11
Ryan
For the last three days since Chicago, Charm and I had talked about everything except the one thing that had almost ended whatever the fuck we were becoming.
She sent me pictures of coffee she claimed tasted terrible and drank anyway.
I called her from hotel rooms after games and listened while she complained about Klein until her irritation turned into arguments about books she would’ve been too afraid to have opinions about three months ago.
She texted during practice. I sent her pictures from the road.
She fell asleep on FaceTime once with half her face buried beneath a blanket and her phone propped badly enough that I spent twenty minutes looking at the ceiling above her bed because I couldn’t bring myself to hang up.
We talked, laughed, and missed each other so fucking obviously that pretending otherwise would’ve been insulting.
We still didn’t say anything about the night she pulled away from me because somebody might see us, or about me telling her I couldn’t be the guy she wanted in private and questioned in public.
Chicago had given us enough time to stop bleeding on each other. It hadn’t given us enough time to figure out whether the wound was actually closing.
By the time I turned onto my street, I had replayed that argument enough times to know exactly which sentences still pissed me off and which ones scared the shit out of me. My phone had been sitting in the cup holder for the last twenty minutes with our latest messages on the screen.
Ryan: I made it home.
Her answer had come fast.
Charm: Oh really.
That was all she gave me. Two simple words that shouldn’t have made me spend the rest of the drive wondering whether she sounded distant or normal, whether she wanted to see me or was giving me space.
I didn’t know if I was about to spend another fucking night staring at my phone like an idiot while pretending four games and six days away from her hadn’t changed something in me I didn’t know how to change back.
I turned into the apartment lot and saw her before my headlights finished crossing the building.
Charm sat on the top step outside my door, and for a second, I thought exhaustion was fucking with me. Then she lifted her head, and everything inside my chest stopped.
She wasn’t dressed for anything. There was no carefully chosen date outfit, perfect hair, or makeup I could see from the truck.
She had on leggings, an oversized KFU sweatshirt, and sneakers.
Her purse rested beside her on the concrete while both hands disappeared inside the sleeves she had pulled over her fingers.
She had been waiting for me.
I parked like shit and didn’t care. After killing the engine, I grabbed my duffel from the passenger seat and climbed out without taking my eyes off her.
Charm stood, and the sight of her hit me harder than any check I’d taken all week. I had spent six days missing her, and that was the part I hadn’t expected.
Wanting her physically had always been easy to understand.
I had wanted her for too fucking long to pretend otherwise.
I knew what it felt like to picture her beneath me when I was supposed to be sleeping.
I knew what it felt like to watch her mouth move while she argued about literature and wonder how quickly I could make her forget the name of whatever dead writer had pissed her off.
That wasn’t what had destroyed me this week.
I missed talking to her. I missed her sending me some ridiculous thought at two in the morning because she knew I’d answer.
I missed watching her straighten things when she got nervous and the little crease between her brows when she was thinking.
I missed her laugh and hearing Ryan come out of her mouth in the million different ways she said it depending on whether she was amused, irritated, nervous, turned on, or trying to pretend I hadn’t seen straight through her.
Hockey had been the fixed point in my life for as long as I could remember.
Women, sleep, comfort, school, and whatever else tried to compete for my attention had always fallen somewhere behind it without me having to think about the order.
Now I was crossing a parking lot toward Charm sitting on my steps and realizing I’d spent nearly a week thinking about her when I should’ve been thinking about damn near anything else.
Charm looked down at me as I approached. “Hey. So, you really are home.”
My hand tightened around the strap of my bag. “I am.”
Her mouth shifted like she wanted to smile, but I couldn’t give her one yet. I was still trying to understand why she was sitting outside my apartment when I’d texted her only a few minutes before pulling in.
“You beat me here.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me why.”
She looked toward the parking lot for a second before meeting my eyes again. The answer mattered enough that I felt it before she spoke.
“I wanted you to see me.”
I climbed one step, and she swallowed.
“I didn’t want to send another text and tell you I missed you.
I didn’t want to say I was trying or tell you I understood what you meant in Chicago.
