont."
"Bring them. Make it a long weekend. Pine Hollow's beautiful this time of year. The inn has good food. Your girlfriend will love it." I press harder. "And Alexei? This is me asking. When have I ever asked you for anything?"
The silence stretches. Then: "You're in deep with someone, aren't you? This isn't about hockey."
"It's about doing the right thing."
"Sure it is." But he laughs. "Fine. Text me the info. I'll make it work. But we're even after this."
"Even."
Two down. That's three NHL players counting me. More than enough star power to sell out the event.
I text both of them the details, then head back to the kitchen. Lucy's still there, staring at her phone as if willing it to deliver good news. When she sees me, hope wars with doubt on her face.
"Well?"
"I got three NHL players to commit to the game. Cade Sterling from Boston. Alexei Petrov from New York." I lean against the counter. "And me."
She blinks. "You got two more NHL players to play with you. Actual NHL players agreed to come here in ten days."
"Marketing hook writes itself. Come watch NHL players scrimmage with locals for a good cause. Ticket prices can go up. You'll sell out easy."
"Ryder." She's staring at me like I've performed actual magic. "How did you—why would you—"
"You needed help. I helped."
"But these are professional favors. You can't just waste them on—"
"Not a waste." I hold her gaze. "This matters to you. So it matters to me."
The words land between us. True and raw and more honest than I've been with anyone in months. Her eyes go bright. Shiny in a way that makes my chest ache.
"Thank you." The words come out whispered. Soft. Then she's moving. Crossing the kitchen in three steps and throwing her arms around me.
I catch her on instinct. Pull her close. She fits against me like she was designed for this spot, her face buried in my shoulder, her hands fisting in my shirt. I can smell her shampoo. Feel her heart beating against my chest. Every place we touch burns.
"Thank you," she says again into my collar. "You have no idea what this means."
"I have some idea."
She pulls back just enough to look up at me. Her hands are still on my chest. "Wait. Your shoulder. You're not cleared for contact yet."
"It's a charity game. No checking. Just light skating."
"Ryder." Worry creases her forehead. "What if you re-injure it? What if this sets back your recovery?"
"Then it sets it back." The words come out before I can think better of them. "Some things are worth the risk."
Her breath catches. We're staring at each other, and the air goes thick with everything we're not saying. She's close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her eyes. Close enough to count her freckles. Close enough that all I'd have to do is tilt my head and I could taste her mouth.
Her breath catches. Her fingers curl tighter in my shirt. We're staring at each other, and the air goes thick with everything we're not saying. Everything we want. Everything we can't have.
"Ryder," she whispers.
"Lucy."
She rises on her toes. I lean down. The distance between us shrinks to nothing.
"Hey, you two—"
Connor's voice hits like cold water. We spring apart. Lucy stumbles back. I shove my hands in my pockets. By the time Connor appears in the doorway, we're three feet apart and trying to look casual. Failing spectacularly.
Connor's eyes narrow. Bounce between us. Land on Lucy's flushed face. My probably guilty expression. The tension humming through the room.
"Everything okay here?"
"Fine," Lucy says too brightly. "Ryder just got NHL players for the charity game."
"Three of them," I add, aiming for normal. "Cade Sterling, Alexei Petrov, and me."
Connor processes this. Evaluates it against what he walked in on. Doesn't look convinced but can't pin anything concrete.
"That's great." His tone says it's not great. Says he knows something happened. Then his expression shifts. "Wait. You're playing? What about your shoulder?"
"It's non-contact. Just light skating."
"And if someone forgets it's non-contact? If some local hero decides to take a run at an NHL player?" Connor crosses his arms. "You could blow out your recovery. Miss the rest of the season."
"I'll be careful."
"For a charity game." He's watching me too closely. "You'd risk your career for Lucy's fundraiser."
The way he says it makes it clear he's not talking about hockey anymore.
Before I can answer, he shifts his attention to Lucy. "Lucy, Emma needs you upstairs. Gift emergency with Maisie."
