Chapter Seven
Ryan
I can’t stop pacing. The hardwood floors feel worn thin beneath my bare feet. Just over an hour ago, we’d been playfully working through her homework, and now…
Hi, this is Lana. I’m probably busy with homework or stealing my brother’s LEGO sets while he’s away. Please leave a message—
I hang up the phone again. If I wasn’t so worried, I’d probably be able to laugh at Lana’s voicemail greeting, even if it is the twenty-first time I’ve heard it.
I remember when Lana used to take apart Tucker’s Lego sets to build something new for us to test out—like the bridge for our army men when she was six, or the phone holders for our first cars when she was seven.
She’s always been inventive, always wanted to be an engineer, and I wanted to help her reach that goal.
Instead, I’ll have to watch from afar while she succeeds without me.
My heart clenches at the thought of only ever seeing her wide brown eyes and beautiful smile through a screen.
I need her here, by my side, bright with excitement as she tells me about her day.
I sigh and set the phone down on the counter before I do something stupid, like throw it at Tucker’s head.
It slams down a little too loud and I groan, rubbing my hands hard against my face.
Lana has every right to ignore me right now, and she did at least tell Tucker she was safe with a friend.
But she wouldn’t tell him where they were.
The pale, shattered look on her face before she stormed past us is burned into my memory. I know I fucked up. I should’ve just told Tucker what was going on. Instead, I let my desire to keep her to myself cloud over what she needed to hear me say.
“Fuck,” I grumble, and start pacing the kitchen again. I have to figure out how to live with the fragile reassurance that she’s at least safe somewhere else for the night. Cause she certainly isn’t coming back here.
Tucker comes up behind me and sets a beer down, the glass clinking against the granite countertop. I lift my head and he stares at me with an expression I know all too well. Here comes the lecture.
“If you continue to wear a hole in the floorboards where my sister is supposed to be living, I’m going to have to break your jaw.
” His voice is low and gravelly, vaguely threatening.
I’ve only heard him talk like that once before, and it was when he hit someone in high school who was talking shit about Lana being our shadow.
His beer bottle rests loosely between his fingers, and his arms are crossed. He had been watching me pace like a caged animal with the cool, calculating intensity of a military drill sergeant. He’d make a good hockey coach with that dead-eye stare.
“Now come sit the hell down, and tell me what the hell is going on. She’s not going to answer her phone tonight.” Tucker nods toward the couch.
I let my shoulders drop, grab the beer he opened, and walk to the living room. I drop heavily onto the couch, and he sits at the other end. A movie plays in the background, barely audible, forgotten.
Tucker leans forward, and I watch the condensation from the bottle drip over his knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” I finally choke out around the lump in my throat. “I broke her heart, Tuck.”
“You did,” he confirms.
“I feel terrible. It wasn’t my intention. I was just trying to protect…” I take a swig of the beer, but barely taste it.
“What were you trying to protect, Ry?” Tucker’s tone is tense, but calm. He’s still mad, but I can tell he wants to hear me out.
“Everything. Her. Especially her. What makes it ten times worse is that everything I said to you about it was a complete lie.”
I wait for Tucker’s fist, but it never comes. With a shaky breath, I meet his eyes.
“It wasn’t fake at all. At least…not in here.” I point to my heart. “I’m completely and utterly in love with her.”
Tucker doesn’t even flinch, he just rolls his eyes and takes a slow, deliberate sip of his beer, then sets the bottle on the coffee table. “I know.”
My brows shoot up.
“I’ve known you since we were eight years old, Ryan. I know all your plays on the ice, and I know all of them off it. But if you don’t start telling me the whole truth right now, I swear to god, I’ll make sure Lana wants nothing to do with you for the rest of your life.”
I nod, and the dam breaks. I confess everything: the PR meeting, how I blurted out her name to keep Brenda from controlling my life, Lana’s agreement, our first “fake” date, our first kiss, and all the phone calls while I was away. The only thing I don’t detail out is what happened after the kiss.
“I feel so guilty for dragging her into this. She had just gotten here and I…I fucked up, but…every time I look at her now, the rest of the world goes quiet. And not in the way it did before, now the silence feels like something to look forward to, no longer a punishment for being in the limelight.”
Tucker is silent, nodding slowly.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think I took advantage of her,” I admit, lowering my head. “I should have trusted that you’d understand.”
Tucker’s posture is no longer rigid. He finishes his beer and fidgets with the bottle.
“Honestly, I think I already knew how you both felt.” He lets out a low whistle and runs his hand over his blond buzz cut.
“When I walked in, I won’t lie, I thought you were just flirting with her and leading her on.
But, now that you’ve told me everything, it makes sense why she stormed out.
The way she looks at you in those pictures, I knew deep down that wasn’t fake. ”
Tucker leans forward, angling himself toward me, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look at me, Ry.”
I meet his gaze, his brown eyes sincere.
“So, you’re in love with my sister? What are you going to do about it?”
I pause, my chest aching with the words I want to say.
“I want all of her, Tuck, not some fake media stunt or good luck charm. I want to build a life with her. I want…I want to marry her.” I let out a humorless chuckle and look back down at the beer in my hands.
“But, it’s probably too late for that now.
I was a coward when it really counted, and I told her older brother and my best friend that she was just a prop to save me from the PR team too many times.
She’s never going to forgive me for that. ”
The silence that falls between us feels loaded with unspoken possibilities. I tap my fingers against the bottle and watch the flickering silver and blue lights from the TV cast distorted shapes across the amber glass.
It’s nearly midnight before Tucker finally speaks up again. He stands, takes our empty beer bottles to the kitchen, and pulls out his keys.
“Give me until the game tomorrow,” Tucker says, his voice firm. “Let her cool off, and let me talk to her. But when that final buzzer sounds tomorrow night, you’d best be ready to confess to Lana everything you just told me. Because if you hold back a single word, I’m helping her move out.”