Breakaway

Avery Keelan

TABLE OF CONTENTS

COPYRIGHT PAGE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREEE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ABOUT W BY WATTPAD BOOKS

Copyright page

W by Wattpad Books

An imprint of Wattpad WEBTOON Book Group

Copyright© 2022 Avery Keelan

All rights reserved.

Published in Canada by Wattpad WEBTOON Book Group, a division of Wattpad Corp.

No portion of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the express written permission of the copyright holders.

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First W by Wattpad Books edition: June 2022

ISBN 978-1-99025-938-8 (eBook edition)

Names, characters, places, and incidents featured in this publication are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, institutions, or locales, without satiric intent, is coincidental.

Wattpad, W by Wattpad Books, Wattpad WEBTOON Book Group, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Wattpad Corp. and/or WEBTOON Entertainment Inc.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication information is available upon request.

Printed and bound in Canada

Cover design by April Alforque

Images © Vasyl Dolmatov via iStock

CHAPTER ONE

Ryan

I never expected to find myself homeless at twenty-one. But thanks to a sketchy landlord and a flaky best friend, that was precisely what happened. After spending all summer with my mom at home in Lancaster, I didn’t have a place to move into when I returned to Boston for college.

“What do you mean, there’s a problem with our lease, Iz?” I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder, frantically duct-taping one of the last moving boxes shut.

After landing a summer internship in our college town, my best friend, Isabelle, had been tasked with finding us a place to rent for junior year. According to her, this apartment was everything we’d been looking for: a cute, cozy two-bedroom in the college district at an affordable price. We were going to meet the landlord, sign the lease, and get the keys when I arrived tomorrow.

On the other end of the line, Isabelle paused before saying, “I think the landlord found other tenants willing to pay more. Since we haven’t physically signed the lease yet, he threw us under the bus.”

The elaborate daydreams I had cultivated over the summer about this upcoming year evaporated. No, no, no.

We had everything planned out: from how we would decorate (shabby chic) to rules governing hypothetical boyfriend visitation (maximum of two overnights per week). After two years of oppressive dorm living, including a resident advisor who practically logged our comings and goings sophomore year, I was so close to sweet, sweet off-campus freedom for the first time in my college life.

I groaned. “School starts in less than a week. We really should have signed a lease before this.”

“He said that we couldn’t do it until you were back in town,” Isabelle said. “Something about a paper trail if we did it electronically.”

She’d neglected to mention that reasoning in our previous conversations. Bless her heart, I loved Isabelle, but sometimes she was a little sheltered.

“That sounds a bit sketchy, Iz.”

“I guess. And honestly, the landlord seemed like he might have been a creeper. He kept staring at my boobs when he gave me the tour. There are probably cameras hidden all over that apartment anyway,” she mused, rapidly brewing up another of her wild conspiracy theories.

I set the tape down and got to my feet. There was no point rushing to pack now that I had no place to unpack. “You may be right, but now I have nowhere to move into tomorrow. What am I going to do? What are you going to do?”

“Well...” she said. “My aunt and uncle said that I can stay here for now. This pool house of theirs is sweet.”

Great. She had a plan B, but I did not.

As if she could hear my thoughts, she added, “It’s just an open studio. There isn’t enough room for two people to live here long-term, but you can crash on the couch until we find you a place. It’ll be fun. Like dorm days all over again.”

Yeah, tons of fun. No privacy, no personal space, and no bedroom to call my own. That would be like dorm days, all right. An aura danced into my line of sight, a migraine lurking in the shadows. I needed to find my prescription before it hit full force.

“Thanks, Iz. That’ll help for now.” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

Surveying the empty bedroom, I racked my brain to remember where I had packed my meds. Maybe they were still in my purse . . . wherever that was.

Sunlight filtered in through the window onto my twin-sized childhood bed and oak dresser, the scene the same as it had been for as long as I could remember. A pang of nostalgia hit me. Next year, I planned to get a summer job in Boston, which meant this was, most likely, the last summer I’d spend at home. Unfortunately, now I was all packed up with no place to go.

“We can start looking for a new place ASAP, I promise. Who knows, maybe we’ll find an even better place. It’ll all work out,” she said.

I could tell from the weight of her tone that she was beating herself up about what had happened; she was the kind of person who would lose sleep for days over something like this. And I wasn’t angry with her, just disappointed that our unicorn apartment had been snatched out from under us. Poof.

“Right. I’m sure it will,” I agreed, feigning cheer. I wasn’t sure at all. Classes were scheduled to start in five days, with my clinical placement for nursing beginning shortly after that.

After chasing the migraine pills with some extra-strong tea, I did a sweep of the room for any items I might have missed. All that remained were a few lonely hangers in the empty closet and the handful of boxes in front of me.

I couldn’t decide whether it was sad or freeing to know that all my possessions fit into so few cubes. Or maybe just plain convenient now that I would be living in my car.

***

My head swam for the rest of the afternoon while I scrambled to think of a solution. I told myself that things would work out. They had to. But I hadn’t managed to convince myself of that fact when I sat down at the table for dinner, and it showed. I had a seven-hour drive ahead of me tomorrow and zero backup plan.

Aromas of melted cheese, tomato, and basil wafted my way as I slid into the chair across from my mom.

“Ryan, honey, what’s wrong?” She studied my face as she passed me a tray of her famous lasagna. I helped myself to two pieces, plus a gargantuan slice of garlic bread. I vowed that one day I would cook as well as she did. Cooking at all would probably be a good first step. “Is your headache still bothering you?”

I took a bite of garlic bread, chewing slowly to buy myself time. I didn’t want to lie to her, but honesty didn’t seem like a great option either. She watched me as I debated whether to tell her everything and cause her to worry over my current homeless status or to share a half-truth.

Carefully, I answered, “Just sorting out some last-minute living arrangement details with Isabelle. Moving is stressful, that’s all.” Okay, so I was lying by omission, but I chose to ignore that detail.

A line appeared between her brows, reminding me how much she had aged since I left for college. She was still beautiful, but I wondered if living alone had been harder on her than she let on. Although she insisted that she was happy on her own, I wished she had someone around to keep her company.

She frowned, the lines deepening. “You know, I worry about you living in an apartment all by yourself. The dorms would be much safer.”

I’d never met my father. My mother raised me on her own. It had always been just the two of us. We were extremely close, which for the most part, was a good thing. But it also meant that she tended to be overprotective, and I was itching for the autonomy that the dorms wouldn’t provide—things like no curfew or restrictive rules about who could spend the night. I didn’t want to be irresponsible; I just wanted options.

“I won’t be alone, Mom. I’ll be with Iz.” My mother loved Isabelle; most people did. Her bubbly personality was endearing, even when she did things like unintentionally render you homeless.

“I know, but you two are so young to be on your own like that,” she fussed, spearing a bite of Caesar salad with her fork.

“You weren’t much older when you had me.” I pointed out. “I don’t even have a baby to worry about. I’ll be fine.”

At least, I would be once I sorted out where to live.

***

I set out the following morning after several tear-filled hugs and promises to call when I arrived. Unfortunately, the drive back to school was long, boring, and filled with endless cornfields. I listened to podcasts, a few chapters of an audiobook, the radio, and my playlists, but the time still crawled by. After seven long hours, I pulled up to the Tudor-style mansion Isabelle’s aunt and uncle owned. Parking over to the side, I popped the trunk and sprang out of my car—fondly nicknamed Sheila—eager to be free from my metal cage.

“Ryan!” Isabelle squealed. Her honey-blond hair flew everywhere as she ran over to envelop me in a warm, flower-scented hug. “I missed you so much!”

I returned the hug, the comfort of a good friend washing over me. “I missed you too, Iz.” We broke apart, and I nodded to the car. “Can you help me with these boxes? I want to see these fancy digs.”

“I can help you,” she said. “But then I have to run over to the radio station for a couple of hours.”

“Oh, I thought yesterday was the last day of your internship.”

“So did I.” She made a face. “Then Mandy got a stomach bug, and now they’re short production assistants. I need a good reference from them, so I couldn’t leave them hanging. I should be done around midnight. We can catch up later if you’re still awake.”

While most college students verged on nocturnal, I was an early riser to the core. Even when I stayed up late, I found myself rising with the sun, no matter how hard I tried to go back to sleep. It worked out well on weekdays, less so on weekends.

“Let’s see how I make out with finding a place,” I said. “I might be up all night searching.”

Iz waved me off. “Oh, don’t sweat it. You can stay here as long as you need.” Nice of her to say, but unlikely to hold true after a few weeks of sharing one bathroom.

We quickly carried in the boxes, stacking most of them off to the side near the entryway closet. Isabelle was right: the pool house was amazing. Situated in the property’s lush green backyard, it was decked out in luxurious finishes. Marble tile, gray quartz counters, distressed white-oak flooring. It looked like something out of a home decor magazine.

The ideal bachelorette pad—for one. An open studio where the bedroom and living areas were the same. It made for cramped quarters, and I suspected we would constantly be stepping over each other. Luckily, neither of us snored. Actually, sometimes Isabelle did. I never had the heart to tell her that because she would be mortified, but at least it wasn’t loud.

Of course, after forgetting to charge it the night before, my laptop was as dead as doornail. Even plugged in, it wouldn’t switch on. Booting up Isabelle’s gold MacBook, I scoured the internet for available rentals. It was late August, and pickings were going to be slim since most people had nailed down their living arrangements by now. Until recently, I thought I was one of them.

As I scrolled through the listings, my worst fears were confirmed. Rentals for the two of us were a non-starter. Nearly everything was taken, and whatever was available was double what we could afford. Iz had done some research as well, but so far, we hadn’t had any luck finding a place to share or a place of my own.

My other close friends were dead ends, too. Hannah had just moved in with her boyfriend, and Ava was sharing an already-cramped three-bedroom house with three other girls, which was hardly any better than my situation with Isabelle. I could contact a few other girls from my nursing cohort, but I’d be grasping at straws.

Sprawled on my makeshift couch-bed, I scanned the campus intranet ads making a list of ads for roommates with my sparkly purple gel pen in the notebook beside me. Since the school verified the listings to ensure that only registered students could place ads, this seemed like the safest way to go.

Like I had expected, I wasn’t having much luck. When I contacted the handful that looked passable, they had since been filled. At this rate, I was sure I’d be squatting in the pool house forever. I was about to abandon the MacBook in favor of some escapist reality TV when I noticed a newer ad at the bottom of the page.

Room for rent in 2BR loft-style condo. Private bathroom. Spacious, quiet, and clean. Located in a great area within walking distance to Bruder College. Non-smoking, mature college student desired.

It sounded perfect, so it was probably filled already. Still worth a try. I texted the number listed in the ad:

Hey, is the room for rent still available? If so, I’d like to come check it out. Let me know what time works for you. - Ryan

I held my breath, waiting impatiently for a reply. This was my last chance. It was this or crawling back to the dorms—assuming they even had the space for me on campus. Staring at my phone didn’t prove to be helping, so I decided to make a cup of tea for distraction. My phone chimed as I was filling the kettle. I dashed back into the living room, bracing myself for disappointment.

Still available. Rent is $500/month. 2550 Auburn Lane, unit 605. 7 PM tonight?

Score. Five hundred a month for my own space and my own bathroom would be a bargain. There had to be some kind of catch, another case of too-good-to-be-true. The place was probably infested with ants or something. But at this point, it was worth a shot. What did I have to lose?

CHAPTER TWO

Ryan

The glass and steel exterior of a stunning, modern, low-rise apartment building glinted before me in the dwindling sunlight. It was just before seven, and I was parked on the street, certain that I had to be mistaken.

This can’t be right, can it? I rechecked the address: 2550 Auburn Lane, a building that Isabelle and I drove by on our way to yoga. We had always fantasized about living in it, but the units for rent were owned privately and were always way beyond our price range. The place itself was sure to be livable. More than livable, given that this was a luxury complex.

Only one question mark remained: the roommate. After living in a dorm for two years, I was no stranger to bad roommates. Isabelle and I met when we were grouped in a four-girl dorm room freshman year, which included a girl who stole my clothes, wore them in front of me, and then lied about it to my face. It was a rough situation, and the school had refused to do anything about it.

At least in this scenario, I was the one screening my potential roommate rather than the faceless, bureaucratic campus housing authority. Though I wasn’t exactly in a position to be picky, either.

Coasting down the entry ramp, I circled the underground parking structure, straining in the dim light to locate a vacant visitor parking spot. As I rounded the corner, I saw a lone empty stall ahead on the right. I had just turned my signal light on when a shiny white new-model truck approached from the other direction, swooping in and taking the spot before I could blink. I beeped my horn at the driver, who stuck his hand out and waved me off. Asshole.

He parked and got out of the truck, jogging away. I had to admit, he was a hot asshole. Athletic build, with broad shoulders and a tall frame; I was a sucker for tall guys. Too bad this one just screwed me over for that parking spot and set me behind schedule. I hoped that my lateness wouldn’t reflect poorly on me to the potential roommate. If this fell through, I was out of options.

***

Ethan

The condo doorbell chimed a few minutes past seven, letting me know the guy who texted about the ad had arrived. I buzzed him up, noting that punctuality wasn’t his strong suit. One strike against him already.

I’d received a few inquiries about my spare room for rent but I hadn’t found anyone I was willing to live with so far. I was in no hurry. Technically, I didn’t need anyone to help me carry the costs of the mortgage, so I could afford to be picky. And I needed to be picky, after the fallout from my last roommate.

A few minutes later, someone rapped on the door. I walked to the door, took a deep breath, and prayed. Please don’t be a weird, balding, middle-aged dude in a Garfield T-shirt like the last guy who answered my ad. While he may have technically been taking college courses, he wasn’t what I had in mind when I specified college student in the listing.

On the other side of the door, I found just the opposite; there was a cute, curvy brunet standing before me, wearing ripped jeans and a tight white T-shirt. Upon closer inspection, she looked a little like the same brunet whose spot I had poached in the basement parking garage. I knew everyone in the building and she’d definitely stuck out. What the hell?

“You?”

“You!” She narrowed her doe-like brown eyes.

“Are you here because I stole your parking spot?” I fought back a sheepish grin.

“No, I’m here about the roommate ad.” She looked at me like I was losing my mind. “But why did you do that, anyway? Don’t you have your own spot?”

Well, now I felt like a dick. I shrugged. I didn’t really have an excuse. I was in a hurry and the spot was closer to the elevator than my unit’s assigned stall.

“Sorry about that. I thought I would be late for this meeting. You’re Ryan?” If so, she was the hottest Ryan I’d ever met.

She nodded. “Yep. Ryan Winters.”

“You’re here . . . about the room for rent?”

She nodded again, giving me a funny look. “Yep.”

Was Axel playing some weird practical joke on me? It wouldn’t be the first time, and this was his style. Just like the time he replaced my hockey helmet with a bubble gum pink one before the biggest game of the year. He thought it was funny; the other team thought it was hilarious.

“You want to live . . . here?”

“What is this, twenty questions?” She laughed, gesturing to the door. “Are you going to let me in, or what?”

I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I didn’t want to be inhospitable. I decided to roll with it and give her a tour. We started with the spare bedroom and bathroom upstairs, then the living room and office on the main floor, ending in the kitchen.

“Ooh, I love it! ” She gave the kitchen the once-over with an approving nod. “Really industrial vibe.”

“Thanks.” I was proud of it because I’d picked out the concrete countertops and glossy modern cabinets when I bought the unit pre-construction. I couldn’t decorate worth a damn, but I thought I had done a good job with the bones of the place.