” Her hands emerged from her sleeves, and her fingers twisted together before she made herself stop.
“I wanted you to pull in and see me sitting here waiting for you.”
I stared at her as her voice softened.
“I wanted you to know I was actively choosing you.”
The pressure in my chest turned vicious. “Charm.”
“I know we haven’t talked about it.”
“We’ve talked around the hell out of it.”
“I know.” She came down one step until we were almost eye level. “I was scared to bring it up over FaceTime.”
“That makes two of us.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and I almost laughed at the surprise on her face. “Yeah, princesa. I’ve been scared too.”
That admission changed something between us. Charm took the last step, and I dropped my bag beside my feet. Her gaze fell to it when it hit the concrete before returning to my face.
“I practiced something instead while you were gone.”
A smile threatened despite everything moving through me. “That sounds dangerous.”
“It probably is.”
“What’d you practice?”
Her cheeks colored, but I waited her out. Charm drew in a breath, and when she spoke again, the words came slowly and carefully.
“Estoy orgullosa de ser tu hada.”
Every muscle in my body locked. Her pronunciation wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t give a fuck.
Charm studied my face, nervous enough now that I could see her second-guessing herself. “I think I said it right.”
I couldn’t answer yet, so she continued before I could find my voice.
“Quiero ser tuya donde todos puedan verlo.”
My throat closed. Fuck me.
Charm reached for my hand. “I wanted to say that part right.”
I stared down at our fingers. She had learned enough Spanish to tell me she was proud to be my fairy and that she wanted to be mine where everyone could see it.
The woman who had spent her entire life learning how to adjust herself according to who was watching had sat on my fucking steps and given me the one promise I had been terrified she couldn’t make.
I forced myself to look at her. “You know what you just said?”
“I practiced for three days, plus the last hour here on these steps.”
“You’re sure?”
Her mouth trembled into a smile. “I said I’m proud to be your fairy and that I want to be yours where everybody can see it.”
Something inside me cracked. I caught the back of her neck and pulled her into me. She made a soft sound before her arms went around my waist, and I buried my face against her hair.
For most of my life, hockey had been the one thing I trusted enough to put first. The ice gave back exactly what I gave it. Effort mattered, pain had rules, and loss had a scoreboard. I understood winning and losing because both came with an answer.
People could love you Monday and hurt you Tuesday. They could promise forever and leave before dinner. They could call something home while reminding you every fucking day that it belonged to them. I had built my life around something that couldn’t wake up and decide I was too much trouble to keep.
Then Charm started slipping past every defense I had.
For six days, I had hated how badly I wanted her to call.
I hated checking my phone between periods and realizing that after a win, before I wanted beer, food, or sleep, I wanted her voice.
Underneath all of it sat the fear I couldn’t beat down, because I knew exactly what happened when something became more important than surviving without it.
Charm pulled back enough to look at me. “You look upset.”
“I’m trying very fucking hard not to lose my mind on these stairs.”
“That sounds vaguely threatening.”
I stared at her mouth. “It should.”
Her breathing changed as my hand slid from her neck to her waist.
“I have a million and one thoughts running through my head right now about all the ways I want to touch you.”
Color spread across her cheeks. “Ryan—”
“But I need you to come inside.”
The heat in her expression shifted when I brushed my thumb across her side.
“I need to show you the last part of me, mi hada. I need you to understand why you choosing me as your man matters so fucking much.”
She searched my face, and the teasing disappeared completely. “Okay.”
I picked up my duffel and unlocked the door while Charm followed me inside.
After tossing the bag near the wall, I turned on the lamp beside the couch instead of the overhead light.
The apartment looked exactly how I’d left it six days ago, with books stacked on the end table, unopened mail near the kitchen counter, and one clean glass upside down beside the sink.
Charm belonged in the middle of it so easily that the thought scared me.
She set her purse near the couch as I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Her favorite sauvignon blanc sat behind the orange juice. I’d bought it before leaving, and that felt like another confession I wasn’t ready to examine.
“You have my wine.”
“I have eyes.”