Chapter 20
20
TYLER
A little after 11 am on Saturday morning, I pull up outside the dorm where Ryan lives, along with the other members of the baseball team. He’s waiting outside, and he raises his hand as I park on the side of the road.
He opens the passenger door and gets in. “What brought this on?”
“My way of saying thank you,” I reply.
I’d messaged him a couple of days ago and invited him to join me at a Seahawks game. Even though we haven’t shared many personal details with each other throughout the years, I know he’s an NFL fan. He’d have played football rather than baseball if he had any talent for the sport.
“For?” he asks.
I glance over as he closes the door. “Taking such good care of Echo since she started college.”
I rejoin the quiet stream of traffic and head toward Soldier Field stadium.
He tenses. I understand why. Our arrangement has never sat well with him. Honestly, there have been times when I didn’t like it either, but it’s been necessary.
“I don’t need your thanks,” he says. “I was paid to do it, and I was glad to. I know this started off as a job, but she’s important to me.”
“Good.” I’d hoped he’d come to care for her over time, and based on his defensiveness toward her, I’d assumed as much, but it’s nice to have it confirmed.
I stop at a traffic light and neither of us speaks. When the light changes color, Ryan sighs.
“Are you going to tell her the truth?” he asks, resting his hands on his thighs and then shifting them as if he can’t decide what to do with them.
“I will soon.” When I figure out how to break the news. With this, and the other things she needs to know, there’s a chance I’ll overwhelm her, so it’s best if I don’t dump it all on her at once.
“Could you give me a heads up before you do?” He hesitates, then adds, “She might be upset, and I want to be prepared for that.”
“I’ll make it clear that I only paid you to keep her safe,” I assure him. “So she knows your friendship is genuine.”
He snorts, his expression cynical. “With you manipulating things behind the scenes, is anything in Echo’s life truly genuine?”
“Fuck you.”
He grimaces. “Sorry, man. I know you mean well. I just feel for her, and I’m not sure she’ll care about the technicality.”
“I’ll make sure she isn’t hurt again,” I promise. “So, do you intend to stick around her?”
With me at Newbury, there’s no need for him to continue working on my behalf. He’s been my eyes and ears when it comes to Echo for the past three years. He’s watched over her, scared off men who weren’t worthy, and ensured her safety. But now I can do that myself—if she’ll let me.
Ryan nods. “I’ll graduate at the end of this year, but until then, I’ll be around…if she doesn’t send me packing.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” In the past, I might have been jealous of her having another man in her life. Honestly, I’m still a possessive bastard, but I have nothing to fear from Ryan.
The stadium looms up ahead. I pull into a parking garage and find a spot on the second level. We get out and take the stairs down. It’s a short walk to the stadium, and we join the shorter, more quickly moving line for premium ticket holders.
The sky is gray overhead, but it’s warm. The scent of fried food is the best possible advertising for the carts selling hot dog and fries speckling the area.
“We’re VIPs today, are we?” Ryan asks as we’re ushered through.
I guide him to the elevator that will take us to the upper floor. “We have a suite.”
His eyes widen, and he grins boyishly. “Really?”
The doors glide shut.
I shrug. “Go big or go home.”
He shakes his head. “You are something. I’m still trying to figure out if it’s a good something though.”
“Let me know when you work it out.”
He rolls his eyes.
When we reach the top, the elevator opens onto a luxuriously appointed viewing room positioned above the rows of seats circling the stadium. The wall facing the stadium is entirely made of glass, providing a great view of the action on the field.
A bar is set into the other wall, and a bartender stands quietly behind it, ready to leap into action if we have any requests.
“Over here.” I gesture to our seats, which are black leather, comfortably padded, and adjacent to a round table upon which sits a platter of delicate hors d'oeuvres.
Ryan whistles. “This is insane.” He stands in front of the glass wall and peers out. “Wow. I thought it would be hard to see from here, but it’s not.”
I lower myself onto one of the seats. “Because we don’t have to fight to watch over everyone else’s heads.”
“But that’s part of the experience,” he protests.
“Heathen,” I tease.