“It’s pretty big, huh?” She was clearly referring to the condo. I was sorely tempted to make a crude/clever joke about size, and I silently congratulated myself for exercising restraint. I didn’t want to be a creep right off the bat.

“It’s a good size. About eleven hundred square feet.” We walked back into the living room, lingering as neither of us quite knew what to do next. “Hey, do you want something to drink? We can chat for a minute.”

She shrugged. “Sure, sounds good.”

I sat down beside her on the charcoal sectional in my living room, opened two cans of lime sparkling water, and handed her one.

She extended a well-manicured hand to accept it. “Sparkling water, eh? I would have pegged you for a beer guy.”

“Sometimes. But I keep a strict diet overall because of training,” I explained. She nodded vaguely, like she didn’t know what I was referring to but didn’t want to admit it.

“So . . . Ryan. I have to admit, I was expecting a guy. What’s the story behind your name?”

“Technically, it is considered unisex.” She gave me a wry smile. “My mom is a big feminist. She thought it would give me a leg up when submitting resumes in the workforce. Something about studies showing that women are less likely to receive job interviews.”

Weird. But I couldn’t say that without offending her. Instead, I nodded. “Huh. I guess that makes sense.”

“Except, I decided to become a nurse. Which is pretty much the most female-dominated field there is anyway.”

“You’re in the nursing faculty?”

Dumb question, Ethan. That’s what she just said. The whole nurse thing was kind of sexy. Wait, sexy is bad. Sexy isn’t for roommates. Stop it.

“I’m double-majoring, actually, and my other major is psychology.” She crossed her legs, shifting her weight. “It’s just a few extra courses. What about you, what are you taking?”

That explained why I hadn’t seen her before. The nursing and social sciences buildings were located on the opposite side of campus from the business school. A double major was impressive though; she seemed smart. Another turn-on. Shit.

“Management with a major in finance.”

She thoughtfully looked me over. “Yeah, you seem like the type.”

I placed my hand on my chest in pretended offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing bad. You just have a nice place, you’re well-dressed, it fits. That’s all,” she said.

I made a mental note that the new distressed jeans I was wearing were a hit. Then I kicked myself for caring. She wasn’t here to get hit on.

“I should probably mention that I’m gone a lot because of hockey,” I said. “We have a lot of late practices and road games.”

“Oh. Cool.”

That was the biggest non-reaction I had ever seen. Really? At our small, sports-oriented college, hockey was a Really Big Deal. Most people around campus were familiar with the team—and me.

“I’m the captain,” I added, waiting for her to make the connection. Then I wondered why I was trying so hard to impress her. It seemed backward—a potential roommate should be the one trying to impress me—but I couldn’t help myself.

“Ah.” She remained unfazed. Either she was a convincing actress, or she genuinely had no idea who I was. “What do you say? Is the room still available?”

“You still want the room?” I asked. “Even though I’m…”

“A guy?” Ryan finished.

“Well, yeah.” My father would probably have a stroke if he knew I had a girl living with me. But I supposed that was a notch in the pro column, all things considered.

“It doesn’t bother me.” She arched a brow. “Does it bother you? Are you opposed to living with nurses? Or girls?”

Was she implying that I couldn’t handle living with a girl? She was a bit of a ballbuster, which I liked. It could keep things interesting.

“I’ve had a female roommate before, and it was fine. It’s not a big deal.” It had been my older cousin, Sophie. But that still counted. Kind of.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Ryan huffed a sigh of relief, flopping back onto the couch. “This was my last resort.”

She finished her drink, then stood up. “I should get going, I still have tons of laundry to do at home. Er, at Isabelle’s. Where I’m staying.” Her eyes darted to me warily and she hesitated for a moment. Ryan gestured between us. “This won’t be weird… right?”

“It won’t be weird unless we make it weird.” I walked her to the front door, keeping a neutral expression and trying to give off the vibe of a modern, mature adult.

“Exactly,” she said. “And we won’t make it weird.”

“Shoot me a text tomorrow and we can figure out the details.”

“Perfect.” With a wave, she turned on her heel and headed down the hall.

I locked the door behind her, mind spinning. I had enjoyed meeting her, maybe a little too much. Living with her could be a mistake, and I couldn’t afford to make any more of those. I had things under control now, after my brief derailment last spring. I was killing it on the ice and consistently making the dean’s list. I’d lived through a hellacious breakup, and I’d gone on a month-long bender and slept my way across campus. After which our coach had given me a straight talk and threatened me with probation. When I realized I was putting my entire future at risk, I came to my senses. I’d been single for nine months and counting. Life was easy—simple—and I had no desire to mess with that. My policy was no hooking up, no dates, no drama, and no heartbreak.

Sinking onto the couch, I surveyed the quiet condo, weighing my options: take my chances living with Ryan or remain in my self-imposed solitude. Coming home to an empty condo was downright depressing some days, and a roommate could solve that without the complications of a relationship.

What did it matter if she was hot? So were lots of the girls who I’d turned down over the past few months; there was no reason this had to be any different. We could simply be two mature roommates. Totally platonic. Right?

CHAPTER THREE

Ryan

“Ethan Russell?” Isabelle’s words were muffled by a mouthful of sweet-and-sour chicken. She swallowed and continued in apparent disbelief, “You’re moving in with Ethan. Freaking. Russell?”

It was the middle of the day and Isabelle and I were curled up on the couch (aka my bed), eating Chinese takeout. I scooped up another bite of chow mein with my chopsticks and verified that was what I’d said. Iz gaped at me, lost for words.

Why was she so worked up? Finding a viable living arrangement had been a huge relief. I’d expected Isabelle to be relieved, too; it would be better for both of us if I could get moved and settled before classes started. Coexisting in a four-hundred square-foot box—however luxurious it may be—would get old, fast.

“He seems normal enough, and the price is right. Plus, it’s a really nice place.”

His condo was gorgeous. Floor-to-ceiling windows, hardwood flooring. It even had a hot tub on the patio, which I hadn’t known was possible in a condo. Ethan said something about it being permitted because he had the penthouse. A penthouse.

If I was being honest, he was gorgeous too. But I told myself that didn’t factor into my decision. And I definitely didn’t admit that part to Iz.

Plus, as much as I loved her, I was nearly giddy at the thought of having my own personal space again. A bedroom with an actual door and my own bathroom en suite, where I didn’t have to fight for counterspace with Isabelle’s supply of cosmetics big enough to stock a Sephora.

“Are you sure this isn’t some weird rebound reflex thing, Ry?” Isabelle pinned me with her sky-blue eyes. “Since . . . you know.”

Was it? It hasn’t really occurred to me. My attempts to forget about my ex, Levi, must have been working, at least a little. A summer away from him had certainly helped. I actually felt over it, over him, even being back in Boston.

“No. It has nothing to do with that. Or him,” I said firmly. “At this point, it’s just my best option. What’s the big deal?”

She ripped open a packet of soy sauce, rolling her eyes as she doused her rice with it. “Don’t you read To the Letter?”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“The gossip site about the school’s athletes and all of their juicy scandals?” Isabelle looked at me like I was some kind of alien. She continued, waving her chopsticks for dramatic effect, “Who’s sleeping with whom, who’s failing their classes, who’s doping. I mean, allegedly.”

“Can’t say I have,” I admitted. As a communications major, things like that were more in her wheelhouse. Isabelle loved herself some gossip.

“You should,” she admonished me, adding, “If you did, you would know that Ethan is practically untouchable. In addition to being incredibly hot, he’s the captain of the Bruder Bobcats.”

“I know that part, he mentioned it when he showed me the apartment. I just didn’t quite put two and two together with the whole houseless issue hanging over my head.”

Isabelle laughed. “He must have thought you were so weird.”

At our college, varsity hockey was highly competitive. I didn’t follow sports, but I had probably seen him before in some campus publication. Many Bruder graduates went on to be drafted by the NHL, AHL, or European hockey teams. There were always ads plastered around campus promoting our sports teams, trying to encourage school spirit among the student body; often, they featured pictures of the more prominent athletes. Knowing our school, he probably had his own billboard somewhere on the quad.

“Maybe? So, he’s good-looking and he’s an athlete. Still not getting what the big deal is over this guy. Athletes really aren’t my type,” I reminded her. “They don’t exactly have the best reputations when it comes to dating, either.”

The whole hockey player persona was a complete turn-off. Athletes always seemed to have an ego thing going on that rubbed me the wrong way. Not to mention, all the stories flying around campus about their womanizing and inability to be faithful. Arrogant cheaters? No thanks. Been there, done that with my ex.

Isabelle shook her head. “No, he’s different. He’s surrounded by groupies constantly, but he never hooks up with anyone. That’s unheard of for a varsity athlete at his level. I mean, some of the guys have girlfriends and even half of them still hook up, but he doesn’t. He is a total anomaly. It’s fascinating.”

“I don’t see what’s so crazy about that. I don’t like casual sex either.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a six-foot-four, young, sexy athlete constantly surrounded by hot, willing babes.” She paused, furrowing her brow in thought. “I think he had a girlfriend once. Some say he’s on a celibacy kick. Others claim he’s just extremely, extremely picky and that no woman has ever lived up to his expectations.”

“It’s looking like this or the dorms for me, at this point. I think I’m going to take my chances and give it a shot,” I said. If anything, this sounded like a roommate selling point; I knew he wouldn’t hit on me and wouldn’t be bringing a rotating parade of girls home all the time. “Worst case, I move back in with you. My couch-bed will always be here, right?”

CHAPTER FOUR

Ryan

Wedging the stack of boxes I was holding between my thigh and the wall, I fumbled to unlock the door to Ethan’s condo using the code he texted me. The lock clicked and I shoved the door open with my hip, the boxes dangerously close to tumbling. Ethan must have heard the commotion because he appeared and opened the door all the way, catching my cargo just as it started to fall.

He was wearing a fitted black T-shirt and charcoal athletic pants and somehow, he still looked hot. It was unfair that he looked so good in what basically amounted to sweats. Then again, with a body like his, almost anything would look good.

With limited success, I tried not to ogle him. It didn’t help that he was even better looking than I’d remembered from our first meeting. I reminded myself what I had told Isabelle earlier: Athletes aren’t my type.

“Why didn’t you text me?” he scolded, surveying the boxes I’d deposited in the hall. “I would have come down to help you unload these.”

“I don’t know,” I said, still breathless from dragging the boxes from the car to the elevator and then down the hall. “I didn’t think I had that much to bring up.”

“Women,” he sighed, biceps bulging against his sleeves as he carried the boxes in. Not that I was looking or anything. “I feel bad sitting on my ass while you were carrying these. Please, let me help you. I’ll bring in the rest.”

Ethan Russell, a gentleman? Who knew? I wasn’t turning down the help. After moving out of my mother’s and then staying at Isabelle’s temporarily before relocating here, I was sick of dragging these annoying boxes around. I was developing a bit of a cube phobia at this point.

As I waited, I surveyed the condo again and a small thrill ran through my body. I couldn’t believe I would be living here. It was by far the nicest place I had ever lived. The living room had a view of the river and there was a round, oversized armchair in the corner, the perfect space to curl up with a good book and a mug of tea.

Ethan brought the final box up to the second floor and put it in my new bedroom. “Is that the last of it?” he called from the loft balcony that overlooked the living room.

“Yeah. I still need to go to IKEA and buy some actual furniture. I don’t have a bed or a dresser yet, or even a lamp,” I explained, slightly embarrassed. I didn’t need much in the dorms. I’d only brought five boxes with me, filled mostly with clothes and personal items. Ethan had a fully furnished condo and here I was, living like a bag lady.

Ethan checked his phone as he came back downstairs. “It’s only three. Want to go now? I can drive and my truck will fit everything. And then I can help you get all of the bigger stuff upstairs.”

“Oh, I know all about that truck. I remember it clearly from when you swooped in and stole my rightful parking spot.”

“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” He had the most charming dimple in his right cheek that I hadn’t noticed before. I needed to stop noticing these things. Brains should come with some kind of mute button for details better left ignored.

“Probably not. But as for IKEA, don’t feel obligated. I can find someone else to go with me if you have other things to do.”

As nice as it would be to get to know him better, I didn’t want to impose. Especially if he felt like he had to help me; I hated asking people for help.

“No, it’s fine,” he insisted as he threw on a black zip-up hoodie. “Classes haven’t started yet and practice is at six tonight. I can help you put it all together after that.”

“Believe it or not, some women can actually wield tools. I’ll be just fine assembling it all,” I assured him.

A look of disbelief flashed across his face. “All right.”

We headed down to the parking garage. As he walked around to the driver’s side of the truck, I caught myself totally checking out his ass. I couldn’t help myself; it was so muscular and firm. I just wanted to touch it. Isabelle wasn’t kidding that hockey players had nice butts.

And then, even his truck smelled delicious, like a good men’s cologne mixed with cinnamon. Heaven help me, I was trying to keep my cool. I took a deep, calming breath and busied myself with looking out the window so I wouldn’t stare at him.

“You asked me, but I never asked you: why did you need an apartment on such short notice?” Ethan asked as he pulled out of the parking garage. “Did you break up with your boyfriend or something?”

Is he fishing to see if I have a boyfriend?

“No. My best friend and I were supposed to share a place this year, but it fell through at the last minute,” I said.

“She bailed on you?” he asked. “That sucks.”

“The sleazy landlord did,” I explained. “Isabelle had a backup place and I didn’t, so it was this or beg campus housing to accommodate me in the dorms. Who knows what I’d have ended up with then.”

He snorted. “I suffered through one year of dorm life, and that was more than enough for me.” The corners of his mouth tugged up. “I can assure you, you’ll enjoy yourself a lot more living with me than you would being stuck in the dorms.”

That was what I was afraid of.

***

Ethan

When I returned home at nine, I fully expected to find the second-floor hallway in a disarray of boxes, furniture parts, and screws. Surprisingly, the place was spotless. I knocked on Ryan’s door and found her folding clothes on her new bed, watching a TV that she had mounted on the wall herself. A new desk and chair were situated along the adjacent wall.

She had already assembled all the furniture and there was no sign of boxes. She must have already taken them down to the basement for recycling. She’d even hung pictures—which, when I first moved in, had taken me longer than I cared to admit. Had she borrowed my drill? I was impressed.

“It looks great in here,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. The furniture was all white, and the room had an airy, beachy vibe. She had a great eye for decorating, at least compared to my “when in doubt, go for black leather” strategy.

Ryan glanced up and reached for the remote, muting the television. “Thanks. I wanted to be organized before classes start on Monday.”

There was a pang of guilt in my gut. I hadn’t thought about how stressed she must have felt between moving in and trying to get settled, and now I wished I’d been able to offer more help. “By the way, I’m having a small party tomorrow night for my friend Axel’s birthday.”

“A small party? Elaborate. On a scale from get-together to ‘epic blowout kegger,’ where will this party fall?”

“Somewhere in the middle? I don’t have parties every weekend or anything like that, if that’s what you’re worried about. But this is his twenty-first birthday, so it’s kind of a big deal. He’s the last one to finally be legal. Obviously, you’re welcome to come and invite a few friends if you want.”

She looked at the ceiling and scrunched up her face, pondering. I waited for her response and realized I was holding my breath, hoping she would say yes.

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

I’ll think about it? Most girls fell all over themselves to get an invitation to our team parties. I had witnessed legitimate physical altercations break out over them. But Ryan seemed genuinely indifferent. Who was this girl?

“Cool. And normally, I’d give you more notice before doing something like this. This was just something I’ve had planned for a while now,” I told her apologetically.

“No worries,” she said.

I headed downstairs to make some food, wondering what the hell had just happened. I wasn’t sure why I felt so compelled to explain myself to her. This was my place, and this party had been in the works for weeks.

