Chapter 48
forty-eight
RYAN
“Really?” Jay says, not even looking up from the clipboard he’s studying. “That’s what you went with?”
“Wren made it for me.” I shrug. “What was I supposed to do, say no?”
“Yes. You were supposed to say no.”
Calla appears next to him carrying what looks like a hundred gift bags stuffed with Hope Pantry merchandise. “I think it’s sweet,” she says, giving me an approving nod. “Very supportive-boyfriend energy.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Jay mutters, but there’s no real heat in it.
The arena is buzzing with activity. Crew members are setting up cameras and adjusting lights.
Volunteers are arranging tables full of food donation boxes.
In the middle of it all, Wren moves like she was born to do this.
She’s wearing her headset and carrying her clipboard, directing traffic with the kind of quiet confidence that still floors me every time I see it.
When I told her I wanted to do a charity hockey game for Hope Pantry, she didn’t hesitate. Didn’t ask why it mattered to me or whether it would be good for the show. She just said yes and then made it happen with the kind of efficiency that makes producers weep with joy.
She catches my eye from across the ice and grins, pointing at my jersey. I give her a thumbs-up, and she laughs before turning back to whatever crisis she’s managing.
“You’re so whipped,” Ellie says, skating up to me while Jake trails behind, looking slightly terrified.
“I’m supportive,” I correct.
“You’re wearing a jersey with her name on it.”
“And?”
“And she organized an entire charity event because you asked her to.”
“Your point?”
Ellie just shakes her head and skates away, but she’s smiling. Jake gives me a sympathetic look as he hands her a helmet.
“She’s not wrong,” he says quietly. “But for what it’s worth, I think it’s nice. Ellie talks about you and Wren all the time. Says you two are disgustingly happy.”
“We are disgustingly happy. Just like you and my sister.”
He cracks a smile. “Good for you, man.”
Coach T and Mrs. T are looking on from their front-row seats. I skate over to them, tapping on the glass and then flashing them a heart made with my gloved fingers. Coach T smiles and puts his arm around his wife, who is beaming. She cups her hands around her mouth. “We love you, Ryan!”
God, them being here is just the icing on the cake. My mom may have ditched Ellie and me, but the Thompsons were the best substitute that I could’ve ever dreamed of. I grin and point at them each again.
“You’re the best!” I shout.
Coach T looks away, uncomfortable, and mumbles to himself. I imagine it’s something like “Love you, too.” Evelyn kisses his cheek and pats his hand. I skate backward, my heart racing.
All my favorite people are here right now.
I watch Ellie fire a puck into the goal with the focused intensity she brings to everything.
She’s wearing a Hope Pantry jersey too, but hers says “TEAM CAPTAIN” on the back.
When I asked if she wanted to be part of this charity game, she said yes before I could even finish explaining what it was for.
That’s my sister. Always ready to help, always ready to step up. Even when stepping up means playing hockey on live television with a bunch of reality show contestants who barely know how to stop without hitting the boards.
“You nervous?” I ask her.
“About playing hockey? Please. I could skate circles around half these people in my sleep.”
“About the cameras.”
She considers this. “A little. But Wren said they’d mostly focus on the game, not on individual people. And Jake will be taking photos for the behind-the-scenes stuff, so at least one camera guy won’t be a stranger.”
Her boyfriend Jake gives a little wave from where he’s adjusting his camera settings. He’s been documenting everything today, partly for the show and partly because Ellie asked him to. I like that about him. He shows up when she needs him, no questions asked.
“Besides,” Ellie continues, “this is for Hope Pantry. This matters to you, so it matters to me.”
“I can’t believe Wren put this together,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s way better than I could have done.”
This whole event exists because Wren loves me enough to make my dreams happen. I mentioned to Wren that I wanted to do something for Hope Pantry. The next thing I know, here I am. That’s love .
“Ryan.” Wren appears beside me like she was summoned by my thoughts. “We’re about to start. You ready?”
I kiss her on the lips simply because I can. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good. Because I have a surprise.”