“Trust fund baby,” he shoots back.
“Speaking of,” I say. “Order whatever you like from the bar. I’ll pick up the tab at the end.”
He grins for a moment, but then it fades. “Are you sure? I don’t mind paying for a drink or two.”
I suspect he’ll think differently once he sees the price tags.
“Just do it,” I tell him.
The grin returns. “If you insist.”
The strangest warm sensation fills my chest. Is this how it feels to do something nice for someone who doesn’t expect it? Damn. Perhaps I should have been a better person sooner.
We chat idly until the game begins. At that point, any chill Ryan had goes out the window. He shouts, waves his arms, and lectures the players as if they can hear him. I chuckle to myself as he goes off on the ref, attracting more than a few sideward glances.
I yell once or twice, just so he doesn’t feel out of place. Football isn’t really my thing, but I can appreciate the athleticism of it. An athlete is an athlete, whatever they play.
At half time, I get a beer for Ryan and a Coke for myself and start picking at some kind of vegetable curry wrapped in leaves that’s been placed in front of us in bite-sized portions.
“What is that?” Ryan asks, his nose wrinkling.
I shrug. “I dunno, but it tastes okay.”
He lifts a piece to his face, sniffs, and sets it down again. “I think I’ll stick with things I can identify.”
The elevator opens and a pair of middle-aged men enter. One of them is going on about draft picks. They pass behind us and move on.
Ryan turns to me. “Do you plan to enter the NHL draft?”
“Yeah.” Hockey is the only thing I know how to do. It’s the most straightforward option for me. “What about you? You’re aiming for the majors?”
He nods and drinks from his glass of beer. “I am. I have a couple of prospects, but if they don’t pan out, I’m confident I’ll at least be able to hit the minors and work my way up from there.”
“True.” I suppose he has that option in the same way I could enter the AHL. I have no intention of doing so though. I may not be the NHL’s number one draft pick, but I’ll be surprised if I’m not in the top ten.
My hatred of Dad fueled me the past few years, turning me into a machine on the ice—as did my desire to set up the best possible life I could for Echo. It was always clear to me that my best chance to be with her was to enter into an NHL contract with a large enough salary that I could afford to protect my family from Dad.
Not that he’s an issue anymore.
Perhaps I should feel bad about his death, but the miserable bastard got what he deserved. My occasional pangs of guilt are misplaced, and I do my best to ignore them.
“So…” Ryan says as the silence drags on between us. “What will you do if you and Echo get back together and then you’re drafted somewhere hundreds of miles away?”
“First, I’ll ask if she’ll consider changing universities. If not, then I’ll turn it down.”
He looks skeptical. “Just like that? You’d turn down the NHL for a girl?”
I gaze out over the stadium, where half time is soon to end. “Yeah. I’d like to join the NHL. Hockey is all I know. But I don’t need the money, and hockey isn’t more important to me than she is. I’m sure I could work as a coach or an agent somewhere nearby to keep myself busy.”
I’ve considered doing that anyway. I’m particularly interested in coaching for one of the charities that works with lower income families, but I’d be disappointed not to get to play at least a few years with the NHL first. There will be decades after I retire from professional sports that I can dedicate to the cause.
“I’m impressed,” Ryan says. “I don’t know if I’d do the same if someone offered me the choice between a major league contract and love.”
I chuckle. “Everyone is different. Maybe if you met the girl first, you’d make that choice, or maybe if you knew you wouldn’t have to worry about finances then you would. My position and yours aren’t the same.”
“Don’t I know it. I appreciate what you’ve done for me though. Taking care of Echo hasn’t felt like work, but the fact you’ve paid me well for it means I’ve been able to focus on my grades and my game rather than having to run around with part-time jobs like some of my teammates do.”
“I’m just glad you were willing to do it.”
Play resumes, and he focuses on the action while I surreptitiously study him.
It was difficult to find someone for this role. It had to be someone who needed money, was in some of the same classes as Echo, was physically capable of protecting her, and whose personality I thought would be well-matched to hers but who wouldn’t fall in love with her.