I wanted to make a good impression on her. This was a slippery slope. I had to remind myself to keep my eyes on the prize: this year was only about school and hockey.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ryan

I had a feeling that Ethan expected me to jump at his invitation to join their party—so I made a point not to. Of course I wanted to go, but I didn’t want my new roommate to think I had the hots for him. Even if, well, I kind of did. It was just a superficial attraction; I couldn’t see myself actually liking a big-deal athlete on any sort of deeper, emotional level.

Maybe he would have some cute friends at the party who could distract me. Friends that weren’t hockey players. Friends that I didn’t live with. A friend of my roommate would at least be a more appropriate choice than my actual roommate.

After he left my room, I called Isabelle to tell her about the party and ask her to come.

“Hey, Ryan! You’re just on Bluetooth in my car in case this sounds weird or I lose you. All settled in?”

“Just about,” I sighed. “It’s been a long day, but I’m nearly done unpacking. Now that my furniture is assembled, I just have to put away all my clothes.”

“I’m sorry about all of that. I feel horrible about the apartment,” she said. Her guilt was palpable. I was sure she was more upset than me about the whole debacle.

“Don’t sweat it, Iz. Everything seems to have worked out okay. Not that I won’t miss you, of course,” I reassured her as I sorted through a pile of sweaters.

“I miss you, too. We still have to do sleepovers on the regular.”

“Definitely,” I said. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Going out with Jake. Dinner and then some back-to-school party with his finance bros, I think. Why, what’s going on tomorrow? Want to come to the party with me?”

“Ethan is having a party here. I thought you could come if you weren’t busy. It’s someone’s birthday. Alex?”

“Axel?” The volume of Isabelle’s voice climbed a notch.

“Yeah, that’s it. But if you have plans, it’s okay.”

She paused, but I got the sense that her mind was already made up. It would be out of character for Isabelle to turn down a party filled with hot, eligible athletes.

“You know what, I can reschedule with Jake.”

“Really? You don’t have to, Iz. It’s not a big deal,” I told her. “I just feel kind of weird being there without any friends of my own. I can find something else to do tomorrow night.”

“No, it’ll be fun. And it’ll be a good icebreaker for you and your new roommate.”

“Won’t Jake be upset?”

“Nah,” she said. “He’ll live.”

He was a finance major who’d been chasing Isabelle for a while, now. Despite her easy, breezy attitude about the date, I didn’t think he’d take being ditched quite so lightly.

***

After teaching two hot yoga classes at Nirvana Yoga Spa the following morning, I popped into the locker room to use their rain shower and get ready. Wrapped in one of the spa’s fluffy white robes, I took my time drying my hair and putting on makeup. This morning, I’d had to scamper upstairs quickly when Ethan came home from practice while I was making tea, still wrapped in a towel. Awkward. The one downside to living with a guy was that I now had to be fully dressed, all the time. It would take some getting used to.

Once I’d left the yoga spa, Isabelle dragged me to the mall and held me hostage until we found what she deemed the perfect outfits. Perfect seemed to be a moving target, unfortunately, and this consumed most of the afternoon.

Isabelle gently grabbed my elbow, steering me into Elevate. Racks of trendy clothes surrounded us, with hefty price tags to match. I told myself this was a rare back-to-school splurge; once classes started, I probably wouldn’t be attending many parties with my loaded schedule.

“How about this one?” I asked, holding up a pale pink tank top with a ruffled hem.

She wrinkled her nose. “Too matronly.”

Matronly? It had a plunging V-neck that would show an ample amount of cleavage. If this was matronly, I was a little worried what kind of look we were aiming for tonight.

“This?” I held up a black spaghetti strap sundress that hit mid-calf. It was lightweight and silky, and I thought it was pretty.

“Perfect. If you’re a nun out on the town.”

“What exactly are we looking for?”

“I can’t explain it. But I’ll know it when I see it,” she said confidently.

She flipped through the clothing racks, examining each item with a determined, critical eye. It was like a hybrid of Mission: Impossible and Project Runway.

“This looks like it came straight out of Whoville. And this one looks 90s, but in a bad way. And this—just, why?” she shook her head in disgust at an offending shirt that was unworthy of further criticism.

I should have packed snacks. I had the feeling we’d be here awhile. And if Isabelle got hangry, we would really be in trouble.

“Jackpot!” she said, handing me a red crop top. “This is perfect.”

I cringed. Baring my stomach wasn’t within my comfort zone.

“How about something in the middle?” I suggested, holding up a similar tank that showed less skin. “This is cute.”

“Ooh, I like that. Okay, you go try that on. We still have to find something for me.”

At this rate, I was wondering whether we would even finish shopping in time for the party.

After a few more hours, we finally left armed with clothes that I hoped were on the classy side of sexy rather than the skanky side. But honestly, that was debatable.

By the time we returned to the condo, a few of Ethan’s teammates were already over watching a baseball game in the living room. My god, were all the guys on this hockey team good-looking? How was that even statistically possible? It was like a lineup of hot, hotter, and hottest—the hottest being Ethan, who I did my best to ignore.

We did some quick introductions that I knew I was bound to forget because I was terrible with names: Smith (hipster cool, with dark hair and light eyes), Geoff (curly brown hair, all-American good looks), and Luca (black hair, piercing brown eyes). To Isabelle’s disappointment, Axel hadn’t yet arrived. Then, I ushered Iz upstairs to my room so that we could get changed.

Since it was her goal to work in broadcasting, Isabelle fancied herself an amateur makeup artist. She insisted on doing mine for the party, claiming it was a special occasion. After I straightened my hair, she went to work giving me gray, smoked-out eyes and nude, glossy lips.

“There. Perfect,” she said, once she’d applied false lashes.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much?” I asked her, using my phone’s camera to check my makeup from the side.

As someone who primarily worked in hospitals and a hot yoga studio, I wasn’t accustomed to wearing much makeup and I felt a little self-conscious wearing the whole nine yards. It did look nice, but it was awfully sultry. Especially combined with the outfit she had helped me pick out.

“You look amazing,” she said with a wink. “Sexy.”

“Psh,” I replied, laughing. “You’re just saying that because it’s your handiwork. Plus, everyone knows you’re the sexy one.”

It was true. She was model-tall with long, to-die-for natural blond hair and piercing green eyes. Guys were crazy for her. It was actually kind of ridiculous. One time, I saw a guy miss his mouth and pour half a drink down the front of his shirt because he was so busy gaping at her. Of course, Isabelle didn’t even notice him.

“No, you have the whole mysterious brunet thing going on. It totally works.” She yanked open my bedroom door, motioning for me to go first.

***

Ethan

Ryan walked into the living room looking like something out of a magazine. My breath caught at the sight of her. Her glossy chestnut hair fell around her breasts, displayed in a low-cut red tank top; it took all my willpower not to stare at her cleavage. Maybe this did have the potential to get a little weird after all. Fuck me.

Axel gave them a wolfish grin and whistled. “Hellooooo, ladies. Is this my birthday present, Ethan?” he joked.

Isabelle giggled flirtatiously. Axel was a ladies’ man, one of the biggest on campus; I could already tell where this was heading.

“Don’t make me punch you in the throat on your birthday,” I warned in a low voice. Turning to Ryan and Isabelle, I said, “There’s beer in the cooler out on the patio, or harder stuff in the kitchen. Help yourselves to whatever you want.”

“Beer, Iz?” Ryan asked. Isabelle nodded, still making eyes at Axel. The two of them headed outside to the patio, slamming the door behind them. All four of the guys watched as they made their exit.

Looking at the group in front of me—Axel, Smith, Geoff, and Luca—I laid down some ground rules: “Now, before they’re back, a few reminders: Ryan is off limits. Off limits. I don’t need any drama coming into my home life. As for her friend, I don’t care so much as long as you aren’t a dick to her. Clear?”

“Off limits to everyone, or everyone but you?” Axel said with a smirk. The rest of the guys laughed, joking about me being a cockblocker. I shot them a look and they quieted.

I tilted my head, giving Axel an are-you-kidding-me glare. “Throat. Punch.”

“Okay, okay. Point taken.” He held up his hands. The other guys nodded, muttering sounds of agreement. Axel dropped his voice, leaning closer. “But you have to admit, you were totally checking her out when she came downstairs.”

Dammit. Guess I was more obvious than I’d thought. I’d need to work on that. In my defense, it had been a while since a woman had such a strong effect on me.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Ryan and Isabelle walked back inside, and I shot Axel a final warning look before waving them over. “Why don’t we play some drinking games?”

CHAPTER SIX

Ryan

I lined up, aimed, and fired. The ping pong ball plopped into the red solo cup with a fizz.

“Nailed it. You are a beer pong boss!” said Smith, giving me a high five.

We’d been playing as a team and so far, we were unstoppable. Six other teams had challenged us and failed. We were singlehandedly getting the rest of the party smashed.

It was eleven and the party was full throttle. I’d been nervous about meeting so many new people, but Ethan’s friends were great. I’d thought some of them might have been hitting on me earlier, while a few of them seemed afraid to talk to me. But they were all nice enough.

Smith was probably my favorite because he was friendly, without any obvious agenda, and he was hilariously sarcastic. With hipster glasses and dark, spiky hair, he was cute in a nerdy-hot kind of way. Not my type, but we could definitely become friends.

There was a loud knock at the door, followed by some commotion . Axel came over to us, looking uneasy. I was surprised he’d managed to break himself free from Isabelle’s lips; they’d been all over each other the entire evening.

“Smith,” said Axel tersely. I could swear he had turned several shades paler. “Alexis is here.”

Smith made a face and groaned, “Shit. Who invited her?”

The atmosphere grew awkward at an alarming rate. I left them to discuss whatever this Alexis situation was. I was clearly missing some backstory there.

After two beers, I felt bloated and needed something lighter, and vodka soda would do the trick. Ethan was in the kitchen, standing at the counter and mixing a mystery concoction in a cup. He opened a bottle of liquor and poured it in without measuring. Tasting it, he frowned, and dumped another kind of liquor into the mix. I wondered if he knew what he was doing or if he was just drunk.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, leaning against the counter beside me, slurping his sewer sludge. He seemed more sober than I’d expected given whatever it was that he was drinking.

His fitted V-neck matched his cobalt eyes. If he had been some random guy at a party, I would have been tempted to flirt. I was tempted to flirt with him, but I reminded myself that I could enjoy the view and that was all.

I grabbed a plastic cup and poured some vodka into it. I didn’t want to get sloppy, so I went light on the liquor, heavy on the club soda and ice. “Yeah, I’m having a lot of fun.”

He grinned. “I think your friend Isabelle is, too,” he said, gesturing to the corner where Iz and Axel were making out again. Or more like, were eating each other’s faces. Yuck. I would have told them to get a room, but that would have probably been my room, and no thanks.

Suddenly, a sugary-sweet female voice chimed in from behind us, “Why Ethan, you didn’t tell me you had a new friend.”

When I turned around, there was a gorgeous girl with long sandy hair and tanned, glowing skin standing in the kitchen. She teetered on gold stilettos, her white denim cutoffs showcasing her mile-long legs. She was very intimidating—and I wasn’t easily intimidated.

“Alexis,” she said, sizing me up from head to toe. “Ethan’s girlfriend. And you are?”

It was like one of those scenes in a movie where there’s a record scratch and everything goes silent. The whole party stopped to stare at us.

“She means ex-girlfriend,” Ethan snapped. “We broke up last year. This is Ryan, my new roommate.”

Her nostrils flared as anger flickered across her pretty face for a nanosecond. It was brief, but I saw it. She did not like the idea of me living with Ethan.

Alexis said, “Nice to meet you, Ryan,” but I could tell that she really meant ‘fuck you.’

She batted her eyes and added with mock confusion, “Ethan hasn’t really talked about you at all.”

Was that supposed to be some kind of dig? I knew that I would probably regret it, but I wasn’t in the mood to be shit-talked.

Ethan opened his mouth to interject. Before he could, I smiled and answered innocently, “Funny, Ethan’s never mentioned you either.”

Off to the side, Geoff playfully punched Luca on the arm, Smith’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Ethan’s mouth quirked at the corners, but he kept a straight face.

She sneered at me for a moment. Finally, she regained her composure, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin.

“I’m going to find my friends. Ethan, we have to talk later. Alone,” she snapped, marching away.

An hour later, I was upstairs in my bathroom, fiddling with the tweezers and eyelash glue—again. I should never have let Iz talk me into these false eyelashes. They were a terrible idea.

The left strip of eyelashes stubbornly refused to stay put. It kept drooping into my line of sight like a dead spider. I felt more Tammy Faye than femme fatale.

Muffled voices were arguing in Ethan’s room next door. It probably wasn’t any of my business, but I wanted to know what was going on. I put my ear up against the wall to see if I could make out what they were saying.

“Ethan . . . unacceptable . . . cannot live here,” a shrill female voice said.

A male voice argued back, “Not your decision, Alexis . . . can’t be friends . . . jealous.”

Ugh. I hoped I hadn’t caused this fight. I didn’t want to create problems for Ethan, and I didn’t want him to be upset with me if I had.

On the one hand, maybe it wasn’t entirely my fault—Alexis seemed like the type of person to bring trouble wherever she went all on her own. Introducing herself as his girlfriend when they’d been broken up for ages? What was up with that? On the other, my snarky retort probably hadn’t helped things, either. I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me.

A door slammed, followed by heavy footsteps clattering down the stairs. I paused, holding my breath and waiting for the second set of footsteps. It didn’t come. I decided to slink out and see if I could make it downstairs unnoticed.

Ethan’s room was between my room and the staircase. I was trying to ninja past when he opened his door, catching me in the act. I froze. He looked surprised to see me standing there.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

Stay cool, I told myself. “Just . . . freshening up.” I scrambled for an explanation, landing on, “My contacts were bothering me.”

Why did I just lie to him? That was a really stupid lie, too; I didn’t even wear contacts, and he was bound to find that out. Maybe he wasn’t big on details. Or maybe I could just pretend I’d had laser eye surgery at some later date.

He furrowed his brow. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Um, no. Maybe. Yes. Kind of,” I admitted. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” He shook his head, tension stretching across his features. ”I’m sorry. You shouldn’t feel uncomfortable in your own house. She’s just . . . she doesn’t respect boundaries sometimes. Ever, actually.”

My stomach flip-flopped. “Are you sure some of that wasn’t my fault? You know, because of what I said to her earlier.”

“No, my problems with Alexis significantly pre-date you.” His expression softened, and he nodded downstairs. “Let’s get back to the party. I’ll make sure she doesn’t give you a hard time.”

***

Ethan

The next morning, I met Geoff at the campus gym to train, which was our hangover ritual; a few Gatorades and some heavy weights, and you were almost as good as new. Unless you puked. But that didn’t happen too often.

“Dude,” he said, shaking his head as he came over to where I was at the bench press, “this roommate situation of yours is a seriously bad idea.”

I’d had the same thought, but it was too late now.

“What? It’s fine. I’ve lived with a girl before,” I said dismissively, pushing the Olympic bar overhead with a grunt.

His curly brown hair fell in his eyes as he peered down at me, raising an eyebrow. “You mean your cousin, after Hunter moved out? That doesn’t count. This Ryan chick is a dime piece. You’re going to end up hooking up. I’m calling it now: trouble.” He helped me re-rack the bar and I rolled off the bench, pushing to stand.

“I’m not looking to hook up with anyone. Between school and practice, I have enough going on.”

Though, I had to admit, he was right. Ryan was smoking hot. If things were different, I would have hooked up with her in a heartbeat. But things weren’t different.

