13. Ryan #2
“If this gets out,” she said, gesturing between us, “and people find out I’m…
what…sleeping with the captain? The captain, Ryan, not some fourth-line guy nobody’s watching, not the backup to the backup to the backup, not someone else who works in the building.
That’s what I become. My whole identity becomes nothing but.
That’s the story. She slept with Lindqvist. That’s how she keeps her job.
Or how she got it. Or whatever.” She shook her head.
“I have worked too hard for that to be the headline. Not to mention what it would do to my brother.”
“Nobody who knows you would think that.” And they wouldn’t. Everyone respected her. As they should. It was Griffin. It was always Griffin.
“That’s not how it works and you know it.” Her voice wasn’t sharp, just certain. “You’ve been in locker rooms your whole career; hell, your whole life. You know exactly what gets said about women in this space. I’m not being paranoid. I’m being accurate. Realistic.”
I did know. I wanted to argue and I couldn’t, because she was right, and I respected her too much to pretend otherwise.
“And Griffin,” she said, quieter now. “You’re his best friend.
That friendship is real and I watched it happen over the years and I don’t want to be the thing that breaks it.
” She sighed heavily. “Especially when I don’t even know if this is—I mean, for you this was probably—” She stopped, inhaled, tried again.
“I don’t want to blow up your friendship with my brother over something that might be a thing that just happened. ”
My expression stilled.
“A thing that just happened,” I repeated deadpan. Did she really think that about me? About us? That this wasn’t something special to me?
“You know what I mean.” She tried to play it off lightly, but I wasn’t letting it go, absolutely the fuck not.
“I do.” I watched her carefully. “I also know you don’t believe that’s what last night was. For either of us. I know it wasn’t.”
Her jaw tightened slightly. Not anger. Recalibration. I noticed her thinking over what I said.
“Ryan—”
“I hear your concerns. All of them. Your reputation, your position, Griffin. None of that is wrong and I’m not going to tell you it is.
” I picked up my phone and slid it into my pocket.
“But I’m also not walking out of here and pretending last night didn’t happen, or that it didn’t mean anything more than just sex.
I’m not going to stop wanting to be around you.
And I don’t think you want me to.” I paused.
“So if what you’re asking for is time, and quiet, and no one knowing—I can do that.
I can keep this between us…for now. But I’m not planning…
” I hesitated, looking for the right word that meant something along the lines of to stop being obsessed with you, but settled on what would be clear but not too over the top since she was starting to look like a skittish rabbit.
“I’m not planning for this to be the last time.
” It wasn’t exactly what I meant, but until I had her on board the we-were-clearly-destined-to-end-up-together train, it would have to do.
She studied me across the kitchen. The morning light was coming in at a low angle now, catching the edge of her jaw and the curve of her shoulder under the oversized shirt. I made myself hold still.
“Are you suggesting we—” She stopped. Started again. “That we keep doing this? And just keep it between us. Sneak around?”
Every muscle in my chest unclenched at once. I think she’s on board. It wasn’t the exact outcome I wanted from this exchange, but if it kept her from shutting me out, it would have to do for now until I could show her how right we were for each other. How this was clearly meant to be.
“Uh… Yes. That’s what I’m suggesting,” I said, and kept my voice level even though this friends with benefits thing was a fucking terrible idea. I should just go talk to Griffin. I was pretty sure she’d kill me if I did that, and she was definitely not ready for what I was yet.
“For how long?” Just the hint of a smile formed on her beautiful lips.
“For as long as it works for both of us.” I crossed my arms, mirroring her posture without meaning to. “I enjoy spending time with you, Maren. A lot. I don’t want to stop spending time with you. Not at work. I’m pretty sure you feel the same way. Can you work with that?”
The almost-smile widened. “Yeah,” she said. “I think I can work with that.”
“Good.” I let a beat pass. “One condition.” I took a serious tone, because this part was a fucking dealbreaker.
She raised an eyebrow.
I moved toward her then, slow enough she could read it coming, and watched the slight hitch in her breath when I stopped close. I brushed her hair back from her face with one hand, tilted her head, and put my mouth to her ear.
“Nobody else gets inside you.” My voice was low and unhurried, the tone I used when I’d already made a decision and was informing her of the outcome.
