21. Ryan
21
Ryan
I woke up conflicted. A part of me in hopeful eagerness, a part of me in dread.
When Emma got up to leave last night, I thought I’d gone too far, but she assured me I hadn’t. And I know Emma. If I had, she would’ve told me. What she did say was that she needed time to think. I get that. I’m just impatient.
After spending hours on the ice this morning, I’m now back in the house and standing under the roasting hot water in my ensuite shower. I need to freshen up, for sure, but I also need to warm up. It’s freezing out there. The hot water pounds down on my skin, breathing life back into my muscles, but while I know I have to warm up, my mind is on more important things than being cold.
Just as I finish washing my hair, I hear a loud thumping noise. For a second, I don’t know what it is. Sticking my head out of the streaming water to try and hear it more clearly, I strain, and then it comes again.
Whump. Whump. Whump.
Someone’s banging on my door. Clearly, it’s not Emma. She went to work not long ago. It has to be my delightful brother. He rarely comes to this side of the house, but evidently, something’s eating him, and I’ll have no choice but to suffer his self-righteousness, whatever it is about.
Jumping out of the shower, I’m wrapping the towel around my waist when the sound comes again.
Whump! Whump! Whump!
“Alright. Alright. I’m coming,” I bark.
While I have no interest in talking to him, I know he won’t quit until I do.
“What?” I bark, flinging my door open.
Thomas has a face like thunder, and barging into my room, he growls. “You’ve done it again, haven’t you?”
“Hey. Come in.” I fling an open gesture into the bedroom. “Make yourself at home,” I drawl sarcastically.
“What is wrong with you?” he barks, spinning around to glare at me.
I slam the door shut—I don’t want anyone else to wander into my room on a whim—and turn to face him. Anger is rising in my throat at his intrusion, and his attack sure isn’t helping.
“What are you talking about?” I demand.
“You can’t help yourself,” he rants. “It’s like you have some disease, some mental affliction.” He stabs his finger into his temple. “Even when everything is going your way like it usually does,” he spits, “you still find a way to mess it up and hurt everyone else in the process.”
I’m now just gawking at him because I still have no clue what the heck he is on about, and I’ll be honest, I’m struggling to curb this rising rage.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I bellow.
Shaking with anger but not saying another word, my brother lifts the newspaper he has gripped in his hand and shoves it in my face. When I see the picture, my mouth drops open, my eyes fly wide, and a panic washes through me. I can feel my heart suddenly jump a few hundred beats, and a cold sweat covers my whole body.
Snatching the paper out of Thomas’s hand, I read the headline.
Star Hockey Player Likes to Play the Odds
“No!” I gasp. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening.”
I feel sick to my stomach as I read the small article, describing me as a player off the ice as well as on. The journalist is a snarky idiot with remarks that only make me angrier.
Let’s face it, Ryan Steele is not the greatest ice hockey player in the world. Maybe he feels like he needs to compensate for his lack of talent. One thing’s for certain: it looks like the wedding bells have come crashing to the ground at great speed.
“What did you think was going to happen?” Thomas spits, cutting into the silence. “You’re an idiot. A selfish idiot. You always were, and you always will be.”
But Thomas is wrong. This is all wrong. “No,” I shake my head frantically, “This didn’t happen.”
“You could have fooled me.” Thomas bares his teeth, throwing a hand at the paper.
“I never saw Megan after that night she showed up in the bar. I swear. This is—” I look back at the picture. “This is fake. It has to be. I never went anywhere—”
“Oh, come on, Ryan,” Thomas barks. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable, for heaven’s sake.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You are,” he bellows, snarling at me like a rabid dog. “I knew you were going to wreck this. I knew it. You’ve humiliated Emma just to get your five minutes with Megan. And what did she ever do to deserve you? Emma, I mean, not that other thing you hooked up with.”
I’m getting angrier by the second. Thomas, the photo, the article, Megan. Because I know she’s behind this, the little witch.
“Shut up!” I yell, teetering on the edge of exploding. “You’ve done nothing but be on my case since I came home.”
“Because you deserve nothing less,” he yelled back. “You wreck your own life, and now, you’ve gone and wrecked Emma’s. Her life was perfect before you walked into it. She had a reputation, a business, a life away from you. Now, you’ve humiliated her all over again.”
His words pierce me because I know this is going to kill her when she sees it. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her. After everything that happened between us, all the words we shared last night, and that wonderful tender kiss, I can feel things falling apart. Even though this isn’t my fault. For a change.