“Exactly,” he groaned, straining under the weight of the bar. “You’re stressed out. And you know what’s a great stress reliever? Getting laid.”

“I don’t need to add any complications to my life right now,” I reminded him, tempted to drop the bar on him if he didn’t shut up.

“Too late, bro. You already did.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ryan

After surviving the first week of classes, Isabelle and I decided to catch up over sushi at our favorite place, Tokyo Corner. It was our go-to because their food was fresh and inexpensive, and most importantly, they had cute, private little booths where we could dish without the risk of being overheard by anyone from school.

While Iz was dying to hear the inside scoop about living with Ethan, I was desperately in need of some girl time. Ethan had been a decent enough roommate so far, but he wasn’t much for gossip. Actually, he wasn’t much for small talk full stop. I was having a hard time getting to know him beneath the superficial aspects of his personality. It was kind of like living with a 2-D cut-out of an attractive hockey player. I told myself he was just slow to warm up, but secretly I was getting worried that he never would.

“Guess who I saw the other day.” I dipped my cucumber roll into the dish of soy sauce in front of me.

Isabelle’s eyes narrowed. “Jerkface?”

“Yup. Unfortunately.”

It was impossible to avoid my ex, Levi. We were in the same nursing program, which made for some uncomfortable hallway encounters. “But you’ll be proud to know that I didn’t cry.”

This was a first, and a major accomplishment, for me.

“Good,” she said. “Did you kick him in the knee instead?”

“No.” I cringed. “He didn’t see me, so I ducked around the corner.”

Not my finest moment, but it spared both of us the pain of having to avoid making eye contact and pretending we didn’t know each other, which was my usual modus operandi.

Isabelle shrugged. “Hey, it’s progress. But I’m still Team Knee-kick.”

From beside the plate of California rolls, her cellphone started to buzz. The display read Axel calling. Axel? According to her, they hadn’t talked since she went home with him after his birthday party the previous weekend. It was clear there was more to it than she was letting on.

“Isabelle!” I pointed at the screen. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“It’s not a big deal.” She blushed, busying herself with pouring soy sauce into her dish. “We’ve just been talking, that’s all.”

“Is it serious? Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, a little stung. Iz wasn’t usually shy about her often colorful dating life. After living together for the first two years of college, I worried that living apart had placed some emotional distance between us as well.

Isabelle fiddled with her chopsticks and shrugged. “I don’t really know what it is yet. I guess I just didn’t want to jinx anything.” She hesitated, and then added in a low voice, “You know, there is something else I didn’t tell you.”

I raised my eyebrows. Usually, Isabelle told me everything. Even things I didn’t necessarily want to know. “Spill it.”

“Before the party, I had a little crush on Axel. Okay, make that a big crush. We were in the same freshman English class. Ethan was, too.” She paused, biting her lip. “But we never even spoke. It was the first semester of college, and I was just a dorky small-town girl. I don’t think either of them remembered me at the party.”

I doubted that very much. Guys always remembered Isabelle.

I took a piece of salmon sashimi and passed the tray back to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“At the time, you and I were still more roommates than friends. And now, well, it’s embarrassing. What would I even say, ‘I like this guy who I’ve never spoken to and I follow gossip about him on To the Letter’?” She cringed.

Taking a deep breath, she added, “But anyway, that’s why I was so excited about going to the party. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you; I just never thought anything would happen with him. I didn’t want to look like a stage-ten clinger.”

Most guys would be happy to be stalked by Isabelle, but I saw her point. It was always hard to put your feelings out there when you didn’t know how the other person felt. Still, she should have known that of all people, she could tell me about her secret infatuation.

“Clearly, you’re not a clinger if he’s calling you.” I poured more green tea for each of us. According to Ethan, Axel wasn’t known for having a long attention span with girls. For Iz’s sake, I hoped it would be different with her. I didn’t want her to get hurt.

“Fingers crossed.” Then, changing the subject, she said brightly, “How are things going living with one of the most eligible bachelors on campus?”

Good question. It seemed to be going fine so far, but it was hard to say for sure since neither of us had been home all that much. My shifts at the hospital were basically the opposite of his games. On the bright side, we were definitely not sick of each other.

“Fine, I think. We get along well.”

“What does your mom think about all of this?” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Did she freak out?”

A lump formed in my throat. “I—I haven’t exactly told her.”

“You haven’t? She doesn’t know you’re living there?”

“I mean, I gave her the address. She knows where I’m living. Just not with who.”

Isabelle’s eyebrows shot up. “Ms. Straight and Narrow is keeping a secret from her mom? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’ll tell her the truth eventually,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as Isabelle. “Just trying to think of the right way to approach it. You know, to make her understand that we’re just roommates, nothing more.”

“Just roommates.” She winked. “Sure.”

“We are,” I insisted. “I don’t think he’s attracted to me. He’s as cool as a cucumber when we’re together.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Didn’t you see his face when you came down the stairs the night of the party? It looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head.”

I had been so nervous about meeting new people that I hadn’t really noticed Ethan’s reaction. Still, that didn’t seem likely. If anything, he was probably checking Isabelle out. That would make more sense. By the night of the party, I was old news to him, his plain Jane roommate. Even more so now that he’d seen me in pajamas several times.

Not in the mood to be contrary, I just laughed. “If you say so.” I reached over, grabbing another tuna roll. “We agreed that we wouldn’t make things weird, so I don’t think anything will come of it either way.”

“Two single, attractive people living under the same roof. Yeah, what could possibly get weird?” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “It’s a matter of time, Ryan. Just a matter of time.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ethan

As I walked downstairs, I moved like the Tin Man in need of several gallons of WD-40. Despite the hot shower I’d just taken, my muscles ached from yesterday’s practice. I really needed to start getting more sleep to recover more effectively. Studying late into the night was helping my grades, but it was killing my game. Maybe I could use the foam roller I’d stashed under my bed. I hated that thing. It might be a torture device, but it worked.

Waiting for me on the main level was a living room that had been subjected to a total makeover, complete with a vase of fresh flowers sitting on the island. A pale blue blanket lay artfully draped over one arm of the sectional, while a gray blanket peeked out of a new wicker basket in the corner. And were those throw pillows? With tassels?

It was official: my bachelor pad had been feminized. I had to admit, though, it was an improvement.

I surveyed the contents of the fridge. My usual go-to would be a protein shake, but the blender was so loud you could hear it in the lobby, and I didn’t want to wake Ryan up. Finally, I settled on an omelet with ham and peppers, with an orange on the side.

I was nearly finished my breakfast when Ryan strolled into the kitchen. A small rush ran through me at the sight of her and I swallowed a bite of orange, tamping down on it.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Morning!” She breezed past where I was seated at the island and grabbed some vanilla yogurt out of the fridge. Smiling, she said, “I bought a few things to make it a little homier in here. I hope you don’t mind. I’m always cold, and you didn’t have any blankets.”

I was never cold—if anything, I ran hot all the time—so I hadn’t seen the need for them. Besides, wasn’t that what central heat was for?

“No, not at all. It’s your place, too. It looks good. But you can always adjust the thermostat if you need.”

Her gaze darted over to the wall-mounted thermostat, then back at me. “It just feels weird to curl up without a blanket.”

“I’m guessing this is a chick thing.”

Ryan turned away to fill the kettle, and my eyes caught on a white envelope sticking out of the flowers that I hadn’t noticed earlier. Curiosity got the best of me, and I slid the card out.

“So, who’s Levi?” I pointed to the dozen pink roses standing on the kitchen counter. I was trying not to act like I cared too much. In reality, I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to see some new boyfriend all over Ryan constantly. I mean, it had nothing to do with Ryan. I just didn’t want some random dude all up in my space all the time. Or at least that was what I was going to tell myself.

Ryan switched on the kettle and turned back to face me. “My ex.” She scooped up a spoonful of yogurt. “I should throw them out.”

“Ouch. It’s like that, huh?”

“Yeah.” Her expression was stony. “We haven’t spoken in a while. He must have gotten the address from my mother. I didn’t tell her all the gory details of our breakup.”

“Looks like he doesn’t want to be your ex,” I pointed out.

Ryan huffed. “I don’t care what he wants.”

“Didn’t end well, I take it?” I gathered my dishes and slid out of my seat, bringing them over to the sink.

“He cheated on me.”

Something tugged in my gut. Unfortunately, I was all too familiar with being on the receiving end of that treatment. All I wanted was to move on with my life and pretend it had never happened—which was difficult when Alexis insisted on remaining in my social orbit and I stupidly allowed her to. A small part of me still cared about her, and I hated that.

When I turned back to face Ryan, there was sadness across her face that made the pang in my gut intensify. “Sorry,” I said. “Alexis did the same thing to me.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you, too.” Ryan’s voice was soft.

There was a lull, and a trickle of anxiety crept into the back of my mind. Here I was, disclosing things to her that I rarely ever talked about, even with my friends. What was I thinking? I needed to rein it in.

“Well, let me know if you need me to rough him up a bit for you.” I bent down to load my cutlery into the dishwasher. Kidding not kidding. The guy sounded like a creep.

“Thanks, but probably not necessary. Though Isabelle would disagree.”

“Offer stands,” I said.

Ryan grinned. “Noted.”

My gaze fell to the clock on the microwave. Shit. I was needed to leave three minutes ago. “I’ve gotta run,” I told her. “Classes call.”

“See you later?”

“Probably not. We have a late game tonight, and sometimes I go out with the team after if we win.”

I might have been imagining it, I could have sworn there was a flash of disappointment across her face.

***

As I made my way across the quad to Strategic Management, my phone rang: it was my father. My initial reaction was to decline the call and deal with it later. Our relationship was strained at best and I never felt like engaging in forced conversation. But I made myself answer, figuring that it was better to get it over with now rather than let it hang over my head until I called him back.

“Hey, Dad.” I tried to sound casual. “I’m just heading into class in a few minutes.”

“Hi, son. I won’t keep you long. Just wanted to know how things were going with school. Keeping your grades up?”

Just as I’d suspected, he was calling to conduct his Quarterly Child Performance Review, and to issue me a failing grade. My father was always all business when we spoke. I wasn’t sure he even had feelings, but if he did, we never discussed them.

“It’s going well. Straight As so far, but we’re only two few weeks into the semester.”

“Good. Make sure you keep it that way.” Between school and hockey, holding down a part-time job was impossible. My father was a stickler when it came to education. The agreement was that he helped me out financially (generously so, hence the condo) as long as I stayed on the dean’s list. However, last year had been a little touch and go in terms of grades. I was on a short leash now.

“I will.”

“And hockey?” He asked gruffly.

I noted that he never asked how I was doing, only about hockey and school. My father tended to define people by what they did. And as the head of CityCap Financial, a top investment firm in New York City, professional athlete wasn’t what my father would have chosen for his only son’s career. He would have much preferred that I come to work with him after graduation and he made a point to remind me of that. Often.

I’d settled for majoring in finance to appease him while still focusing on what I wanted to do, which was play hockey and make it to the pros. On a practical level, I knew I was lucky to have a solid backup plan in case hockey didn’t work out. It was possible I could get injured and never play again, or I could be drafted and dropped. Having a lucrative job waiting for me was something that most college students would kill for, athlete or otherwise.

But sometimes it felt like my father didn’t support my dreams. Or worse yet, like he didn’t believe in me. My entire minor hockey career had fallen on my mother’s shoulders, because he was too “busy” to take me to practice and games. And tournaments? Forget about it. He hadn’t attended a single one when I was growing up.

“It’s going pretty well. Won’t start seeing any major action from the scouts until after Christmas.” I’d told him this before, but he tended to forget anything hockey-related. “How are Mads and Char?”

Madeline and Charlotte were my five-year old twin sisters—half-siblings from my father’s second wife, Blair. Blair was less than a decade older than I was, but I tried to ignore that uncomfortable fact. As did Blair. My sisters were adorable—and they knew it. I loved them, but they were so spoiled. Their bedrooms could have been mistaken for an American Girl doll store. And they each had their own nanny, even though Blair didn’t work outside of the home.

Absent during my own childhood, my father was trying to compensate by being the perfect dad the second time around. His misguided way of doing that was by indulging the twins in anything and everything they wanted. Unfortunately, he still worked hundred-hour weeks and hadn’t realized that the most important part of being a good parent was being present, both mentally and physically.

“Great. Top of the class at school and excelling at piano.” Top of the class in kindergarten, Dad? Yeesh. He’d turned into one of those parents.

He added, “They miss you, of course.”

“I miss them too. Tell them I say hi. Blair, too,” I said.

There was an awkward pause, and then he cleared his throat. “I’ll have my assistant call you closer to the date to discuss Thanksgiving,” he informed me and abruptly ended the call. Because it would be too normal to actually make plans directly with your own son, right?

After a long day of classes, including a mind-numbing two-hour accounting lab, I met Smith for some dinner on campus before we headed to evening practice. I was thrilled the hockey season had started again, and I was back in my element.

I’d missed this: the sound of blades gliding across the surface of the rink, the weight of the stick in my hand, even the glare of the arena lighting.

Every time I stepped out onto the ice, it felt like coming home.

Hockey had been my favorite sport for as long as I could remember. I learned how to skate shortly after I learned how to walk, and the rest was history. Whenever I was alone and needed to think, I would get on the rink and run drills, deking the puck over and over for hours. It was meditative for me.

And games were the complete opposite—fast-paced, with your adrenaline surging as you tried to outwit and outpace your opponent. Hockey was a much more strategic game than most people realized. It was almost like chess on extreme fast-forward.

The only downside to hockey starting was Hunter. I could have lived without seeing him all the time again. I would have liked to ignore him altogether, but I was forced to interact with him regularly as a part of my captain duties. And I had to be civil about it since it was my job to set an example for the rest of the team.

Even though he was on my team, I still cheered a little inside whenever an opponent crushed him during games.

As a junior hoping to be called up into the league this year or next, I had stepped up my training significantly. Life had been reduced to a grind of practice, class, dryland training, games, studying, and sleep. The guys from the team went out for drinks after every game, win or lose. Much to their chagrin, I joined them less than half of the time—usually to celebrate an especially stellar win.

Losses were a different story. I always felt responsible for our losses as team captain. While the team liked to drown their sorrows together, I preferred to go home and reflect on the game, trying to analyze where we had gone wrong and what we could improve upon.

Plus, I was trying to stay focused. The next two years were critical; scouts would be watching to see if I could handle the faster, more physical gameplay that being in the league would entail. If I was going to get signed, it would happen between now and the end of my senior year. I just had to keep my head in the game until then.

That was proving easier said than done with Ryan, though. Her presence was more of a distraction than I had anticipated. Objectively, she was a great roommate; she was tidy, which was a great match for my own neat-freak tendencies, and she didn’t invite people over often. Her candle obsession meant the house always smelled great. So far, I had no complaints.

I wasn’t home much, but I looked forward to seeing her when I was. And I felt comfortable with her. Well, comfortable except for the immense sexual tension I felt when she was around. I had to push those thoughts out of my mind multiple times a day.

She had mentioned that she was a yoga instructor, and it showed. Her body was smoking hot. She was smoking hot. It was hard to ignore that.

Even though I really, really tried.

CHAPTER NINE

Ryan

The first few weeks of the semester went by in a blur. Before I knew it, it was early October and my clinical placement for the term was well underway. It was in the pediatric ward, which was rewarding but also exhausting—both mentally and physically. I had been leaning toward pediatrics after graduation, but I was reconsidering after just a few weeks of working the floor. Although the kids were amazing, the heartbreak was too much—it was downright gutting at times. I knew that it was something that would get easier with time, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted it to.