Before I can ask what she means, she skates out to center ice and taps the microphone that’s been set up there. The crowd quiets down, and the cameras focus on her.
“Hi, everyone,” she says, her voice carrying clearly through the arena. “Thank you all for being here today to support Hope Pantry. This organization does incredible work in our community, providing food and support to families who need it most.”
She looks beautiful out there. Confident and poised in a way that makes it hard to believe this is the same woman who used to hide behind clipboards and production schedules. She’s wearing a Hope Pantry jersey over leggings, and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail that swishes when she moves.
“I could stand here and tell you statistics about food insecurity,” she continues. “I could talk about the importance of community support. But there’s someone else who should speak today. The person who made this event possible because this cause means everything to him.”
My stomach drops.
“Ryan Haart,” she says, turning to look directly at me. “Would you like to say a few words?”
The crowd starts applauding, and I realize I don’t have a choice. Wren is holding out the microphone with a look that says she believes in me completely, and suddenly I’m skating toward her without really deciding to.
“I hate you,” I whisper as I take the mic.
“No, you don’t,” she whispers back, squeezing my arm before skating away.
I look out at the crowd. Cameras, lights, and faces I recognize, and faces I don’t. My mouth goes dry.
“Um,” I start, and my voice cracks a little. “Hi.”
Smooth, Haart. Real smooth.
I clear my throat and try again. “Most of you know me as a hockey player. Some of you know me from that reality show where I made a complete ass of myself on national television.”
That gets a laugh, and I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders.
“But before I was any of those things, I was just a kid trying to figure out how to take care of his little sister.” I find Ellie in the crowd, and she gives me an encouraging nod.
“Not to get too deep here, but after my mom abandoned us, Hope Pantry saved us. Sometimes you can’t afford groceries and rent and everything else life throws at you. ”
The arena has gone completely quiet.
“Hope Pantry was the place that made sure we didn’t go hungry. Not just once or twice, but for months. I used to hide food in my backpack so Ellie wouldn’t see how little we had at home. I was young and trying to be the man of the house and I was failing.”
My voice catches and I have to pause for a second. Wren is watching me from the sidelines with tears in her eyes. Jay has stopped pretending to look at his clipboard and is staring at me with something that might be respect.
“The people at Hope Pantry didn’t just give us food. They gave us dignity. They never made us feel ashamed for needing help. They treated us like neighbors, like family. And when we got adopted by the Thompsons, the staff at Hope Pantry celebrated with us.”
I take a deep breath. “I never thought I’d be in a position to give back to them.
Hell, five years ago I was still too proud to admit I’d ever needed help in the first place.
But being here today, with all of you, supporting this organization that gave me and my sister a chance to survive and thrive… it means everything.”
The crowd is silent, hanging on every word.
“This isn’t about hockey,” I say, my voice getting stronger. “This isn’t about reality TV or celebrities or any of that. This is about making sure the next scared fifteen-year-old kid gets to eat dinner without feeling ashamed. This is about community. This is about taking care of each other.”
I pause, looking around the arena at all the faces watching me.
“So let’s play some hockey and raise some money and make sure Hope Pantry can keep doing what they do best. Taking care of people when they need it most.”
The crowd erupts. People are on their feet, cheering and clapping. I hand the microphone back to Wren, who has to wipe her eyes before she can speak.
“Thank you, Ryan,” she says into the mic. “Now let’s play hockey.”
The next hour is controlled chaos. The scrimmage is supposed to be a friendly game between reality show contestants, current and former players, and family members. What it actually turns into is a beautiful disaster.
Jake spends most of the game behind his camera, documenting everything from the sidelines. Calla cheers from what we’ve dubbed the penalty box, even though nobody’s actually getting penalties. Ellie scores three goals and trash-talks everyone who gets in her way.
“Come on, Jake!” she yells at one point. “Put the camera down and get out here!”
“I’m documenting!” he calls back.
“Document from the ice!”