But as I’m thinking of all that, Thomas’s words are echoing in my head.
“Now, you’ve gone and humiliated her all over again.”
“What do you mean, ‘all over again?’” I glare at him.
Thomas holds my stare, but I can see the slightest bit of doubt in his eyes. “You did the same in high school,” he rasps.
“And how would you know about that?” I push.
“Because I was there,” he spits. But his words are losing the conviction they held moments ago when he was yelling at me, and I’m trying to figure out why. And then it suddenly hits me.
I stare right into his eyes. “You like her. You’ve always liked her.”
“What?” Thomas falters, his face reddening, his frown so deep you could fall into it. And then he shakes his head frantically. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.”
But he’s lying through his teeth, and we both know it.
“This is why you’ve been such a pain in my neck since I got here. Admit it. You like Emma.”
He stands there, his eyes looking anywhere but me, still shaking his head as though he’s in some sort of denial. And then he spins to glare at me.
“And what if I do?” he barks, clearly figuring I’m not going to let it go. “It’s not like you care about her. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You always had to be brilliant at everything, didn’t you, Ryan? I could never fill your shoes. I was always in your shadow. And even though I’m the smarter, more caring one of the two of us, Emma Carter has never looked at me twice.”
“You knew she had a crush on me?” I blurt.
“Of course I did,” he hissed. “In high school, I was pining for her while she was pining for you. It was pathetic, really.” With his anger building again, he narrows his eyes. “But you broke her heart all those years ago, and now, you’re going to do it all over again,” he yells.
I don’t fight back this time, though. I can see the pain in his eyes. The deep, soulful pain of a man who has yearned after something he can never have. And maybe, given my current situation, I can empathize more than Thomas knows. But I don’t want to argue with him anymore.
“You’re right. I was an arrogant jerk back then,” I say, my voice quiet and calm. “I was foolhardy and made stupid mistakes. And yes, I did hurt Emma. I didn’t know I hurt her, but then, I was an arrogant jerk, right?”
Thomas is now looking at me with a fixed stare.
“But now, I’m in love with her, Thomas. I love her,” I say, thumping my fist to my naked chest. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her, and while I don’t know what our future holds, there is no way I would jeopardize my chances of being with her like this.” I shake the newspaper that I’m still gripping. “I wasn’t there.”
My brother looks at me with a cynical stare. I can see his mind working, trying to figure out whether I’m telling the truth or not. The silence is heavy and deafening between us, and then eventually, he sighs.
“So, how did she get that picture?” he asks. His tone is still terse, but it’s calmer than before, which, I suppose, is something.
I shrug. “I have no idea.”
“Let me see it,” he says, waving his hand at the paper.
I hand it over, and he takes a long look at it. He examines it for several minutes, and without lifting his eyes, he says, “Could be Photoshopped.”
“It has to be Photoshopped,” I blurt. “She took a picture of the bar while she was here in town, and… and…” I struggle to fill in the rest, flapping my arms in desperation.
“Paid someone else to put you and her in it,” Thomas concludes calmly.
“Yes. Yes,” I cry, desperately grasping on to the only explanation that seems logical.
Thomas drops the paper and looks at me again for a long moment. “So, you love her.”
I nod. “With all my heart.”
And I don’t know whether it’s because what Emma and I might have is being threatened, but I feel the ache even more now after seeing that picture.
“I’m sorry, Thomas. I’m sorry for causing you so much stress, so much hassle. And I’m sorry if you think I’ve dragged the family name through the mud. This latest scandal wasn’t my fault.”
Thomas lifts an eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe I need to work on my temper when I’m on the ice,” I say, lifting my hands up. “But I didn’t say what they’re saying I did, and I sure as heck didn’t intend it to be racist. Please tell me you know me better than that.”
“I know you better than that,” he says, his face as still as a stone.
“Thank you,” I sigh.
“But Emma might not. And if she sees this…” He lifts the paper.
And once again, my pulse jumps, my whole body goes cold, and a panic washes over me. “Emma!” I gasp. “I need to go.”
Thomas nods and moves across the room. At the door, he turns and looks at me. “Don’t break her heart again, Ryan.” His voice is as calm as a still afternoon, and we share an intense look.
“I won’t.” I shake my head. “I can’t. I love her.”
And when Thomas closes the door, I fly around my room to get dressed.