The remainder of my classes consisted of anatomy and physiology, nursing pharmacology, and an abnormal psychology elective. I was teaching a handful of classes at the yoga studio as well. Needless to say, I hardly had any downtime. Ethan and I were like two ships passing in the night.

He was home about as infrequently as I was, and it was usually at different times. In theory, one might think this was ideal for a roommate but in reality, it was actually kind of disappointing. I liked spending time with him, and it rarely ever happened.

After a twelve-hour shift one night, my mom called my cell just as I walked in the door. When I tried to break the news to her about my living arrangement, she went into a tailspin.

I didn’t want to stress her out any further, so I may have fibbed and told her that Ethan was my friend Hannah’s cousin. I may have further embellished said fib by letting my mother believe that Hannah was living with us as well. She had been calling frequently to check up on me ever since.

I knew it was wrong, and I was screwed if she ever visited to find two bedrooms, not three—and no Hannah. But my mother’s head would have exploded if she knew I was living alone with a guy. After the usual greetings, my mom asked about school.

I replied, “It’s been hectic, but things are going really well. How’s work?” I hoped she wouldn’t ask me about my living arrangements again.

“Oh, pretty good. Phil’s caseloads have been heavy lately and it’s been keeping me busy too,” she said, pausing. “Listen, speaking of Phil, I need to tell you something.” She paused.

My mother was a paralegal for a successful lawyer, Phillip Matthews. She had been working for him for a few years now, ever since she left a larger firm due to lack of work/life balance. And by lack of balance, I mean the expectation was that employees didn’t have a life outside of work.

I’d only met Phil a handful of times, but I liked him. He was a sole practitioner in my hometown of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and it seemed like he treated his employees more humanely than most people in his field. My mother had described him as “unlike other lawyers” and it seemed she meant it as a compliment. At any rate, she’d been much happier since moving to his firm.

“What’s going on?”

I braced myself, praying she hadn’t quit or been laid off. As a paralegal, my mom’s salary wasn’t too high; sometimes she fussed over being unable to help me financially. But she was happy, and that was all I cared about. For myself, I had my part-time job, student loans, and scholarships. I may have been accumulating a mountain of debt to deal with later, bur that was unavoidable.

“Honey, Phil and I have sort of been seeing each other for a while now. It’s getting more serious, and I wanted you to know,” she explained hesitantly.

“Serious?” I asked. “Like…?”

“We’re talking about maybe getting married.”

I had not seen that coming. Dating the boss was downright scandalous by her standards. But I was thrilled to know that she was happily involved with someone, because she truly deserved it after sacrificing so many years raising me.

“Mom, that’s great. I’m so happy for you.”

“I know you probably won’t make it down for Thanksgiving, but I was wondering whether it would be okay with you if he joined us at Christmas?” she said nervously.

“Of course. I’ll be home from the twenty-third to the twenty-eighth. We can figure out all the details later, okay? I’m just going to shower and go to bed. I’m totally wiped. I love you,” I said. No talk about my living arrangement at least. Bullet dodged—for now.

***

Later that evening, the sound of someone shouting woke me from a deep sleep. I sat up in bed, heart thundering in my ears. I wondered if someone was breaking in, but that seemed unlikely in a secure condo building.

Then I realized that the person shouting was Ethan; he sounded distraught. Was he fighting with someone?

Throwing on my fuzzy pink robe, I tiptoed in the dark and followed the sounds to his room. He appeared to be having some kind of nightmare, tossing and turning in bed while saying “No, Axel!” and pleading, “Don’t get in the back.”

“Ethan!” I gently shook his bare, muscled shoulder, trying to wake him. I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was the right thing to do, but to let him carry on in such distress seemed wrong too. “It’s Ryan. It’s just a bad dream. Wake up, Ethan.”

He jerked his head and sat up quickly, looking around in a daze. His hair, which was usually perfect, was rumpled and soaked with sweat.

“Ryan? What? I was…” he trailed off, rubbing his eyes.

He looked so vulnerable and sad. I’d never seen Ethan like that before. I wanted to reach out and hug him, but I resisted.

“It’s okay,” I said soothingly. “It was just a nightmare.” I sat down on his bed beside him, acutely aware of the intimacy of the moment. “Do you want me to make you some tea?”

He looked off in the distance, his brows knit together in thought. “Yeah. Maybe. I’m not sure I can get back to sleep after that.”

I creeped downstairs and filled the kettle with water, then put it on the stove to boil. He came down after throwing on some clothes, and it was only then that it occurred to me that he had been half-undressed when I was sitting next to him in his bed.

At that moment, I also realized that I probably looked like a hot mess myself. I had crazy bedhead going on and was without my beloved concealer to cover my terrible under eye circles (genetic; thanks, Mom). And my worn pink robe had seen better days. Generally, I tried to avoid the frumpy homeless look around Ethan.

I took the bedtime tea and two oversized mugs out of the cupboard. “Want to talk about the dream? You seemed pretty agitated.”

He sat down at the island and hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether to tell me. I hoped he would. Sometimes it seemed like there was this fortress around him, and I just wanted him to throw down the drawbridge once in a while to let me in. To my surprise, he did.

“It’s a recurring dream of mine. It’s about a car accident I had this past spring.”

“I’m sorry,” I said as I put the kettle on the stove.

He said, “We were heading home after a late game—Axel, Geoff, and Smith were in my truck. I had a green light, and I was going straight through an intersection when an SUV came out from nowhere and T-boned us on the driver’s side.”

“Oh my god. Were you guys okay?”

“Considering the truck was a complete write-off, we were pretty lucky overall. Mostly some bumps and bruises. The SUV driver barely had a scratch.”

He paused, with a pained expression.

“But Axel took the worst of the impact. His left leg was severely injured; for a while, they weren’t sure if his hockey career was over.”

“He seems to be doing okay now though, right? Iz said his year has been off to a strong start,” I offered.

“He is, but then I wonder how good he’d be if that hadn’t happened. Sometimes I can tell when his leg is bothering him by the way he walks or skates. After long games and when the weather changes, I know it hurts him. It kills me,” he said sadly, his eyes cast down to the glossy gray counter.

He was clearly wracked with guilt. I had no idea that something like this was eating at him. He hid it well. I guessed that he probably hid a lot of other things, too.

“But someone else ran a light and hit you. That wasn’t your fault.”

“I was driving. I should have seen it coming, should have been able to avoid it. It was a few days after things imploded with Alexis; I was distracted.”

It was typical of Ethan to assume responsibility for something that was beyond his control. He did it with the team, too, always taking losses as a personal affront to his own playing abilities and competency as captain.

I could already tell whether they’d won or not based on his demeanor when he got home. If they won, he would relax and chat with me while he ate real food. If they lost, he locked himself in his office to sulk with a protein shake, which I could only assume was some form of self-punishment because I’d tasted it, and it was gross.

At times, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to shake him or hug him. He was so damn stubborn.

He wrapped his hands around his mug and looked up at me with an uneasy smile. “Now that I’ve told you my life story, it’s your turn. What actually happened with your ex? I haven’t seen or heard a peep about him since he sent those roses.”

I shifted in my seat. I didn’t really want to talk about it, but it seemed unreasonable to refuse after he had just bared his soul to me.

Fair was fair, I supposed. And how did he even remember the roses?

“We met through school. He’s a year ahead of me in my program,” I explained, cringing inwardly. I hated talking about Levi. It dredged up all kinds of painful memories. “Bad idea, I know.”

He looked at me questioningly, waving me on to continue. “And?”

“We dated for about six months. Things were going well— I thought. Until one day, I saw him across town with another girl. Kissing.”

Revealing this was embarrassing. I’d misjudged Levi so badly that I worried it also reflected upon me. I looked like a sucker in this story. How could I not have known he was cheating on me?

“What a piece of shit,” Ethan muttered, shaking his head in disgust.

“Right? More than anything, I wonder if the other girl even knows.”

Isabelle was appalled that I hadn’t confronted him on the spot, but I’d been too shocked. I had gone back to my car and burst out into tears, immediately calling her. Then, she had wanted to go nuclear and blast him on social media for being a liar and a cheat, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of airing my personal life in that way. And I worried about the repercussions for my own career, too. With only one hospital in the area, I couldn’t afford to be seen as unprofessional or burning bridges.

I still wondered whether I had made the right call. While I dodged a bullet, I had no idea whether the girl he was with knew about me. I hoped that Levi had learned from getting caught and cleaned up his act. Wishful thinking, probably.

“You deserve better than someone like that, Ry,” Ethan said.

My heart jumped. Like you?

He sighed and said, “I think I’m calmer now. I have early practice in the morning so I should try to sleep. Thanks for being there, though.”

“Any time. I’ll clean up and head to bed, too,” I said.

CHAPTER TEN

Ethan

After slaving away for the better part of the weekend, I’d finished my term paper early. I had a few spare hours, and Netflix had recently added the cinematic masterpiece known as Die Hard. It was a like the stars had aligned. Christmas had come early. The fates were smiling down on me. The perfect Sunday evening.

I’d just stretched out on the couch, complete with Ryan’s fuzzy throw blanket that I would never admit I secretly liked. Suddenly, there was an odd thump from out in the hallway, followed by a sharp bang, like someone was trying to kick the door in.

I paused the TV before going to the door investigate. Through the peephole, I saw Ryan, wedged against the door as she struggled to hold something.

I unlocked the door and swung it open slowly. She stumbled into the entry, halfway falling into my arms. I caught her by one elbow while steadying her parcel with my other hand.

“Here,” she huffed, hoisting her cargo into my arms. “Take this.” I glanced down to find an enormous orange gourd that had to weigh at least thirty pounds.

“Uh, what is this?” I took from her, carrying it into the kitchen.

“My pumpkin,” she said, dusting off her hands. “I’ll be right back. That’s the small one. I left yours by the elevator.”

Wait. This was the small one? How big was the other one? And how was she going to carry the thing? One misstep and there would be splattered pumpkin all over the hall. I didn’t think the condo board would appreciate that very much, nor did I want Ryan to get hurt.

“It’s okay.” I set the pumpkin down and turned to face her. “Why don’t you take care of this one and I’ll go grab the one in the hall?”

Ryan eyed the pumpkin critically. “Yeah, you’re right.” She nodded, meeting my eyes. “I need to get prepping.”

“Prepping?”

“To carve,” she said, as if it were obvious. “It’s going to be a lot of work cleaning them out.”

“You’re cleaning and carving these now?”

“We’re cleaning and carving these.” She tilted her head. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Of course not.” I vaguely recalled agreeing to something like this after our game against Boston College last week. But I’d been lost in my own world after a crushing defeat, not really paying attention to what I’d signed up for.

Dammit. I’d been so comfortable on the couch, ready to live vicariously through John McClane while he annihilated bad guys and saved the day. Plus, I hadn’t carved a pumpkin in at least ten years, probably more like fifteen. I wasn’t big on holidays in general; all of the pomp and circumstance seemed silly to me. What was the point of putting up a bunch of decorations you’d just have to take back down?

Ryan eyed me, expression somewhere between skeptical and expectant. There was no getting out of this now without disappointing her.

“Let’s carve some pumpkins,” I said. “I’ll be right back with mine.”

“Great.” When her face lit up with a smile, every thought I had about Die Hard vanished.

***

“There.” I stepped back, examining my handiwork. “What do you think?”

An asymmetrical jack-o-lantern stared back at me. One eye was far larger than the other. Half the teeth were missing. The roof of the pumpkin was starting to cave in because I’d carved too much of the surface away.

I’d used a print-out pattern and somehow, my jack-o-lantern still sucked. It was scary, all right, but not in the way it was supposed to be.

“It’s . . . nice,” Ryan said. She pressed her lips into a line and her shoulders shook as she tried to suppress a giggle. We both gazed at the hideous pumpkin, laughing until we nearly cried. The more we looked at it, the uglier it got.

“It’s awful,” I said, wiping away a tear. “You can admit it.”

“It has potential?” She tilted her head thoughtfully, twirling a lock of chestnut hair.

“Yeah. As pie.”

We both started to laugh again. In all honesty, destroying the evidence probably was the best way to go.

“Mmm,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment. “But seriously, I should bake a pumpkin pie. Well, or buy one. That might be a safer bet.”

“That wouldn’t last long around here,” I warned.

Ryan had quickly learned that I tended to eat the entire contents of our fridge approximately every three days. At first, she was baffled. Now, she simply hid anything she didn’t want me to eat. She learned that one the hard way, but seriously, who has the self-control to leave leftover chocolate cheesecake for an entire day and a half? Finders keepers.

“Right?” She sighed dreamily. “With whipped cream.”

I could think of a few other ways I’d like to use whipped cream with her.

Then I snapped back to reality. Roommate. Platonic. Focus, Ethan.

“Yours looks great, though.” I nodded to her ghost jack-o-lantern, which looked the way she’d intended. The ghost form was neatly carved, with an LED light glowing inside. Compared to mine, it looked downright professional.

I tried to tell myself that as a nursing student, Ryan was simply better with her hands than I was. After all, she used her fine motor skills all the time. She was a total perfectionist, too. But my ego was still a little hurt. Plus, thinking about Ryan’s hands lead my mind down a totally forbidden path—like wondering what else they’d be good at.

“Thanks.” She grinned, and she looked so cute that I almost wanted to kiss her. Man, I was losing my shit. Was it a full moon? Was I turning into a werewolf or something?

Just then, the side of my pumpkin caved in, completing the droopy, disappointing effect. All that was missing was a sad trombone sound: womp womp.

“You probably ended up with a faulty pumpkin,” she said. “I wanted to go to the pumpkin patch, but I didn’t have time with work and school. I got these from a grocery store instead, but I’m sure yours would have turned out better with one from Meyers’s Pumpkin Patch.”

“Let’s call it what it really is: user error.”

“That, too.” She laughed. “That was fun, but now my skin is all orange. And there are pumpkin guts everywhere.”

“Sure are.” I reached over, gently pulling out a piece of pumpkin from her hair. She blinked up at me, and my breath hitched. The gesture had been a little intimate, and it felt way too natural. Something crossed her face that I couldn’t quite read, and I wondered if it matched the way I felt.

Ryan patted her hair down self-consciously, searching for more pumpkin remnants. “Who knew I’d need my scrubs?”

Turning my attention to the apartment, I cringed. Strings and seeds were all over the floor. Vaguely, I remembered my mom laying down garbage bags or newspaper to contain the mess before we carved pumpkins as a kid. Something to protect the surfaces would have been a great idea. Too late for that now. The place looked like it could use a good hose-down with a pressure washer.

“I’m not too sure where to put these,” Ryan said. She scanned the room with a frown. “I totally spaced on the fact that this isn’t a house. We don’t have a front porch.”

“We can put our them on the deck,” I told her.

“But no one will see them.” She scrunched her face into a pout, but I could tell the disappointment was real.

“They’ll still see them over the railing. Here.” I leaned down, grabbing mine and placing it outside. Ryan followed suit, placing hers beside mine on the deck. They glowed side-by-side in the dark, the Jekyll and Hyde of jack-o-lanterns.

“Still not the same,” she said glumly.

“I would say we can take photos but I’m not sure I want proof that I created this monstrosity.”

Pulling out her phone from her back pocket, she quickly snapped a few pictures. “Too late. Boom. Blackmail material. You’d better watch yourself, Russell.”

I definitely should but not for the reasons she thought.

Ryan elbowed me, “Come on. It’s freezing out here. Let’s go raid the candy stash. What did you buy yesterday?”

“Some kind of variety pack.”

“Tell me you got Reese’s.” She skipped over to the pantry, rummaging through the boxes.

I followed behind, leaning against the counter beside the pantry. “Obviously.”