“Nobody else gets to hear those sounds you make. Nobody else gets their fingers in your pretty pussy while you beg for more.” I felt her breath go unsteady against my jaw and kept going.
“I spent half the night making you come and learning exactly what you need, what you like…and that’s mine now. All of it. Are we clear?”
Her hand had found my forearm at some point. Her grip was tight.
“Crystal,” she managed.
I pulled back just enough to see her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, her eyes dark. I took in every detail, reveling in her desire.
“Good,” I said.
I tipped her chin up and kissed her. Not briefly, not urgently, just thoroughly. A kiss that made a point without making a scene. She kissed me back without hesitating, her shoulders softening as I pulled her tight to my body.
“I’ll text you later. I have to get to practice,” I said against her mouth.
“Okay,” she said on a breath.
I left.
I sat in the rideshare to the facility and stared out the window at Scottsdale waking up around me. Sprinklers running on lawns that had no business being green in November, a woman walking a dog the size of a small horse, the mountains already pale gold in the early light.
I wasn’t going to push. I wasn’t going to name what this was or ask her to.
She needed to get there on her own timeline, and I’d understood this about her since the first Sunday dinner.
The way she deflected every personal question her mother asked while somehow making it seem like a choice instead of armor.
Maren Callahan moved toward things carefully, and the worst thing I could do was make her feel crowded.
So I’d be present. Consistent. I’d make coffee in her kitchen and ask about her patients and show up when she texted, and we’d be intimate. In the way I’d wanted since the last time I’d seen her back in college. I’d let her figure out what I already knew.
I was a patient man. I could wait. Maren Callahan was worth it and I wasn’t letting this second chance with her slip away.
Nobody else had not been a negotiation. She’d agreed to it like she’d already decided before I said it, which to me meant she wasn’t as uncertain as she was letting on.
I held onto that the whole drive.
I was on the ice forty minutes later and played the best practice of my life.
Cole noticed immediately because Cole noticed everything.
“You’re smiling,” Cole said, after practice, watching me pack my bag. “At your gear. You’re standing there smiling at your shin guards.”
“I’m not smiling.”
Cole fell into the stall beside me, already showered, towel around his neck, looking deeply pleased with himself. “I’ve been on this team for a month and I’ve never seen it. Not like this. Something happened and you’re happy. I think someone owes me money.”
“You bet on whether I smiled?”
“I bet on when. There’s a difference.” Cole paused. “Also Eli has a theory.”
“Eli doesn’t have theories about people.”
“Eli has exactly one theory and he mentioned it to me twice, which for Eli is practically a TED talk.”
I picked up my bag. “I’ll be sure not to ask him about it.”
Cole watched me go with an expression that said he was deciding whether to push something. He didn’t. Yet.
I texted her at two-fifteen while reviewing game film. She’d been on my mind all day, and most of the guys were planning to go out that evening. I didn’t really want to go, but if I could get her to go…
Ryan: The guys want to go to the Nail tonight. You going?
Maren: Griffin invited me already. I was planning to go. You?
Ryan: Can I pick you up?
Maren: I don’t think that falls under “nobody knowing”
Ryan: I’m just a friend offering you a ride
Maren: Your apartment is in the opposite direction lol
Ryan: Fine. Can I steal a kiss tonight?
Maren: It’s 97% feasible.
Ryan: What do I have to do to close the gap?
Maren: You’re a menace.
Ryan: I think you like it.
Maren: It’s entirely possible.
Maren: I’ll see you there later.
Ryan: okej vackra
Maren: What does that mean?
Ryan: Look it up.
It meant okay, beautiful.
The Rusty Nail that evening was lower-key than a postgame night.
Players who wanted a beer and somewhere that wasn’t home, nothing more than that, and half the time most of us didn’t drink, we just needed to get out.
Dee had the patio misters running and someone had claimed the big corner table, and Maren arrived fourteen minutes after I did, which I knew because I’d been watching the door in a way I couldn’t deny.
She came in with her hair down and clothes she’d changed into after work, said something to Dee at the bar that made Dee almost smile, and folded herself into the open seat three down from me without making anything of it.
The tank top she wore revealed just enough skin to make my mouth water and I’d caught just a glimpse of her perfect ass before she sat.