Chapter Eight #2
My heart hammers against my ribs as his words sink in.
“I don’t want to leave, Ryan,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
“But I can’t live in the shadows anymore.
I don’t want to be your fake girlfriend when what I feel for you is real.
If you can’t seriously commit, then…for my own sanity, I’ll have to leave. ”
Ryan’s face pales, and he pulls me closer.
“You are so much more important than anything else, Lana,” he swears, his voice dropping an octave.
I feel the air vibrating between us again.
“You are more important than my best friend’s approval or what the PR team wants or even my career.
If I have to walk away from the NHL tomorrow to keep you beside me, then so be it.
I will do whatever you ask to prove that you are my everything. ”
The sincerity in his eyes and the conviction in his voice untie the knots of uncertainty that had been holding me hostage for weeks now. His brows pinch with worry, and his shoulders curl toward me, his breath ghosts my lips with restrained desire.
A nervous smile breaks through my defenses. “Okay, if you’ll do whatever I ask…then we are going home and you’re going to follow the doctor’s orders. You’re going to sit out the rest of the game, you’re going to let me take care of you, and you are going to rest so you can dominate the next game.”
Ryan’s face crumples and he lets out a low, breathless laugh. “Deal, baby girl.”
He leans in and gives me a chaste kiss before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his chest. I bury my face against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar, intoxicating scent.
The door opens and we pull away from each other. The doctor raises his brows, the only indication of his surprise at the team grump seeming so compliant.
“Alright, Ryan. Coach knows you’re out. I’m sending you home, but…
” He points a stern finger at me. “he needs to be monitored for the next forty-eight hours. No screens, plenty of rest, and I want you to check his pupils until he can get into his primary on Monday—if anything seems off, get him straight to the ER. Can you handle that?”
I straighten, keeping my arm wrapped around Ryan’s waist. “Yes, sir. He won’t lift a finger.”
The doctor nods and holds the door open for us. “I’ll make sure your gear gets put up, just go home and rest.”
“Thank you,” Ryan grumbles, but he doesn’t put up a fight when I lead him back out into the tunnel. His hand tightens around my waist when the distant roar of the third period echoes through the stadium, but he doesn’t say anything.
When we exit the locker room out into the loading bay to get Ryan’s car, Tucker is already there waiting for us, leaning against the side of his truck with his arms crossed.
“Tuck—” Ryan starts.
“Get in the car. I’ll take you home,” Tucker says softly, taking in the sight of Ryan’s obvious exhaustion, his lack of equipment, and the way he’s got me snug against his side. Tucker meets my eye, the corners of his mouth twitch, and he nods.
I smile as we climb in. Ryan opens the back door for me.
“Thanks.” I blush as he leans over to buckle me in.
“Always the gentleman.” Tucker chuckles, starting the engine.
Ryan winks at me, then clambers into the back seat, stretching out to lean against the door, resting the back of his head against the cool glass.
The ride back to the apartment is silent, but not the heavy silence of last night. It’s a peaceful, comfortable quiet.
Tucker navigates the Houston traffic with ease while Ryan holds me close against him in the backseat, his arm draped around my shoulders, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against my arm.
I can’t help but feel turned on as I think about the roughness of that thumb circling somewhere else. I look out the window and try to find a comfortable position, avoiding any eye contact with Tucker—who keeps glancing between us in the rearview mirror.
Tucker pulls up along the curb outside the apartment building and kills the engine. We all climb out of the car, and I stay right beside Ryan to make sure he doesn’t stumble.
We all walk into the lobby, stopping just outside of the elevator. Tucker turns to both of us, looking at Ryan first. A silent, knowing look passes between them, and I’m reminded of the way they used to have silent conversations when I was a kid.
Tucker’s eyes drift to me. “I’m going to head to my hotel for the night,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You two need some rest, but I’ll see you for breakfast, alright?”
