Chapter 18 Sierra
SIERRA
“Merry Christmas, Sierra!” One of our regulars lifts his glass to me.
“You too, Pete.”
Mile High is bustling as the game comes on. Every one of the half dozen TVs is tuned to the stadium right down the road where the Kodiaks are getting ready to host LA.
“Your dad said you might not get back.”
“It was pretty close,” I admit as I refill the ice in the tray in front of me.
Pete laughs. “It’s the holiday, and there’s a game. That’s all I care about. As long as we beat LA.”
Pete turns back to his friends, all wearing jerseys. One of the guys has a Santa hat.
The words remind me of what my dad said. They’re not here for me.
My chest feels hollow.
The past couple of days were amazing, but that’s not my world. Just like I got swept up in the holiday spirit, I got swept up in Ryan.
On the screen, the announcers finish their pregame remarks, and the broadcast cuts to the team intros.
LA is out first, jogging onto the court to hollers from the home crowd I can see but not hear because of the muted TVs.
Next is our team.
The crowd is on its feet—mostly Denver fans wearing purple holiday sweaters. This is everyone’s idea of the best time. I was listening to stories on the radio earlier of how people got tickets and what they did to get them.
The Kodiaks’ starters appear one by one.
Atlas with a one-handed wave to the crowd, his eyes cool and focused.
Miles, running and tilting his head to one side then the other.
Jay, clapping to get him into the headspace.
Ryan.
My heart skips as he trots onto the court.
Is he as distracted as I am?
I analyze his tilted chin and smile to acknowledge the crowd.
I could be in the box right now with my friends.
But I have to look out for myself. If we tried and failed, I’d not only feel like a total idiot, but it would risk screwing up everything I’ve worked for here.
I glance around to see where the patrons’ attention is directed, then discreetly turn the nearest TV to another channel.
A couple of people protest. “Sierra! What’re you doing?”
“It’s on the other five,” I remind them, pointing at the next closest screen.
Flicking through channels, I settle on Nat Geo. Some bunnies are playing in the forest.
Good. Bunnies are good.
I throw myself into work, pouring beers and mixing the occasional cocktail.
It works pretty well, until the bar erupts with cheers when the Kodiaks score or boos when LA does.
After the first quarter, the Kodiaks are up by a little.
“Did you see that play?” Pete taps the bar excitedly. “Ryan’s going to be the next franchise player.”
“He’s earning his keep, but I wouldn’t go that far,” one of his friends counters.
“What do you think, Sierra?”
The bottle of whisky under the bar is calling my name.
It’s not clear whether a drink of it would clear my head of Ryan or make me remember the times we were together.
I ignore the bottle and force myself to watch the replay: Jay moves down the court with the ball, Miles streaks toward the perimeter for a three, Jay fakes passing to Miles and goes instead to Ryan, who cuts toward the basket for a dunk.
“I think he loves the game and this town and we’d be lucky to have him,” I say.
During halftime, I appreciate the relief of not having Ryan on the screen every second.
“Sierra?”
I look up to see a courier in a Santa hat holding a purple-wrapped package with a red bow. “I didn’t order anything.”
“It’s a gift. Can you please sign?”
I reluctantly comply, thanking the guy, and set the package on the bar.
“What is it?” Pete demands.
“I know what comes in that paper!” one of his friends says.
“I’m not opening it.”
“You have to!” the guys insist. “It’s Christmas!”
I wipe down the bar so everything is extra clean, then I take out the card.
“For my favorite grinch. So I can be with you in spirit. – R”
My fingers itch as I tug the bow loose and open the beautiful paper.
Inside is a purple sweater.
“Ugly Christmas sweater!” the guys chorus.
“What’s on the back?” Pete prods, nodding toward the sweater.
I turn the hoodie over, and my breath lodges in my throat.
It’s Ryan’s jersey number.
Hollers go up.
“They haven’t ever done one player before.” Pete turns to his friend. “Have they?”
“Let me check. A guy from my work got tickets to the game.” He sends off a text.
My stomach flips over, my hand stroking the numbers on the hoodie.
“Ahah! That’s not the sweater. It has ‘Merry Bearmas’ on it.” He holds up a photo on the screen. “So, how’d you get a Ryan one?”
Damn it.
It didn’t cost him anything ridiculous, I remind myself. He’s loaded and could order a thousand with the snap of his fingers. But he wants you wearing his name.
It’s easy for a guy to claim a girl as his when he doesn’t have to be hers too.
He’s trying to mess with me. Except… that’s not his style. Every moment he’s ever been with me, he’s been genuine.
“It’s an inside joke, I guess.” I set it under the bar carefully, next to the whisky.
The next time I look up, the rabbits are gone.
Instead, there’s a bear.
Then a few of them.
Subtitles appear at the bottom of the screen, where the narrator explains how bear siblings often look out for each other even after they leave their parents. Sometimes they even adopt new bears as their own.
I’m a lone wolf, but that doesn’t mean I want to be forever.
I could be part of this group.
With Ryan, I feel as though I don’t need to become someone different, or prove myself, or blend in, or hell—even stand out.
The second half starts, and I reluctantly turn my Nat Geo TV back to the Kodiaks right as they do a close-up on Ryan.
I take a deep breath and exhale. I know what I need to do.
“Guys, as soon as the game is over, I’m closing.”