Chapter 15 Ryder
Ryder
December thirtieth. Six in the morning and I'm already awake, staring at the ceiling of my room at the inn. Lucy's curled against my side, her breathing soft and even. One arm draped across my chest. Hair spilling over the pillow.
The charity game isn't until this afternoon, but my body knows something's about to change.
Not the game itself. I've played hundreds of games, thousands if you count practices and scrimmages. My shoulder feels good. Better than it has in weeks. The physical therapy has been working, and yesterday's practice session proved I can handle light contact.
No, what has my pulse hammering against my ribs is what comes after. The press conference. The moment I stop hiding and tell the world that Lucy Wright is mine.
That I'm hers.
She stirs against me. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my ribs.
"You're thinking too loud," she mumbles into my chest.
I kiss the top of her head. "Sorry."
"Nervous?"
"About the game? No." I tighten my arm around her. "About everything else? Yeah."
She props herself up on one elbow to look at me. Her eyes are soft. Still sleepy. "We don't have to do this today. We can wait."
"No." I cup her face. "I'm done waiting. Done hiding. I want everyone to know you're mine."
Her smile is worth every bit of fear churning in my gut. "Okay then."
I pull her down for a kiss. Slow and thorough. She melts into me and I'm tempted to say to hell with the game, to hell with everything except this bed and this woman.
But I made promises. To Lucy. To the kids at the hospital. To the town.
So I kiss her one more time and then force myself to let go.
"I need to head back to your dad's house to grab my gear. You want to come with or meet me at the rink?"
"I'll meet you there. I need to stop by the shop first, make sure everything's set for the fundraiser booth." She climbs out of bed, unselfconscious in her nakedness, and I have to look away before I change my mind about leaving.
One more day of pretending we're casual in front of other people.
Then I'm done pretending.
I shower at the inn while Lucy gets dressed. The hot water feels good on my shoulder. I rotate it through the full range of motion, testing for any catch or weakness. There's still some tightness, but nothing that will stop me from playing today. It's a charity game, not the playoffs. I can manage.
I towel off and dress in jeans and a thermal. I'll change into my Bruins warm-up gear at the rink. When I come out of the bathroom, Lucy's fully dressed, hair twisted up, looking at her phone.
"Natalie's freaking out about the booth setup," she says. "I really do need to get to the shop."
"Go." I pull her in for one more kiss. "I'll see you at the rink."
"I love you."
"Love you too."
I watch her leave, then grab my keys. Time to face the music at Jim's house. I need my gear. And maybe, if I'm lucky, I won't run into Connor before the game.
I'm not that lucky.
Connor's truck is in the driveway when I pull up. I grab my gear bag from my room and I'm almost back to the door when I hear his voice from the kitchen.
"Ryder. Got a minute?"
I close my eyes. Take a breath. Then head to the kitchen.
Connor's at the table with coffee and what looks like contract paperwork. He glances up when I enter. His expression is unreadable.
"Where were you last night?"
No point lying. "The inn."
"With Lucy."
It's not a question. I set my gear bag down. "Yeah."
He's quiet for a long moment. Studies me. Then nods slowly. "Emma's been on my ass for three days. Says I need to talk to you before the game."
"You don't have to—"
"Yeah, I do." He stands. "Look, I was an asshole on Christmas. Said things I shouldn't have."
"You weren't wrong about everything."
"I was wrong about what matters." He crosses his arms. "Emma helped me see that. Lucy's an adult. She makes her own choices. And she chose you."
My throat tightens. "She did."
"So I guess my question is: are you choosing her back? Or is this just until you leave for Boston?"
"I'm choosing her. Every day. For as long as she'll have me." I meet his eyes. "I know it's complicated with Boston and the distance. But I love her. And I'm going to do whatever it takes to make this work."
Connor nods. Then his jaw tightens. "If you hurt her, I'll break both your arms."
"Fair."
"I mean it, Blackwood. She's my baby sister."
"I know. And I'm going to do everything I can to make her happy. That's a promise."
He studies me for another long moment. Then something in his expression eases slightly. "Okay. But we're not good. Not yet. You want my blessing? You have to prove it first."
"I will."
It's not a full reconciliation. But it's a start. Better than I hoped for an hour ago.
Connor picks up his coffee. "Game starts at noon. Don't be late."
"I won't."
I grab my gear and head out. The conversation loops through my head as I drive to the rink. Not perfect. But maybe that's okay. Maybe trust is something you rebuild slowly, one day at a time.