My eyes widen as I realize he isn’t abandoning us, he’s giving us his blessing without saying it directly. I squeeze Ryan’s hand then rush forward, throwing my arms around Tucker’s neck. His strong arms wrap around me and lift me up. I press my cheek against his.
“Thank you, big brother,” I whisper around the lump forming in my throat.
“Take care of him, little sis. I’ll see you in the morning.” He gives me a squeeze before setting me down and walking back out to his truck.
I watch him get in and merge back into traffic, my heart sore but humming with joy. Ryan’s fingers lace between mine and he leads me into the elevator.
“Come on, baby girl. I need to lie down.”
The ride up is quick and the moment Ryan locks the front door, I go straight into caregiver mode. “Go sit on the bed. I’ll grab you some water and Tylenol. Do you need an ice pack?”
I start leading him toward the bedroom, but before I’ve barely made it a few steps my feet leave the floor. “Ryan! You’re supposed to be resting. No sudden movements, no bright lights, and no—”
“Lana.” The single word in his deep baritone stops me in my tracks. I huff and look at him. His voice is clear, devoid of the sluggish tone he’d been exhibiting earlier.
The exhaustion is still written across his face, and despite the stubborn set of his jaw, I can tell the trip home has taken what little energy he had left.
“Bed,” I order, pointing toward the bedroom. “Doctor’s orders.”
Ryan lets out a low, breathless laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”
I help him get settled, bring him some water, and crawl into bed beside him. Within minutes, his breathing evens out and he falls asleep with one arm wrapped securely around my waist.
***
A few hours later, I wake to Ryan shifting beside me.
I blink into the darkened bedroom and turn toward him. “How do you feel?”
“Better.” His voice is quiet but clear.
I study him suspiciously. “Any dizziness? Headache? Nausea?”
“Just tired.”
Relief loosens something in my chest. “Good. Because you scared the hell out of me tonight.”
His expression changes immediately. “Lana…”
“Yes?”
He reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine. “I love you.
The only thing I was doing was thinking of you,” Ryan murmurs, his grin fading into an expression of raw intensity. He cups my cheek with one of his large, warm hands, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that finally escaped. “I love you, Lana.”
My breath catches, and I wrap my fingers around his wrist.
“I love you so much it terrifies me. I am entirely and completely yours. No more lies, no more PR stunts, just us.” His eyes water and his expression tells me everything I need to know. He’s holding his heart out for me to take, and I do.
“I love you too, Ryan,” I choke out around a sob, happy tears blur my vision. I blink them away furiously, desperate to memorize everything about this moment. “I’ve loved you since that first date. Maybe even before then.”
His lips are on mine, hot and all consuming. I part my lips for him and bury my fingers in his hair. He groans into the kiss, sending a shiver through my body. He kisses me long and slow, stealing every ounce of breath from my lungs.
When he pulls away, I let out a whimper.
He chuckles and presses his forehead to mine. “Lana, please say you’ll always be mine.”
I tug his hair, guiding him back so I can see him fully. A spark of defiance lights in my chest and I nod.
“I want to hear you say it,” he growls, narrowing his eyes.
I nod again and tease my fingers down the back of his neck.
“Lana.” The corners of his mouth twitch in amusement, but he holds his hard stare.
“Yes? Oh!” I’m on my stomach, and he yanks my leggings off, the cool air sends goosebumps across my skin. Then his warm hand is resting on my ass, rubbing gentle circles.
“You’re mine,” he commands.
I nod and wiggle my hips. Ryan lets out a strangled groan and slaps me hard enough to sting. I gasp, feeling every nerve tingling and my core flood.
“I’m yours.”
His hand lands hard on my ass, and I clutch at the sheet.
“Lana Farmer.” Ryan’s voice is in my ear now and I shudder. “You’ll always be mine.”
I don’t speak and he shifts, pressing his hardening length between my thighs, and I can’t take it anymore.
“Yes. I’ll always be yours, Ryan Walker.”