Chapter 10
RYAN
“Rookie!” Snow hits the back of my head. “You good?”
I adjust the tree in my grip to look at Miles. “Yeah. Why?”
“You stopped walking, and you have this dumb expression on your face.”
I force my feet to move again as we head back toward the cabin.
My mind is still back there in the snow.
Last Christmas, I was at the bar with the guys after the game. I did Sierra a solid, then on impulse doubled back to make sure she was okay. I was not expecting the hot-as-hell fever dream that went down after.
Had I imagined it more than once? Sure.
But the reality of Sierra was a thousand times better.
The past twelve months, I’ve been thinking about how right it felt to be with her but telling myself she promptly forgot our hookup, that it didn’t stick with her like it did me.
Now, I know that’s not true.
I’ve had a crush on the team’s unofficial bartender for a long time. Everyone jokes about players wanting to hook up, and sure, it’s easier than keeping a serious relationship going given the demanding schedule.
Somehow, though, all I wanted from Sierra was more.
More physical, but also more of her laugh. More of her smile. More of the kindness she thinks she hides behind toughness.
I kissed Sierra because hearing her talk about other holidays, seeing how cute she was, I couldn’t keep my hands off her.
When I touched her today, our chemistry was every bit as alive as it was a year ago. She responded just as enthusiastically.
But the moment I press for more, she pumps the brakes.
Probably because Sierra has a line of guys and girls every night who’d love to get with her. Why should she treat me any differently?
“You and Nova disappeared earlier,” I say.
“That a question?” Clay grunts.
“No. You got any tips?” I hear myself ask. “About women, I mean. Because you guys seem really good.”
Miles is on the other side, Jay behind me.
“Who’ve you got your eye on?” Jay asks.
“No one,” I lie. Sierra would gut me if she knew I was asking for advice about her. “I think I want that—the right girl.”
“You’re twenty-three.”
“Twenty-four now,” I correct.
“Right. You still wouldn’t know the right girl if she walked up to you in your jersey.”
“That’s bullshit.” I say it louder than I mean to and feel all the eyes turn toward me. “Just because you’ve got a few years on me, you think you know your mind better than I know mine.”
“You stick around the league a few years and you realize everything happens at a different pace. It’s like getting on a ride at the fair. Takes you two seasons just to get your footing,” Miles offers.
“It’s hard,” Clay says finally. “Basketball and the right person.”
“But?”
“But you do it because when you meet her, you can’t imagine not doing it.”
“What about you?” I ask Miles.
“With Brooke, I know we could each survive on our own. But we don’t want to. She makes the highs and the lows better,” he says. “On the good days, there’s always someone to celebrate with. But on the shitty days, I have someone to laugh with.”
I can picture being that.
“Why don’t you ask me?” Jay protests.
“Last I looked, you don’t have a girl.”
Miles bursts out laughing.
“I could.”
A muffled sound from behind us has me looking around.
“Do you hear it too?” I ask.
“No—wait, yeah.” We put down the tree and listen.
“It’s probably Trista. She heard you saying you want a girlfriend, and she’s running over here.”
“It doesn’t sound human,” Jay decides nervously.
“Probably nothing.” The cabin’s fifty meters up ahead, and I nod to the tree. “Let’s get this inside.”