9 #3
Chicago traffic nearly killed whatever nerve I had left.
The closer I got to the hotel, the more violently my thoughts turned against the decision.
I had driven across state lines without telling him.
He might think I was being dramatic. He might already be asleep.
He might be too angry to see me, or he might look at me and decide the last three days had been easier without me.
My palms grew damp against the steering wheel.
I opened the granola bar at a red light and forced myself to take a bite. My stomach protested immediately, but I chewed and swallowed before wrapping the rest and setting it beside my water bottle.
The small act didn’t make me feel strong.
It only reminded me I was still moving.
By the time I reached the hotel, my shoulders hurt from gripping the wheel, and the dashboard clock had crossed eleven. I parked beneath the harsh lights, shut off the engine, and stared at the building while the car ticked quietly around me.
I had made it to Chicago.
That was when I finally understood I had no plan beyond getting here.
I didn’t know Ryan’s room number. I didn’t know whether the Frost had booked this hotel under the team’s name or whether the front desk would tell me anything. I didn’t even know whether he was still inside.
The problem nearly broke me.
I lowered my forehead to the steering wheel and let myself feel the fear without obeying it. I had already told my mother no. I had survived the panic afterward. I had driven all this way in the same gray shirt I nearly changed because my own reflection frightened me.
I could walk into a hotel.
My legs trembled when I climbed from the car, but they carried me across the parking lot.
The lobby was bright and crowded enough to make me hesitate inside the doors.
Voices bounced from the high ceiling while people moved between the front desk, lounge, and elevators.
I stood near the entrance, clutching my purse beneath my arm as I searched for black Frost sweats or Ryan’s backward cap.
Instead, I found a loose cluster of Frost players near the elevators with Briggs, Cade, Rider, and Easton mixed in among them.
Seeing the KFU guys there made immediate sense. They had come to watch Ryan play, and for half a second, the familiarity of their faces made the entire thing feel less insane.
Briggs noticed me first.
His expression changed so quickly that Cade followed his line of sight before I had taken another step.
“Charm?”
I stopped near the edge of the lobby while all four of them looked at me.
Briggs glanced toward the elevators and then back at me. “What the fuck are you doing in Chicago?”
“I need Ryan.”
His eyebrows climbed. Something like understanding moved through his face, and the beginning of a grin disappeared when he looked at me more closely.
“Does he know you’re here?”
“No, he doesn’t.”
Cade made a quiet sound beside him. Easton folded his arms, and Rider stared at me like he was trying to decide whether asking questions would improve or worsen whatever situation I had clearly driven into.
Briggs stepped closer. “Are you okay?”
“I will be if you tell me where Ryan is.”
He was already reaching for his phone when the elevator doors opened behind him.
Ryan walked out carrying a duffel bag.
Every sentence I had rehearsed during the drive disappeared.
He wore black Frost sweats and a hoodie with his cap turned backward, his hair still slightly damp like he had showered after the game. Another bag hung from one shoulder while his phone rested loosely in his hand. He was talking to one of his teammates as they stepped from the elevator.
Then his gaze lifted.
He saw me.
Whatever he had been saying stopped in the middle of the sentence. His entire body locked before his eyes moved once toward the KFU guys and came immediately back to me. The teammate beside him nearly walked into his shoulder before noticing Ryan was no longer moving.
“Charm?”
Hearing my name in his voice after three days of keeping him at a distance broke whatever control I had left.
I crossed the lobby before I could think about how many people were watching and went straight into him.
Ryan dropped the duffel fast enough to catch me when I threw my arms around his neck.
His hands closed around my waist and pulled me against him with enough force that my feet almost left the floor.
I buried my face against the side of his neck while the first complete breath I had managed since my mother appeared at my apartment finally filled my lungs.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his mouth near my hair.
“I’m sorry.”
His arms tightened before he leaned back enough to try to see my face. I held on harder because I had spent the entire drive preparing to speak and hadn’t prepared for how it would feel when he touched me.
“Mi hada, mírame.”
“I was wrong.”
“Charm, look at me.”
“I was such an asshole.”
“Okay.” His hands remained firm at my waist even as he tried to create enough distance to see me. “Slow down and breathe.”
I finally lifted my head.
“I should have called you. I should have answered you. I shouldn’t have said any of that shit about other women because I don’t think that about you, and I knew I didn’t think it while I was saying it.
I was angry because you kept stopping, and it hurt.
I wanted you to hurt enough to understand how it felt. ”
The softness in Ryan’s face changed into something more complicated. His thumbs moved once against my sides while he studied me, and I saw the fight from three nights ago return through his expression.
“I knew that part hurt you,” he said.
“I know you did.”
“No, I don’t think you understood.”
Shame rushed back hard enough that I looked down. “I understand now.”
Ryan’s fingers tightened slightly against my waist, but before either of us could say more, I became aware of how quiet the lobby had become around us.
Cade cleared his throat somewhere behind me.
I turned my head and discovered the four KFU guys standing exactly where I had left them, along with enough Frost players to make me want the floor to open beneath my feet.
Briggs rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. “Maybe you two should take this upstairs.”
Ryan looked over my shoulder at them and then back at me. “Yeah, we should.”
One of the Frost players nearby checked his phone before calling toward Ryan. “Bus is still midnight.”
I looked at him and then at Ryan. “What bus?”
His mouth tightened. “We’re heading to Milwaukee.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, tonight.”
The entire drive rearranged itself inside my head. I had imagined getting here, finding him after the game, and finally having enough time to say everything I should have said three days ago. Instead, I looked toward the clock above the lobby desk and saw it was already a little after eleven.
“You’re leaving in less than an hour?”
Ryan’s expression softened at whatever he saw on my face. “We have a little under an hour.”
“I drove all the way here, and you have fifty-something minutes?”
A corner of his mouth moved despite everything. “That sounds like you’re blaming me for the schedule.”
“I might be.”
“That seems fair.”
He bent to pick up the duffel he had dropped and reached for my hand with the other.
The gesture was so automatic that it nearly made me cry again.
“Come upstairs.”
His fingers threaded through mine, and I followed him toward the elevators while Briggs called something behind us about them heading out. I barely heard it.
My attention remained on Ryan’s hand around mine and the fact that he never loosened his grip, even with teammates, friends, hotel staff, and half the damn lobby watching us.
Three nights ago, he had accused me of pulling away whenever someone else’s opinion entered the room.
This time, I didn’t.
I tightened my hand around his.
Ryan felt it.
His eyes dropped briefly to our joined hands before lifting to my face. Something moved through his expression that made my chest ache, but he didn’t say anything about it.
Neither did I.
The elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside together. Ryan pressed the button for his floor. When the doors slid shut behind us, the noise of the lobby disappeared and left me alone with him for the first time since our fight.
I had spent three days avoiding this exact moment because I was terrified I wouldn’t know how to explain myself once he was standing in front of me again.
Now I had less than an hour before hockey took him away.
For once, there wasn’t enough time to make the truth pretty.