Starting today.
The rink is already buzzing when I arrive at ten thirty. Parking lot half full, news vans setting up near the entrance, volunteers hanging banners for the children's hospital. Inside, the air smells like ice and popcorn and possibility.
I head for the locker room and find half my teammates already there. Cade is taping his stick. Alexei is stretching in the corner. And leaning against the wall with his trademark smirk is Hayes Matthews, the cocky winger from Chicago who somehow talked his way onto the roster last week.
"Blackwood." Hayes straightens when he sees me. "Heard you've been playing house in small-town America. How's that working out?"
"Better than Chicago, probably."
Cade snorts. "He's been insufferable all morning. Ignore him."
"Can't help it if I bring energy to every room." Hayes grins and drops onto the bench beside me. "So which one's the girl?"
My head snaps up. "What?"
"Come on. You've been checking your phone every five minutes since we got here. Either you're day-trading or there's a girl." His grin widens. "My money's on girl."
"Drop it, Matthews."
"That's a yes." He leans back, looking pleased with himself. "She coming to the game?"
I don't answer. Just focus on lacing my skates and trying to ignore the fact that my hands won't quite stay steady.
"She is." Hayes stands and heads for the door. "I'm gonna find her in the crowd. See what kind of woman makes Ryder Blackwood nervous."
"Don't even think about it."
"Relax. I'm just curious. Scout's honor."
He disappears before I can tell him he was definitely never a Boy Scout.
Cade moves to sit beside me. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just thinking."
"About the game or about whatever comes after?"
I look at him. Cade and I have played together for three years. Been roommates on road trips. He knows me better than most.
"Both."
"The girl from the stands? Section C, row five? Cream sweater?"
My pulse kicks up. "How do you—"
"You look at her like she's the only person in the building." He grips my shoulder. "Whatever you're planning, good luck."
I'm almost dressed when one of the game organizers appears in the doorway. "Blackwood. Someone wants a word. Backstage."
My stomach tightens. Connor. Again.
The backstage corridor smells like concrete and old ice. Connor leans against the wall, arms crossed. Not playing today, but here to support. His jaw is set but his eyes aren't as hard as they were this morning.
"Connor."
He pushes off the wall. "Emma's here. With Lucy. They're in section C."
"I know."
"She looks happy. Really happy." He exhales hard. "I haven't seen her like that since before Mom died."
I wait. Let him say what he needs to say.
"This morning, when you said you'd prove it..." He meets my eyes. "Going public today. That's how you prove it."
"Yeah."
"The press is going to go crazy. Sienna will probably lose her mind. It's going to be a circus."
"I know."
"And you're doing it anyway."
"I'm done hiding. Lucy deserves better than secrets." I hold his gaze. "She deserves everything."
Connor's quiet for a long moment. Then something in his expression softens. Not quite approval. But closer than it was.
He claps my shoulder. Less bruising than this morning. Almost friendly. "Don't screw this up out there."
"The game or the rest?"
"Both." A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "Good luck, man."
He starts to leave, then pauses. Looks back.
"For what it's worth? You make her happy. That counts for something."
Then he's gone and I'm left in the corridor with my pulse pounding and something warm expanding in my chest.
Not forgiveness. Not yet.
But the beginning of it.
The national anthem plays and my skates touch ice for the first time in three weeks.
The crowd roars. Fifteen hundred people packed into a rink built for a thousand.
Standing room only. Kids in hockey jerseys pressed against the glass.
Banners for Pine Hollow Children's Hospital hanging from the rafters.
Lucy did this. Put this whole thing together. Called in favors and made spreadsheets and convinced an entire town to show up on a Tuesday afternoon three days before New Year's.
The game is a mix—four NHL players split between two teams of local players and alumni. Exhibition style, just for fun. The kind of game where everyone gets to play alongside pros and kids get to see their heroes up close.
I scan the crowd and find section C. There she is in that cream sweater, Emma beside her, both on their feet and cheering.
Lucy catches me looking and smiles. Waves. My chest goes tight.
The puck drops.
Charity games are supposed to be relaxed.
Fun. Low stakes. But old habits die hard and within five minutes we're playing like it's game seven of the finals.
Cade steals the puck and sends it up the boards.
I catch it on my stick and feel my shoulder protest just slightly as I pull back for a pass.
Not pain. Just awareness that I'm still healing.