Ryan has been a lifesaver. I’d have paid him as much as he asked for, provided I was able to get it out of Dad. Although Dad loosened the purse strings a little after I broke up with Echo.
Perhaps it was his way of rewarding me——I don’t know—but I appreciated him being freer with money and fulfilling his part of our deal by setting Echo up to have a college experience relatively free of financial limitations.
Not that the scholarship she was awarded could be in any way linked back to him, but I knew it was his doing. It was one of the only good things he ever did, even though it came on the back of one of the worst.
I grab another curry leaf thing and bite into it, enjoying the spicy flavors. Most of my cooking at home is bland. On the field, the Seahawks score a field goal. Ryan pumps his fist. I just smile and return to my musings.
I always wondered if Dad felt a little guilty about what happened to Echo. After all, if I’d been with her, she might have been safe. I was surprised when he allowed me to set up ongoing legal advice for her following the assault—although I did have to threaten to get caught with drugs before he signed the paperwork.
I knew he’d be furious if I ruined my chances at getting onto a good college hockey team and continuing to the NHL. For the first time in my life, I’d had leverage over him because I no longer cared about what happened to me.
Players run back and forth, a blur of black and blue. Ryan hollers again, and it takes me a moment to figure out what’s going on. After that, I try to keep my mind on the game, but it’s hard not to dwell on how Echo might react when she learns how I’ve been interfering with her life.
By the time the game ends, Ryan is hoarse from shouting and my temples are beginning to throb. He’s a good guy, but fucking hell, no one warned me how loud he can be when he gets worked up.
On the way out, we’re heading away from the stadium when a familiar voice calls my name. I spin around. Soraya is with a group of girls walking in the same direction as us, but twenty yards back.
I stop, and Ryan does the same. As his gaze lands on the girls, his eyes narrow and he shoots me a sidelong look, perhaps wondering if I’ve been sneaking around behind Echo’s back.
“Hey, Ty. I didn’t expect to see you here,” Soraya says, stealing a peek at Ryan from beneath her lashes. “Who’s this?”
Ryan folds his arms across his chest, his posture stiff, and his arched eyebrow asks how I’m going to explain away the fact a group of eighteen- and nineteen-year-old girls are on friendly terms with me.
“This is Ryan,” I tell her. “Ryan, this is my baby sister, Soraya.”
“Oh.” He unwinds his arms and runs one hand through his hair. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” She raises her eyebrow at me. “I didn’t know Ty had any friends here.”
“I met him through Echo,” I say, which is only a lie in some lights.
“And now you’re bonding.” A smile spreads across her face. “How cute.”
I scowl, and Ryan shuffles from foot to foot, obviously as uncomfortable with being called ‘cute’ as I am.
“Do you study at Newbury?” Ryan asks, glancing at the other girls, who are absorbed by something on the redhead’s phone, before focusing on Soraya. There’s a gleam of interest in his eye that I don’t like.
Soraya nods. “Sociology. Then, once I graduate, I’ll go on to law school.”
His eyes warm with approval. “Nice. You must be smart.”
She blushes. “I do all right.”
Oh, no.
Hell, no. The way they’re looking at each other is not acceptable.
“We need to go,” I say abruptly, grabbing Ryan’s arm and yanking him away from her. “Bye, Soraya. Study hard.”
Ryan raises one hand in a wave. “See you around.”
“No, you will not,” I hiss as I drag him into the parking building. “She’s too young for you.”
He shrugs. “A couple of years isn’t a big deal.”
I level my finger at him. “My sister is off limits.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “But when I’m a bigshot baseball player, you’ll regret warning me off.”
I just laugh. “Sorry, buddy. Soraya doesn’t need a guy with money. She has plenty of her own.”
He drops the subject, and we chat about our respective sports during the drive back. I drop him off outside his place, but before he gets out of the car, he turns to me.
“Don’t break Echo,” he says. “She’s vulnerable.”
My gut rolls. “I’ll do my best not to.”
But some of the secrets I’m keeping are heavy enough that I’m not sure our fragile new relationship will hold up underneath their weight.