Jay “accidentally” bodychecks me twice, and I let him because I figure I probably deserve it for something. The second time, he grins and says, “Just making sure you’re paying attention.”
“Message received,” I tell him, picking myself up off the ice.
Wren is everywhere at once, playing defense and directing cameras and making sure the donation boxes are visible in every shot. She organized all of this because I asked her to. Because Hope Pantry matters to me, which means it matters to her.
When she skates up to me during a break in play, I can’t resist trying to trip her. She sees it coming and dodges, laughing.
“Really mature, Haart.”
“You love it.”
“I really don’t.”
But she’s smiling when she says it, and when play resumes, she checks me into the boards.
“Penalty!” I call out dramatically. “Unnecessary roughness!”
“There are no penalties in charity hockey,” she calls back, skating away.
“Then I surrender,” I announce, lying flat on the ice with my arms spread wide. “I am defeated by the superior athletic prowess of Wren Rustin.”
The cameras eat it up. The crowd loves it. But underneath all the performance, there’s something real. Something that feels like family.
After the game, when the cameras have stopped rolling and the crowd has dispersed, the six of us end up at center ice.
Ellie is flushed with excitement, her jersey damp with sweat.
Jake is scrolling through the photos he took, showing Calla his favorites.
Jay is talking to one of the Hope Pantry volunteers about setting up regular donations.
Wren wraps her arms around me from behind and presses her face into my back.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?”
“For making this happen. For caring about something just because I care about it.”
She turns me around in her arms so I’m facing her. “You don’t need to thank me for loving you.”
“Yeah, I do. You turned my crazy idea into something real. Something that’s actually going to help people.”
“You did the hard part. You got up there and told your story.”
“Only because you believed I could.”
She stands on her tiptoes to kiss me, and I can taste salt from the tears she cried during my speech.
“I’m proud of you,” she says against my lips.
Before I can respond, Ellie crashes into both of us, wrapping us in a hug that nearly knocks us over.
“That was amazing,” she says. “I’m so proud of both of you.”
Jake appears next to us, camera in hand. “That speech was incredible, man. Really moving.”
“Thanks. And thanks for documenting everything today. Ellie’s right, you’re good at this.”
“It’s easy when you’ve got good subjects.”
Jay claps me on the shoulder, and when I look at him, his expression is different than it was this morning. Still gruff, still protective, but warmer, somehow.
“Good speech,” he says simply.
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. You did good today.”
Calla appears beside Wren and pulls her into a hug. “Okay,” she says, loud enough for all of us to hear, “he’s growing on me.”
“Just growing on you?” Wren asks.
“Fine. He’s been around and I’ve liked him. Ryan’s a likable guy. But now, I like him for you . He’s good for you and he’s good for causes that matter. It’s a home run.”
“That’s high praise coming from Calla,” Jay tells me. “She doesn’t like anyone.”
“That isn’t true. I like plenty of people,” Calla protests. “I just have standards.”
We’re all laughing when one of the photographers asks if we want a group photo at center ice.
We arrange ourselves without really thinking about it.
Wren in her Hope Pantry jersey, me next to her.
Ellie and Jake on either side of us, bundled in their Hope Pantry gear.
Jay and Calla standing behind us, his arm around her shoulders.
I get Coach T and Evelyn out onto the ice.
It wouldn’t be a family picture without them.
As the photographer counts down, I look around at these people who’ve somehow become my family.
Ellie, who’s been my constant since the day she was born.
Jay, who’s moved from tolerating me to actually approving of me.
Calla, who’s decided I’m worthy of her sister-in-law.
Jake, who fits into our chaos like he was always meant to be here.
Coach T and Evelyn, standing between me and Ellie.
And Wren. Wren, who made my dream happen just because she loves me. I put my arm around her waist and love the little shiver that I can feel running down her spine. My beautiful, smart, funny girlfriend.
This isn’t some faux-reality show. This is my life.
I’m the luckiest man in the world. And I know without a shadow of a doubt that one day soon, I’m going to make this woman my wife.