She emerged with a handful of peanut butter cups, high-fiving me with her free hand. “See? I knew you had good taste after all.” I was starting to agree, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ryan

We were running late for the hockey house Halloween party because Isabelle, as per usual, took so long to get ready. She refused to leave until her costume makeup was perfect. Personally, I felt this was futile as Axel would probably rub all of it off in due time anyway.

Still, I had to admit, she had done an amazing job at transforming herself into Harley Quinn. She’d even dyed the ends of her naturally platinum blonde hair pink and blue to complete the look. Not one for subtlety, Iz looked like even more of a knockout than usual. I was sure Axel would be chasing other guys away all night.

Shooting for a slightly more understated look, I was dressed up as Batgirl. Isabelle did the makeup to go with my costume, so in the end it was less understated than I’d planned. She definitely had a flair for the dramatic, but I loved her for it. I was rocking a killer smoky eye that she’d painted on with a metallic gunmetal eyeshadow, and burgundy matte lips. Normally, I would have protested, but I went with it in the spirit of Halloween.

Music tumbled onto the street when we pulled up. Bruder College didn’t have Greek fraternities, but the athletic teams were a pretty close approximation in terms of hierarchy. The hockey team was the upper echelon of social status and the hockey house was the “it” place to party. It showed: there were people all over the front lawn and I could barely squeeze inside.

Immediately, the scent of beer, sweat, and cologne greeted me. Iz split off from me to meet Axel in his room, proving that I had been correct about the makeup going to waste.

I spotted Ethan in the crowd with Smith. Smith was Star-Lord from Guardians of the Galaxy; true to his style, he had the whole geek chic thing going on. And Ethan was dressed as a firefighter, complete with navy pants, orange suspenders, and a tight T-shirt that hugged his muscular arms just so.

He could rescue me any day.

They were surrounded by a group of girls who were decidedly not going for the understated look this Halloween. There was a pretty redhead dressed more provocatively than any angel I’d ever seen. Her generous cleavage was crammed into a skintight, lacy white bustier, her skirt was more like a strip of fabric, and she was hanging off Ethan’s every word. I felt a pang of jealousy, which I knew was ridiculous. Still, I enjoyed the fact that she kept grabbing his arm and he didn’t seem to be reciprocating.

It seemed awkward to approach them and interrupt, so I opted to grab a drink first. As I was filling my cup at the keg, an athletic-looking blond sauntered over to me.

He was good-looking, and I could tell that he knew it. His costume consisted of camouflage fatigue pants and an olive-colored tank top, with dog tags and a fake machine gun. I strongly suspected that there was a matching jacket to go along with the costume that he had ditched somewhere along the way to show off his buff arms. To be fair, his arms were pretty nice.

“Hey, you’re Ryan, right?” he asked, flashing me a disarming smile. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

“I am.” I took a sip of beer, trying to suppress a frown. Why did I never learn? Keg beer was the worst. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

“Hunter. I play hockey with Ethan,” he said. He gave me a crooked smirk and nodded his chin toward me, “Ethan must be crazy to let such a hot roommate move in with him. I think he’s trying to torture himself.”

Was he flirting with me? I wasn’t hit by that immediate spark in the same way that I had been with Ethan. And he was an athlete, which gave me pause. But he was cute enough and more importantly, he wasn’t my roommate.

I could roll with it for now, I figured. It might serve as a good distraction from the puck bunny feeling up Ethan over on the other side of the room.

I laughed. “That’s very sweet, but Ethan and I are just friends. It’s totally platonic.”

I left out the part where sometimes I wished it wasn’t.

***

Ethan

Rachelle was telling me some story about her friends and a card game. Or maybe it was about her car’s name. I was nodding, but I wasn’t listening. I was too busy watching Hunter and Ryan. Even from a distance, I could tell that Hunter was laying it on thick. Get away from her, creep.

Rachelle batted her eyelashes and touched my arm, trying to flirt with me. “Don’t you think?”

“Sure,” I said absently, still watching Ryan in my peripheral vision.

Rachelle and I hooked up partway through sophomore year. It was just a one-time thing, nothing serious, and I hadn’t called her after. In truth, I felt badly about that, but I also didn’t want to lead her on. Ever since then, she was all over me whenever I ran into her. I wasn’t interested and didn’t know how to make it clearer without being rude.

After I broke up with Alexis, I went a little nuts and slept with a lot of girls right away, Rachelle being one of them. It hadn’t helped my state of mind; in fact, it made things worse. I decided to focus on hockey and school, and I stopped hooking up with girls altogether.

From then on, it was almost like there was a bet placed on who could get me to crack first. I’d even followed into the bathroom and propositioned. I was twice the size of them, so it seemed silly to complain; it wasn’t like they posed an actual threat. But sometimes I felt like a piece of meat or a conquest. Generally, the girls didn’t take the rejection very gracefully, either; I had received a lot of accusations and insults about my manhood after turning them down.

“Hunter might have a thing for your new roommate,” Smith murmured. My jaw clenched, molars grinding together, but I said nothing. See? I wasn’t overreacting after all.

Ryan meeting Hunter was inevitable, but I’d hoped to keep them apart as much as possible. If I warned her about him, I’d look jealous. That wasn’t the problem; at least, that wasn’t the only problem. It all came down to one simple fact: Hunter was a terrible person. Not just because of our history but because of how he treated people. He used them without any regard for their feelings, then discarded them when he was finished. He also considered following the rules to be more of a suggestion than a requirement.

From what I knew of his father’s business dealings, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. His family was wealthy—yacht and private-jet wealthy—but I got the impression their money wasn’t obtained in the most ethical ways. Back when we’d been friends, Hunter had alluded to how conducting business in other countries involved different “rules” and “fees” than it did in North America. In other words, bribes.

Irritation and protectiveness flowed through me. And okay, maybe a smidge of possessiveness. At any rate, I couldn’t stand by and watch it anymore. “Gross. Let’s go rescue her.” I turned, heading in their direction before Smith could protest. Rachelle was mid-sentence. “Sorry Rachelle, friend in need over there,” I added over my shoulder. She just stared at me, dumbfounded, her frosty pink lips open.

I squared my shoulders as I approached, staring Hunter down. “Hey, Ryan.”

She looked amazing. Her Batgirl costume was tight in all the right places. The shiny material made her curves look unreal. I quickly reminded myself that wasn’t the reason I had come over to talk to her.

“Hunter,” I added curtly.

“Hey man,” Hunter said. He always tried to kiss my ass, but I wasn’t having it. What he did to me was unforgiveable.

“Ryan, why don’t we go find you a drink?”

A look of confusion flashed across her face as she held up her red plastic cup. “But I have a drink.”

“I bet that tastes horrible, let’s find you something else.”

“It was nice meeting you, Hunter,” she said apologetically as we walked away. “What was that about? Is he a creep or something?”

“Kind of. He’s a player and he can come on strong. I just didn’t want him to bother you. Come on,” I said, gently touching her elbow. Electricity surged through my body at the contact, and I removed my hand. “Want to play pool? The table’s in the den. I think Iz and Axel might be in there too,” I lied. I just wanted to get her away from him.

Then it hit me: now I was actually telling lies to get a girl to listen to me? I started to wonder if I was any better than Hunter. What was wrong with me? Ryan put me into a tailspin when she was around.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ryan

By early November, flu season was in full swing and my shift at the hospital was hellish. The pediatric ER was swamped with cases of high fever, dehydration, and respiratory distress. And I’d been thrown up on more times than I cared to think about.

Exhausted and desperately in need of some down time, I reluctantly let Isabelle talk me into coming to watch a Bobcats’ game with her after my shift ended. At first, I turned down her invitation; I didn’t want to seem all fangirly over Ethan. But going to the game could be perceived as a totally normal, totally platonic thing to do.

Or at least that was what I told myself.

I was a little confused as to why Iz was going, since she and Axel hadn’t officially gone public yet. It was Isabelle who was the holdout; she gave me some nonsensical explanation about making him earn it. It seemed she felt wary of dating athletes too and wanted to make sure he was the real deal. And it made sense, except for the fact that they were otherwise glued at the hip.

We changed into what Iz deemed “cute fall outfits” (sweaters, scarves, and UGG boots) and huddled in the stands with hot chocolate while she spent a good portion of the game explaining hockey to me: icing, offside, what constituted a penalty. For someone who refused to call Axel her boyfriend, she sure seemed to know a lot about his sport.

Ethan was fast—faster than any of the other guys on the ice—and he kept out-maneuvering the other team. Even though hockey was foreign to me, I could tell that he had talent. His unwavering dedication to his training and diet surely helped, too.

The guy was a machine.

As the third period started, the Bobcats were already up four goals to the other team’s one, in part thanks to Ethan’s two goals and one assist. Number thirty-four on the opposing team had the puck and was on a breakaway, heading for the net. Ethan quickly reversed course and skated in his direction, lightning quick. He caught up and checked the player into the boards, causing him to lose control of the puck; it was a brutal, but clean, hit. The whistle blew.

The other guy looked pissed and they exchanged words, clearly provoking each other.

Finally, Ethan smirked and skated off while the other player stood there fuming. Unexpectedly, I found myself kind of, well, turned on by the whole exchange. Something about his level of skill and confidence was appealing. Ethan seemed like the ultimate alpha on the ice. Then it hit me: I was becoming one of them. I was becoming one of the puck bunnies. Oh god. I needed an intervention, stat.

After the game ended, the team headed to the Dirty Martini, a hole-in-the-wall bar just off campus. Briefly, I debated whether going was a good idea—there was potential for weirdness given my newfound Ethan fangirl status—but it seemed even weirder to watch the game and disappear after. Plus, Iz asked me to go as a buffer between her and Axel.

I decided to go and play it cool. I was sure that I could reframe everything in my mind and talk myself out of whatever it was that I thought I was feeling. Wrong. As soon as I walked into the pub and saw him, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I wanted him. In all of his athletic, sexy, hockey-player glory.

They wore suits on game days but for the bar he’d opted for jeans. He was still in a light pink dress shirt that I pictured ripping open. This was wrong. So, so, so wrong. Somehow, the wrongness just added to the appeal of it all. I was doomed.

Sitting down beside him, I tried to appear like a normal human being. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Ethan grinned, dimple peeking out. He sat up a little bit straighter. “How’s it going?”

That smile. That dimple. A ballet of butterflies danced through my stomach.

“Good. Better now,” I replied, running my hand through my hair. Quickly I added, “I mean, the game was great. You were awesome.”

Good job, Ryan. Fangirl it up some more.

“Yeah? I wasn’t sure if you were into sports.” He winked.

I blushed. Suddenly the room grew ten degrees warmer. Dying. I was dying here.

Just then, Smith returned from the bar with a pint of beer in his hand for Ethan. Thank goodness. Perfect timing to de-escalate whatever it was that was happening between us.

“Hey now, Ryan. You know that there are lots of other, equally talented players on the team, right?” he said playfully, eyes twinkling. “Like the goalie. Some even say he’s the most important player of all.”

“No kidding. You were great out there too,” I told him. “It seemed like you saved a lot of . . . shots on net?”

“You’re learning.” Smith laughed. “We’ll convert you to a hockey lover, just wait and see.”

“Already in progress, right?” Ethan nudged me, and a rush of heat filled my cheeks.

From the corner of my eye, I could see that Iz and Axel were in the midst of an intense conversation. Or possibly a full-blown argument. He was saying something to her while she sat with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. I knew that face—she wasn’t buying what he was selling.

Seconds later, she stood up and stomped off to the bathroom in a blur of blond and rage.

“Trouble in paradise. I should probably go check on her,” I said before trailing after her.

I found her standing at the mirror, applying her powder so roughly that I thought she might rub her skin right off. In Isabelle terms, that meant “proceed with caution.”

“Are you okay?” I asked gently.

She let out a huff of frustration. “He’s just the worst. The worst. Seriously.”

“Axel? Why, what happened?”

“Didn’t you notice all of those girls in the stands at the game? They were there to watch him. Well, a good chunk of them were, anyway. And he just loves the attention.”

“I get how that would be annoying. But you’re the one he’s with, right?” I reassured her.

“Still . . . he talks to these girls. They text him. He calls them his friends—” she rolled her eyes “—and I said that anyone who wants to fuck you isn’t really your friend.”

What did that say about me and Ethan, then? Was it wrong that I was finding myself attracted to him? Focus, I told myself. This is not about you.

She reapplied her coral lipstick, then said, “And how do you think he’d feel if I had a bunch of friends like that?”

I thought he would be feeling up the other guy’s face with his fist. Or at least, he’d want to. Axel had a strong jealous streak when it came to Isabelle. He was the polar opposite of Ethan, who didn’t get fazed by much of anything. Even when guys hit him during the game, he’d shrugged it off. It was impossible to imagine Ethan ever getting jealous . . . though I bet it would be hot if he did.

“That’s a fair point. When other guys hit on you, Axel loses his shit. It’s got to be a two-way street,” I agreed. I liked Axel, but I had to look out for Iz.

“You know, I’m not feeling this scene tonight. Want to go back to the pool house with me and watch some movies? We can order pizza and have a sleepover, like old times.”

Relief washed over me. “I could use a girls’ night.”

It seemed like she needed the company, and it would give me some time to come back to my senses. Maybe the break from Ethan would be helpful; I could get some distance from him and sleep off my temporary insanity. Two birds, one stone.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ethan

Starved for air, I skated off to the side to grab a drink of water. Thirst wasn’t my real problem; sheer exhaustion was. My legs were about as steady as a baby fawn learning how to walk.

This afternoon’s practice was grueling. Ornery at the best of times, Coach Jackson seemed particularly displeased with us today. I wasn’t sure why since we won our last game with a generous three-goal lead. Nonetheless, he was kicking our asses today. Thoroughly.

I hopped back on the ice as my shift started again. Luca passed the puck to me and I thought I saw an opening to the right. Pivoting, I accelerated in hopes of getting a breakaway. Hunter appeared out of nowhere to cover me. I couldn’t get rid of him on or off the ice. Under normal circumstances, I was faster than Hunter, but I was hitting a wall. I tried to cut left, but before I could, he crushed me into the boards—hard. Way harder than was necessary for a practice game. A bolt of irritation rushed through me.

“What the hell, man?” I called out as he skated away. What was he trying to prove? He waved me off, refusing to turn back and look me in the eye. Of course, he was too scared to stay and face me. I’d like to think that hockey was just hockey, but I had a suspicion his cheap hit stemmed from jealousy over Ryan. The game clock had almost run out, but I wasn’t going to forget about this the next time we found ourselves on opposite sides.

By the time I’d showered and changed, I could hardly walk. I was totally fried. I just wanted to go home and feel sorry for myself on the couch.

November had been unseasonably cold, and the wind was biting again. After limping home pathetically while freezing my limbs off, I opened the door and walked in to find Ryan practicing downward dog in the living room.

Instantly, my blood pressure doubled; I thought I might have a stroke at the ripe old age of twenty-one. And I definitely wasn’t cold anymore.

She was wearing tight navy yoga crops and a bright purple sports bra that left her flat stomach exposed. Her perky ass was up in the air. God help me, I hadn’t felt so drawn to anyone in over a year. Maybe never, if I was being brutally honest.

I was wearing sweatpants that didn’t hide much, so I went into the kitchen to get a cold drink and started mentally reciting the statistics for my favorite NHL players. Games played, goals, assists, points. It wasn’t working. My brain wasn’t operating at full capacity due to insufficient blood supply. All my thoughts kept sliding back to Ryan. More specifically, Ryan’s body, which was only fifteen feet away in my living room.

