18 #2
He stared at me for a second before finally giving me the truth.
“Huge.”
The word carried everything hockey had meant to him since he was young enough to need somewhere dependable to belong. His arrogance and swagger had disappeared, leaving me with the part of Ryan that had spent his entire life working toward one chance.
My chest tightened. “How huge?”
“If I have a good game, really fucking huge.”
I smiled before I could stop myself.
Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because admitting you’re good at hockey sounded physically painful.”
“I know I’m good.”
“How good?”
“I’m fucking excellent.”
“Much better.”
His dimple appeared briefly before his expression grew serious again.
“I want everybody there.”
“The guys?”
“All of them. Cade, Briggs, Rider, Easton, and the girls. Whoever can make it.”
His fingers moved slowly over my waist.
“Fury doesn’t play that weekend. There are cabins near the arena. I was thinking everyone could come up Friday and stay through Sunday. The game is Saturday night. We could do food afterward, maybe skate Sunday, and whatever else people do when they voluntarily spend an entire weekend together.”
“That sounds suspiciously like you planned a group vacation.”
“Don’t call it that.”
“You found cabins.”
“I know how Google works.”
I laughed softly, but Ryan continued watching me.
“I need you there.”
My laughter disappeared. “I said I would be.”
“I know, mi hada.”
His hand rose and touched my cheek.
“I need you there with me, knowing what that means.”
My breath caught.
“There will be media. Frost posts everything. People will take pictures, and if I have the game I’m supposed to have, there could be interviews afterward. Social media and whatever other bullshit comes with it.”
His thumb moved across my cheekbone.
“I’m telling you now because I don’t want you walking into that arena and realizing too late that you might end up in a picture beside me.”
The old version of me reacted before I could stop her.
What would my father see? Who would tell my mother? What if somebody posted it? What if people talked?
Then I looked at Ryan.
He had spent weeks refusing to let me hide behind what everybody else might think. He had given me his home, books, history, and far too much of his heart for me to keep pretending I didn’t understand what he was asking.
“You want me there publicly as your girlfriend.”
Ryan went still. “Yeah.”
The answer was quiet.
“I want you there as my girl. I don’t want you sitting with everybody and pretending you’re merely part of the group because a camera might catch you.”
My pulse jumped, but the panic didn’t take control.
“I’ll be there as your girlfriend.”
Ryan searched my face as if he expected me to take it back.
“If somebody takes a picture of me with you, they take a picture.”
His expression changed.
“If Frost posts us, they post us.”
“And if somebody asks who you are?”
I touched the ink over his chest. “You tell them.”
Something in his face nearly broke me.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Charm.”
“I’m sure.”
His arm tightened and pulled me closer. I kissed his chest before looking up again.
“We can leave Thanksgiving early.”
Ryan’s eyebrows lifted. “What?”
“I told my mother we would come. I didn’t agree to surrender the entire night.”
His mouth started to curve.
“We go to dinner, and we behave.”
“That sounds ambitious.”
“You behave.”
“That sounds less realistic.”
I ignored him. “We stay long enough to prove everyone can exist in one house without committing a felony. Then we leave and drive to Flint.”
Ryan’s hand slid along my back. “Just us?”
“Just us.”
His smile deepened. “One night before everybody invades?”
“That was my thought.”
“I like your thought.”
“I knew you would.”
Ryan kissed me slowly. When he pulled away, some of the heaviness had eased from his face.
“You’re really coming?”
I smiled. “You ask for reassurance a lot for someone who claims to be confident.”
“This matters.”
I touched his cheek. “I know.”
His eyes remained on mine.
“I’ll be there.”
Ryan kissed my forehead. “Good.”
My phone vibrated somewhere on the floor, but neither of us moved. Then his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I groaned. “No.”
Ryan reached blindly for it. “If that’s Aura, I’m telling her we moved.”
He looked at the screen, and his eyebrows lifted.
“What?”
He turned the phone toward me. A group text filled the screen.
Bliss: brEAKFAST THIS MORNING. EVERYONE. NONNEGOTIABLE.
Another message appeared immediately.
Briggs: IS THIS A CELEbrATION brEAKFAST???
Easton: Stop yelling.
Aura: It is absolutely a celebration breakfast.
I laughed while Ryan dropped his head against the pillow.
“Por fin.”
“What?”
“Finally.”
I laughed harder as another avalanche of messages arrived.
“Those two have been exhausting,” Ryan muttered.
“Be nice.”
“They have ruined approximately forty percent of my time with you this month.”
“That statistic is fabricated.”
“It’s a conservative estimate.”
I reached for his phone, but Ryan held it away.
“What are you doing?”
“Responding.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to say something rude.”
“Accurate.”
I stretched across him and tried to grab the phone. Ryan caught me around the waist and rolled us until I landed beneath him.
“Ryan.”
He looked down at me, keeping the phone safely out of reach.
“Esos dos son demasiado para una sola relación.”
I stared at him. “Translate.”
His dimple appeared. “Those two are too much for one relationship.”
I laughed. “That’s terrible.”
“It’s fucking true.”
His phone buzzed again.
Cade: 9. Waffle House. Please stop texting.
Ryan stared at the message. “Cade sounds tired.”
“Cade is always tired when Bliss discovers group planning.”
Another exchange appeared.
Bliss: 8:30.
Cade: 9.
Bliss: 8:45.
Cade: Fine.
Ryan laughed. “Compromise.”
“Healthy relationships are beautiful.”
“Apparently.”
I reached for my phone and opened the group chat. Bliss had already changed the name twice, and Briggs was sending enough celebration GIFs to cause a seizure.
“This is going to be unbearable.”
Ryan dropped his phone onto the bed. “You love them.”
“I do.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Very.”
He leaned down and kissed me once. “We should get moving.”
I looked at him. “That sounds suspiciously responsible.”
“We have breakfast soon.”
“With eight emotionally intrusive people.”
“Exactly why we should shower together. Efficiency.”
“That isn’t what happens when we shower together.”
“We can grow.”
“I have seen no evidence of that.”
Ryan laughed as he climbed off the bed and held out his hand. I took it anyway.
By the time we started collecting clothes from the bedroom floor and arguing about whose fault it was that one of my earrings had ended up beneath his dresser, the game remained firmly lodged inside my mind.
The scouts, cameras, and possibility that everything Ryan had fought for could change in one night should have terrified me.
For once, thinking about the world seeing me beside him didn’t make me want to hide.
It made me want Saturday to arrive faster.