"Right. Yes." She grabs her phone. Heads for the door. Pauses to look back at me. "Thank you. Really."
Then she's gone and I'm standing in the kitchen with Connor blocking the exit and suspicion radiating off him in waves.
"You want to tell me what that was about?" He crosses his arms.
"She was upset about the game. I helped."
"By calling in professional favors. For a small-town charity event."
"It's for sick kids. Why wouldn't I help?"
"Because you don't help anyone. You've spent two years keeping people at arm's length.
Being the cold bastard the press writes about.
" He steps closer. "Now you're making calls to save my sister's project?
Holding her in the kitchen at nine in the morning?
Don't tell me this is just about sick kids. "
He's right. We both know it. But admitting it means facing the consequences, and I'm not ready for that fight.
"She asked. I had the connections. That's all."
"Bullshit." Connor's jaw sets. "I know you, Ryder. And I know my sister. I see how you look at each other. How careful you're being not to touch. How awkward breakfast was."
"Connor—"
"I meant what I said the other night. Lucy deserves someone who stays. Someone who's not fucked up from his ex. Someone who can give her what she needs." He holds my gaze. "You're my best friend. You're my brother. But if you hurt her, we're done. All of it. The friendship. The family. Done."
The words land like stones. Heavy and real. The warning made explicit.
"I'm not going to hurt her," I say. The lie tastes bitter.
Because we both know that's not true. Know that every moment I spend near Lucy, every touch, every loaded look, every almost-kiss is leading somewhere that ends with her in pieces and Connor hating me and this family I've found destroyed.
I know it and can't stop anyway.
Connor holds my gaze another beat. Then shakes his head and walks out, leaving me alone with my guilt and my want and the certainty that I'm going to fuck this up.
I just don't know how to stop.
In the study, I text Cade and Alexei the final details. Confirm hotels. Work out logistics. Do the practical things that prove I can still function like a normal human being even though my insides are shredded.
Lucy's grateful face keeps surfacing in my mind. The way she looked at me, like I'd hung the moon. Like I was someone worth believing in. I haven't felt worthy of that kind of trust in two years. Haven't wanted to be.
But with her, I want to try.
That's the dangerous part. The wanting. The hope that maybe this could work. That maybe three weeks is enough time to figure out if this thing between us is real or just Christmas magic that evaporates when I go back to Boston and reality sets in.
Three weeks until I leave. Three weeks of torture, knowing I can't touch her the way I want. Can't kiss her in front of her family. Can't take her to bed and learn every sound she makes. Can't do any of it without destroying Connor in the process.
Three weeks of this pull between us growing stronger while I pretend I can walk away clean.
I'm lying to myself. I know that. But the alternative is walking away now, before this gets worse. Before we cross lines we can't uncross. Before I prove Sienna right about me being selfish and cold.
The smart move is to put distance between us. Stop with the loaded looks and the almost-touches. Stop making grand gestures that give her hope. Stop pretending this can end any way but badly.
But when I think about not seeing her smile, not hearing her laugh, not having her look at me like I matter, the thought makes my chest cave in.
So I stay. I let this pull me deeper. I make calls for her charity game and hold her when she's grateful and almost kiss her in kitchens.
I stay because I'm selfish. Because I want her. Because three weeks of this feels better than walking away with nothing.
Even knowing it's going to destroy us both.
Connor's right about one thing: I am fucked up. Two years of Sienna's manipulation left scars I'm still learning to navigate. Left me not trusting my own instincts. Not believing I deserve good things.
But Lucy makes me want to try. Makes me think maybe I'm not as broken as I thought. Maybe I'm just waiting for the right person to show me how to be whole again.
The question is whether I have the guts to let her.
Whether I can risk Connor's friendship, her heart, and the family I've built here for the possibility of something real.
Whether I'm brave enough to stay when leaving is so much safer.
I don't have answers. Just want and fear and the taste of almost-kisses that haunt me. Just the memory of her body against mine and her trust in my hands and the certainty that I'm in so much deeper than I planned.
Just a few weeks to figure out if love is worth the fallout.
Starting now.