No. Get it together, I told myself. She’s just someone you share a place with. A friend. Like one of the guys. Except hot. Really hot. Fuck.

“Hey,” she called out, hanging upside down. “I’m practicing a new sequence for the class I’m teaching tonight. Want to join? I could use a guinea pig.”

Oh, I wanted to join her, all right. But I wanted to join her doing something a lot more exciting than yoga. This was bad. I needed to escape before I said or did something I would regret.

Or started drooling on the hardwood floor.

“Totally I would, but I promised Axel I would help him with his accounting class,” I lied. I went into my office, grabbed a random book, and awkwardly waved goodbye as I left.

Smooth, Ethan. Real smooth. Axel was a biology major, and Ryan knew it.

In the elevator, I texted the guys to see if anyone was around. I needed somewhere to be that wasn’t my condo. I wasn’t sure what had happened back there. Losing my cool around girls—losing my cool at all—was not my MO.

I was used to high-pressure situations: packed arena, crowd roaring, clock-ticking, sudden-death-overtime situations.

So why was I unnerved by the sight of a hot chick? Surely, it was just the result of that backbreaking practice. Low blood sugar and exhaustion—I just needed to get some food and rest. My brain would be back to normal after that. I hoped.

Geoff was free, so we decided to meet for dinner and a beer while watching the last two periods of the Sabres/Bruins game. I neglected to mention the part where I was hiding from my own roommate. Still, he could tell that I was on edge.

“Everything all right? You seem tense,” Geoff observed as he narrowed his eyes and looked me over.

“Everything is fine. Just tired after that bad skating at practice this afternoon. What was that even about?”

He shrugged, reading over the drink menu. “Who knows. It was awful, though. I’m going to be hobbling around for days.”

We bitched about practice for a while and then watched the game in silence for a few minutes. One of the things I liked about Geoff was that he was comfortable with silence. Pointless small talk drove me crazy.

“Hey, so how are things going with Ryan? Still all good?”

“Fine. Everything has been totally cool,” I hoped he wouldn’t connect the dots between Ryan and my flustered demeanor.

“I don’t know how you’re doing it, man. I’ve seen the way you look at her. And the way she looks at you, too. Hell, at this point, I’m sexually frustrated for you.”

I laughed uncomfortably. He was right about me, but I didn’t think Ryan felt the same way. Regardless, I couldn’t afford the distraction right now, especially with Coach suddenly becoming a tyrant.

“Sex isn’t everything. I have other stuff to worry about. Plus, I can’t risk things becoming awkward between us,” I explained. “She’s been a good friend to me and that’s more important right now.”

Geoff raised his eyebrows in disbelief and took a sip of his beer. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, dude.”

As he spoke, Rachelle walked into the pub with two of her friends. Did she plant a tracker on my phone or something? This was not what I needed today (or any day).

I willed myself to become invisible, but she spotted us instantly and made her way over.

We were only halfway through our burgers and I was still famished. I tried to think of an exit strategy that didn’t involve leaving the pub—and our food.

“Hi, boys.” She gave us both a coy smile with her painted-red lips. “Mind if we join you? This place is packed and it’s hard to find a table.”

I could have pointed out several vacant tables that would accommodate their party of three, but that would be impolite.

Geoff immediately struck up a conversation with one of her friends, a petite blond. He was notoriously picky, and he didn’t often take a liking to someone off the bat but he appeared to be enjoying the attention. I decided I’d have to take one for the team and let the group.

By a stroke of luck, the third period of the game started just as they sat down. I feigned extreme interest (in reality, neither was my favorite team) in an attempt to of avoid too much conversation.

“Ethan,” Rachelle said brightly, “what’s the deal with your new roommate? Isn’t it awkward living with a girl?”

She giggled, batting what I could only assume were false eyelashes given their impossible length. Everything with her always felt so rehearsed, disingenuous somehow.

I knew she was fishing. If I told her Ryan was just a friend, I didn’t want Rachelle to get the wrong idea about her own chances. Then I realized that if I played my cards right, I might be able to use this to indirectly get her off my back.

“It’s great. I’m not looking to date or hook up with anyone right now anyway, so her being a girl doesn’t even factor in,” I explained.

Please, please take the hint.

She flashed me a strained smile. “Awesome. That’s really mature of you guys.”

My cellphone vibrated, showing a text message from Ryan. Saved by the cell. As awkward as it was with Ryan earlier, I’d still take that over dealing with Rachelle.

Ryan: Hey, what are you up to right now?

Ethan: Just watching the game with Geoff. What’s up?

Ryan: This is embarrassing.

Ethan: Do tell.

Ryan: I have a flat tire and I’m stranded on the side of the road.

Ethan: Ok, I can come help you.

Ryan: The thing is, I actually DO know how to change a flat!

Ethan: Suuuuure you do.

Ryan: I swear to you, I do. But I can’t get the lug nuts off.

Ethan: I feel like there’s a dirty joke in there somewhere.

Ryan: Ethan! I’m going to be late to teach my class. Can you please get here quickly?

Ethan: Of course. Where are you?

Ryan: In the Quikmart parking lot.

Ethan: Be there in 5.

After telling Geoff what happened, I bolted out of the pub. I didn’t feel bad about leaving him; he seemed to be hitting it off with Rachelle’s friend, and I had a hunch that she was going to be more exciting company for him tonight than I could ever be, anyway.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ryan

I shivered while I danced on the spot, trying to stay warm. “Thanks again for coming.”

“No problem.” Ethan loosened the first lug nut with a grunt. Even he was struggling to unfasten it, and he was no slouch in the strength department. I’d had my winter tires put on last week and the tire shop must have really wanted to make sure they stayed put.

“The weather forecast didn’t say anything about it being this cold.” Not planning to be outside, I hadn’t dressed appropriately for the chilly gray November weather. The wind was gusting in frigid blasts; my track jacket and thin yoga crops weren’t cutting it. When the tag said the pants felt “naked,” they weren’t lying. I couldn’t wait to be in the comfort of the toasty heated yoga room.

He glanced up at me, dark hair tumbling over his forehead. “Are you sure you don’t want to go wait in my truck? I won’t hold it against you. You look like you’re frozen.”

I was trying to hide the fact that my teeth were chattering, but my blue lips were probably a giveaway. “No, it’s okay. Really.”

I felt weird enough asking him for help, especially since I did know how to change a tire; sitting in the truck like a delicate princess was not an option.

“At least go grab the hoodie I have in the front seat,” Ethan insisted. “It’ll help.”

“Fine, fine,” I said, secretly relieved at his insistence.

Shuffling over to his truck, I retrieved his heather gray Bruder Bobcats sweatshirt. It fit Ethan perfectly, but it was huge on me, coming all the way down to my knees thanks to our nearly one-foot height difference. Still, it was warm and even better, it smelled just like him—masculine and spicy-sweet.

I didn’t want to give it back, ever.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take me up on my offer and come with me to yoga?” I asked him as I waited, trying to stop myself from sniffing the sweatshirt in front of him like a creep. “It’s great for athletes.”

“I might have my man card officially revoked if I do.” He smirked, “Not to mention what the team would say.”

“Come on. Surely you must be more open-minded than that.”

“I’m just kidding. It is supposed to be good for flexibility, and the coach is always on us about stretching more. But I have to study tonight—I have an accounting exam tomorrow. Tell you what, though.” He pulled off the flat tire, setting it aside. “I’ll try it another time if you try something new that I’m good at too.”

“Like what?” I asked warily. Realization crept in. “Skating?”

Ethan turned to look at me, wide-eyed with incredulity. “Wait, you don’t know how to skate?”

“No,” I admitted. Growing up, I hadn’t been very athletic—or, well, very coordinated. I had excelled in school, but sports were not my forte. I’d even earned the nickname Dyin’ Ryan when I’d tripped over my own feet playing soccer in elementary school and knocked myself out cold.

“That’s practically sacrilegious. I think I might even be offended,” he joked. “We have to fix that for sure.”

We? My heart did a somersault.

As he finished tightening the spare tire, he added, “I’m sure you already know this, but your spare is only a donut. It’s really meant for short-term emergency use. You should be okay to get to and from the studio tonight because it’s only a couple of minutes away, but you’ll need to get a new tire before you drive on the freeway.”

“Oh, of course.” I smiled, pretending I knew what a donut was outside of the pastry context. I didn’t want to think about what a new tire would cost. Goodbye, grocery budget. Maybe Ethan wouldn’t notice if I pilfered some of his food. “Thanks again for the help. And sorry I interrupted what you were doing.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t important.”

It started to pour rain as I got into my car. Lucky timing. It was then that I realized I was still wearing his sweatshirt.

As his truck pulled away, I buried my face in the soft, worn material and inhaled his scent. I was a goner.

***

After waking up at the crack of dawn to get a new tire put on before class, then attending three classes, then going to the hospital for six hours, I was done. Drained. Spent.

As I rushed out the hospital’s main entrance, eager for pajamas and reality TV, Isabelle texted to confirm whether we were still on for pedicures tomorrow with Hannah and Ava. We’d made the appointment two weeks ago, before my hospital shifts had been posted. I had completely spaced on our plans. Was I even still able to make that? I barely knew what day it was, I was so exhausted.

Opening my phone’s calendar, I rapidly scrolled through the days. Because that was what kind of a day I was having, I scrolled too fast and went way into December. I was swiping back when I walked right into something solid.

“Ryan?”

I knew that voice. That cologne. As I looked up, my fears were confirmed.

“Levi.” In the light of day—or maybe in the light of Ethan—he didn’t look as good I had built him up to be. He was sporting a bit of a potbelly, which was ironic since he’d been obsessed with his own abs when we were dating. And he was wearing ill-fitting, too-short khakis. He looked like he’d aged five years in less than one. Maybe leading a double life with multiple girlfriends took a toll.

“How have you been?” he asked with a nervous smile.

Ugh. You don’t get to act all familiar with me anymore, I fumed silently. Cheating asshole.

I was tempted to ask him how his girlfriends were doing, but I decided I couldn’t be bothered. If I got home soon, I would catch Ethan before he left for practice.

“Fine. Listen, I’m late. I have to go,” I said bluntly, and power-walked across the street to my car.

I thought about his stunned expression as I walked away. Seriously? After what happened between us, I wasn’t sure why he thought I would chat with him.

As I drove home, my mind was whirling. I’d deliberately avoided him, even hiding when I saw him coming all term. But seeing Levi had been completely anticlimactic. Despite the circumstances of our breakup, it had taken me a long time to get over him. He was my first serious relationship, the first (and only) person I’d had sex with, and naively, embarrassingly, at one point I thought he was the one.

And so, I had been dreading the day that I would inevitably run into him, terrified that a chance encounter might reduce me to tears at work yet again.

But when I saw him today, I felt nothing. No sadness, no remnants of the feelings that I once had for him, not even a hint of nostalgia. Any sway he once held over me was gone.

Relief flooded through me. I didn’t have to worry about seeing him again, because now I knew I really didn’t care.

That was the good news.

The bad news was that when I arrived home and saw Ethan, the reason why I was completely over Levi was all too clear.

***

I examined the nail polishes in front of me. Usually, I stuck to neutrals: pale pink, peach, nude, that kind of thing. A little boring, but safe. I decided to branch out with a dark, vampy red for fall. For me, this was taking a risk.

“I’ve barely seen you this semester, Ryan,” Hannah said. “How’s it going? Isabelle said you were living with a guy?”

“I am, but not like that. We’re just roommates,” I said, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe if I kept saying it out loud, I would start believing it too.

Isabelle smirked and interjected, “Or so they say.”

Ava raised her eyebrows. “What’s this now? It sounds juicy. A forbidden roommate scenario. Hot!” She fanned herself dramatically.

“I might have a little crush on him,” I admitted. “But he wants to be friends. He was being weird the other day, though. I was practicing a yoga routine for class when he got home. He made up a fake excuse and then he just ran right back out,” I said. “Isn’t that odd?”

“Odd? No.” Isabelle laughed. “Horny? Yes. Come on, Ryan. You can’t be that oblivious. Clearly, he was acting that way because you had him all hot and bothered. After all, guys love girls in yoga pants.”

Oh god. Was Isabelle right? I wouldn’t mind it if she was, but Ethan was impossible to read. He was probably great at poker.

“Iz is right,” Ava chimed in. “And they can get really weird when they’re turned on when they shouldn’t be. Like at a funeral. I mean, not that I’d know anything about that,” she added, face turning nearly as red as my nails.

We all ignored that last part for her benefit.

“Hey, speaking of weird, you’ll never guess who I ran into again the other day,” I said, desperate to change the subject. “Satan himself.”

Isabelle’s eyes widened. “Again? Is he stalking you at work now? Please tell me you kicked him this time.”

I laughed. “Not quite. But he’s been texting me ever since. I haven’t responded, obviously.”

The first few texts had been casual but the messages that followed had escalated to begging. It was shameless. He either thought I was completely naive, or completely lacking in standards. There was nothing to say and no point in engaging with him. I’d blocked him to prevent further contact. Isabelle narrowed her eyes menacingly and shook her head. For Levi’s sake, I hoped they never crossed paths.

“Iz, what’s up with Axel?” Ava asked, giving Isabelle a suggestive grin.

I wondered if Ava missed having Isabelle around to party with; we all still hung out, but Hannah and I had never been much for the bar scene, and now Iz wasn’t as into it either. Prior to Isabelle’s newfound coupledom, Ava had been her man-eating partner in crime. In fact, Ava was basically the female version of Axel, pre-Isabelle.

She blushed. “It’s a little tough logistically between my heavy course load and his hockey, but things are good.”

I couldn’t get over how different she was with Axel. Different in a good way, but still different.

She was finally calling Axel her boyfriend and things had grown serious between them. They even had a standing Friday night date.

It was a little surprising given Axel’s supposed track record. And, well, Isabelle’s track record too. Previously, her longest relationship had been one long, drama-filled month. But I had never seen her so happy, and I was happy for her.

“I haven’t seen him a ton lately because my film class is working on this huge documentary about the fentanyl problem in the northeast. And get this, I’m the host! I think that it might turn into something big. It’s a very on-point topic. We think it has the potential to go viral.”

Iz was smart, ambitious, and ultra-dedicated, kind of like Ethan. She was a complete natural in front of the camera, and I was certain she had a big career ahead of her.

We talked about the documentary for the rest of our appointment. They were planning to enter it into several film festivals, and it sounded like they had a solid chance. She promised us a sneak peek once the final edits were complete and I was excited to watch it.

If she could stay focused even while in a relationship, I should be able to focus despite a silly crush. I needed to throw myself into school, clinicals, and yoga. More real life, less fantasizing about Ethan. Easy enough. Maybe.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ethan

Ryan picked up a black tank top from the laundry basket, laying it onto the couch. “Aren’t you going home for Thanksgiving next weekend?”

Her dark hair was pulled up into a messy bun with a few tendrils hanging around the nape of her smooth, delicious neck. I knew it wasn’t my place to have a preference, but I loved it when she wore her hair up. Partly because I had some primal urge to bite on her neck. For a number of reasons, I forcefully stamped that desire down.

“School might be on break, but hockey isn’t,” I explained. “They just released the tournament schedule and we’ve got games the entire holiday. My mom is flying in the Sunday before Thanksgiving and we’re going for dinner then. Not sure about my dad yet, but he said they would try to visit at some point. Are you going home?”

She held up two similar but non-matching socks, frowning as she examined them.

“No.” She said with a sigh, “It’s too expensive to fly back home for every holiday and it takes too long to drive down for just a couple of days; I’ll go back at Christmas. I’m just going to hang around here and teach a few extra yoga classes at the studio, covering for people who will be away.”

Briefly, I debated whether to offer to buy her a plane ticket home; money wasn’t an issue for me, but that seemed like overstepping. Still, she looked sad when she talked about not going home and I wished I could do something about it.

“I guess that makes us Thanksgiving orphans. Well, us and the rest of the hockey team,” I said. Being here with her over the holiday sounded surprisingly good to me, actually.

She scrunched up her face in the cute way that she always did when she was thinking. Something was up her sleeve. Continuing with her laundry, she started to sort out her bras and underwear. Meanwhile, I fought the urge to stare at her like a creep. I nearly choked when she pulled a lacy black thong out of the hamper and folded it in half, setting it to the side.

Had I been friend-zoned? Usually when girls showed me their underwear, the scenario was radically different. I imagined what she would look like in that thong—and nothing else. Pictured her curvy hips showcased in the delicate midnight fabric. How soft and smooth her skin would feel. Suddenly, she spoke up again, interrupting my rapidly escalating sexual fantasy.

“Hey, I know. Why don’t we do a Friendsgiving? It could be fun. Just an informal potluck. Food, drinks, that sort of thing.”

I would have gone along with just about anything she suggested. I struggled to maintain some semblance of composure.

“Okay. As long as you don’t make me cook the turkey,” I agreed, trying not to seem overly eager to please her.

She winked. “Just for that, you are definitely cooking the turkey.”

My phone rang, interrupting our banter. It was my father; if there was anything that could snap me back to reality, it was him.

“Sorry, it’s my dad. I’ve got to take this,” I told her.

Jogging up the stairs, I shut the door to my bedroom before answering the call. For the past few weeks, I’d lucked out and taken my calls from him when I was on campus. I didn’t want Ryan to see how tense he made me.

“Hi Dad, how are you?” I hoped this would be brief and painless. It was usually brief, at least.

His voice boomed in over his speakerphone, loud and commanding. “Listen, Ethan. I can’t get away from work right now. Why don’t you fly down here instead?”

Why don’t I, the captain, abandon my team in the midst of an important tournament? Good question. My father never understood the commitment that hockey entailed. Or more accurately, he didn’t respect it.

“I can’t get away either,” I reminded him patiently. “I’m completely tied up with a tournament over Thanksgiving break.”

He sighed. “Okay, son. It would have been nice to see you, but it’ll have to wait until Christmas, I suppose. Or are you tied up with hockey then too?”

“No, Christmas is good. I already booked my flights,” I replied. I’d scheduled them to spend the majority of the time with my mother, but I didn’t mention that part. I always blamed the airlines for bad connections.

“Right, then. And you will be attending our New Year’s Eve party as we discussed?” he asked expectantly.

Shit. New Year’s Eve. When he was pissed at me about my grades earlier this year, I agreed to be around until after New Year’s. I had completely forgotten; I would have to change my return flight.

For some reason, it was important to him that I attend their New Year’s Eve party this year to mix and mingle with their corporate pals. It was more business than pleasure and unbelievably dull. I wasn’t sure if it was for their benefit or my own, though I suspected it was a means of ingratiating me into their circle. I regretted agreeing to it, though at the time I hadn’t had much of a choice.

What I really wanted to do was go to the annual hockey house New Year’s Eve party with all of my friends. And Ryan. Maybe he would let me compromise, even if I did have to twist the truth a bit to make it happen.

“Yeah. Well, I can come for a while, at least. But we have a practice New Year’s Day that I have to attend,” I lied. “Isn’t that brutal? I think it’s Coach making sure we don’t party too much the night before,” I rambled, realizing that I was likely overexplaining. “I’ll probably have to catch a late flight out that evening.”

My father grumbled. I could tell he wasn’t thrilled, but I didn’t care. I often walked the line when it came to dealing with him—giving the bare minimum while pushing back as much I could. Depending on his mood, he either conceded or pushed back harder; it was a dance we did.

“Fine. Just make sure you put in a reasonable appearance.” He added, “And remember to pack suitable clothes. The party is semiformal. That means a suit and tie. Bye, son.”

I ended the call and sighed, feeling deflated. As head honcho, I was certain he could get away from work for a day or two if he really wanted—it just wasn’t a priority. Not when he thought I should be the one coming to him. Everything in my father’s life was done on his terms.

Disappointment wasn’t the right word for what I was feeling. Disappointment would imply some element of surprise and unfortunately, I wasn’t surprised. More like dismayed to be proven right about my father, yet again.

***

Ryan

Ethan was frantically running around the condo tidying up and wiping down surfaces. It was already clean (it always was), but his mother was due to arrive at any minute and it was clear that he wanted the place to look good for her.

The doorbell rang and Ethan rushed to answer it. He gave his mother a hug as she walked in, enveloping her with his big frame. I could tell he was close with her; it was sweet.

Like Ethan, she was beautiful. He had her dark-blue eyes, but she was blond, with streaks of silvery-gray. Based on Ethan’s age, I figured she had to be in her late forties, but she looked about ten years younger. Good genes. I wondered what his father looked like.

I started to extend my hand to her, but she stepped in and embraced me instead. “Ryan, it’s so nice to meet you. Ethan’s told me a lot about you,” she said warmly.

He has? “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. … ” I faltered, cheeks growing hot.

I knew her first name was Leslie, but Ethan told me she was remarried, and I wasn’t sure what her last name was; I should have asked him before her visit. Addressing adults was so awkward sometimes. Embarrassment flickered through me as I mentally kicked myself.

“Call me Leslie, dear. Ethan says you’re a nursing student?”

“Yes.” I replied, “Third year. I’m doing a practicum in pediatrics right now.”

“That’s wonderful. Such a smart career choice. Especially if you end up having kids, because heaven knows, they’re always getting hurt or sick,” she laughed. “I can’t tell you how many times I ended up in the ER with Ethan.”

She seemed more down to earth than I’d expected, which surprised me since Ethan came from money. His father was a finance bigwig but from the sounds of it, his stepfather was well-off, too; he’d sold some kind of tech startup and made a killing. Then again, Ethan was pretty grounded. Based on what he’d said about his father, I could only assume that was due to his mother’s influence.

She sat down at the kitchen table as Ethan poured her the last of the coffee. “You’re joining us for dinner, right?”

I would have, but there was one small problem: Ethan hadn’t invited me.

He jumped in, saying, “I’m not sure that’s how Ryan wants to spend her Saturday night, Mom. She works a lot and doesn’t get much time off.”

Did he not want me to go, or did he think I didn’t want to go? I wasn’t sure how to navigate this.

“I have plans with Hannah, actually, but it’s so nice of you to offer,” I said. We were seeing a movie later. I could have made dinner work, but it was unclear whether Ethan wanted me there, so I wasn’t going to risk intruding.

“We aren’t leaving yet, anyway. I’ll put some more coffee on if you can stay and visit for a bit,” she said. “I want to get to know the famous Ryan.”

“Sure. But you’re the guest, let me make the coffee,” I insisted, heading into the kitchen so they could chat alone for a few minutes.

Much to Ethan’s chagrin—and to my own delight—his mother shared all kinds of embarrassing stories about him. Like how he had a clothing aversion as a toddler and stripped naked at every opportunity. And the fact that he had a lisp until he was eight.

She had some pretty priceless pictures of him from high school prom, too; he’d had frosted tips. It. Was. Awesome.

But the best part of all was the stories she told me about him playing hockey. When she talked about it, she beamed with pride. He alluded to the fact that his dad wasn’t very supportive, but I could tell that his mom was his biggest fan.

Her visit made me miss my own mother. I wished I could have gone home for Thanksgiving, but it’d have to wait until Christmas. We still talked often, but it just wasn’t the same.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ryan

I found Ethan in the kitchen wearing an apron and oven mitts, frowning at a cookbook. He was taking turkey duty seriously. It was adorable.

“Should I cook the stuffing inside the turkey, or separately?” he asked me.

Though I did make a mean grilled cheese, I wasn’t known for my culinary skills. I had put myself in charge of the salad. It seemed like the most foolproof dish.

“Whatever’s easier?” I suggested, unpacking the wine and appetizers I’d picked up. “I’m sure it’ll be great either way.”

He furrowed his brow and sighed, reaching for his phone. “Maybe I’ll Google it.”

“You seem stressed. How about we crack open a bottle of wine and I’ll help you?” I may have been more interested in getting close to him than in actually helping, but that was beside the point.

“I am stressed.” Ethan pointed to the medical tape and gauze on his inner elbow. I hadn’t noticed it when I walked in. “I got a phone call and surprise trip to the lab this morning. Turns out, someone contacted my coach with an anonymous tip that I’m using steroids. Which I’m not.”

Ethan was way too ethical to do something like that. Plus, we had studied performance-enhancing drugs in pharmacology, and Ethan didn’t fit the profile. He already did all of the footwork: he trained hard, ate properly, got enough sleep, and often turned down plans to go out. Obviously, his performance as a player wasn’t lacking, and I had seen zero evidence of drug use around our condo. And Ethan loved to win. He had a competitive streak a mile wide, and I didn’t think he would count it as winning if he cheated.

“That’s strange. Who would do something like that?” I asked. “Someone else on the team?”

“My guess?” His jaw tightened, “Alexis. She was in the stands with her friends at one of our games not too long ago. When I saw her afterwards, she was nice—too nice. That’s not her default setting. She’s the vindictive type.”

“I know I’ll pass, but it’s the principle of it,” he explained. “The allegation itself casts doubt over me. Some athletes dope and get away with it—they game the tests somehow. Now, every time I do well in a game, I’ll feel like people will be looking at me wondering whether I really earned it.”

“If they know you at all, then I’m sure they also know that isn’t something you would do,” I reassured him.

“I hope so.” Ethan frowned, clearly unconvinced. “We should get cooking. Everyone else will be over around fourish, so that gives us almost two hours.” He reached under the sink, rummaging around and handing me a purple apron. Since when did Ethan own aprons? Had he purchased them recently? It was both cute and perplexing.

I raided the shopping bag for a bottle of Shiraz (violating the white-with-poultry rule, but Ethan only drank red) and poured us two glasses.

“Tell me where to start,” I said, pulling the apron over my head.

We worked quietly side-by-side, chopping vegetables, peeling potatoes, and washing lettuce for the salad. It was more preparing than cooking, but it still looked impressive.

“Can I be nosy for a minute?” I asked, trying to sound casual. In fact, I was dying to know. “What’s the deal with swearing off dating? Your so-called celibacy thing that people keep talking about?”

“Memories are short.” Ethan shrugged, sticking a digital thermometer into the turkey. I had no idea what temperature we were shooting for, but he seemed to know. “Before Alexis, I guess you could say that I was a bit of a player. And then I guess after, too. Briefly.” He looked away, avoiding my gaze.

“Really?” I wondered if Isabelle knew, and if so, why she hadn’t told me. It was hard to imagine Ethan—my disciplined, controlled roommate—behaving that way. It seemed out of character. Unsettling to think about, somehow.

“You’ve seen how girls act around the team. When you’re young and immature, it’s easy to get caught up in that scene,” he explained. He put the turkey back in the oven, avoiding eye contact with me. I sensed that he wasn’t proud of his past behavior.

“Rachelle from Halloween, you hooked up with her?” I was really pushing the envelope here, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to know.

“Yes.” He sighed, “A long time ago. Total mistake.”

“She doesn’t seem to agree,” I pointed out.

“I know, and I feel bad about that. But it was just a meaningless hookup. Hence, total mistake.” He paused. “You know, Alexis wasn’t always terrible. Or if she was, I didn’t see it in the beginning; I did care about her. And that taught me that an emotional connection makes a physical connection a million times better. There’s no comparison.”

Images of Ethan having sex with Alexis flashed through mind, flooding me with a confusing mixture of jealousy and disgust. I repressed a shudder, willing myself not to think about it. As far as I was concerned, that never happened. It was too bad brain bleach wasn’t actually a thing, because I really could have used some.

But like Ethan, I was never fully comfortable with the idea of being intimate with a stranger. I had only ever been with Levi. At the time, I thought he cared about me, but obviously I’d been wrong.

“I’m just not in a position to connect emotionally with anyone right now,” he added, breaking the silence. “I need to keep my head in the game. And I don’t want an empty one-night stand. It’s just easier to not go there.”

“Right.” I nodded, but secretly I was crestfallen. “Makes sense.”

Why did it sting so much to hear him admit something I already knew? Somehow, it became more real when he said the words out loud.

***

Ethan

In true Ryan fashion, she’d decked out the condo with fall-themed decor the day before Thanksgiving. She’d made rustic centerpieces with fake leaves and twigs for the table. Of course, there were matching candles everywhere. Ryan loved candles, especially in girly scents like vanilla chiffon and passionfruit tango. I pretended to be annoyed, and normally I would be, but she was cute enough that I let her get away with a lot.

The keypad beeped as someone unlocked the door. It had to be Axel, the only other person with the code. He walked in with Isabelle, bearing pies and mashed potatoes.

Axel handed Ryan two cookbook-worthy pies—pumpkin and apple—to warm in the oven.

“Thanks, Axel. Did you get these from La Boulangerie down the street?”

“Nope. I made them,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You did?” Ryan turned around, surprise across her face.

“Yeah, Axel, you did?” I asked. I already knew about Axel’s penchant for baking, but I liked to rib him about it every chance I got. Baking pies didn’t really fit with Axel’s tough-guy defenseman persona. To be fair, though, he was a really good baker.

“What? I like to bake,” he said, with mock indignation. “Men can bake too!”

“They look delicious. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two sometime,” Ryan said. “I’m kind of hopeless in the kitchen, especially when it comes to baking.”

The buzzer chimed three times: two short, one long, which was our team code. That meant it would be the rest of the guys: Geoff, Smith, and Luca, who rode with Geoff.

Geoff had brought Natalie, the blond he’d met at the pub the day I changed Ryan’s tire. Luca had hinted around bringing Karissa too, but I nixed it due to her connection to Alexis. I could be nice to her socially, but I couldn’t have one of Alexis’s best friends in my home. He seemed disappointed, but I think he understood.

We enjoyed ourselves with food, wine, and laughter. I had to give props to Ryan, Friendsgiving was an excellent idea. More enjoyable than actually spending Thanksgiving with my own family, or at least with my dad.

“ . . . and then he woke up naked,” Axel crowed, finishing another embarrassing story involving our freshman antics.

Of course, he was conveniently leaving out all of the parts that were embarrassing for him. For crying out loud: first my mom, now Axel. I was getting it from all sides lately. And always in front of Ryan.

Ryan tilted her head back and let out a throaty laugh. Then, she looked at me, still smirking with those perfect, pouty lips. God, she was sexy. It was like a pebble in my shoe lately—always there, and impossible to ignore.

A sexy pebble. Not that that made sense, but it didn’t have to.

By midnight, everyone had meandered out. Once again, I was alone with Ryan, and the epic mess we’d made of the kitchen.

“I can finish this tomorrow, if you want,” I offered as I loaded the plates into the dishwasher.

“Nah, let’s get it done now. Better to wake up to a clean place.” She gathered her hair into a loose bun. Her neck . . . I felt something stir within me. As in, to the south.

She filled up the oversized farm sink with hot, soapy water and stacked the dirty pots and pans. I stood beside her, drying. I was close enough to smell her perfume; vanilla and burnt sugar. I’d never been so turned on doing chores before. Maybe Geoff was right—maybe this was going to be the end of my sanity.

As I reached into the sink to grab a plate, my fingers brushed hers. A seemingly innocuous mistake, but there was electricity when we touched. She froze, and so did I. A rush of adrenaline ran through my body. In a moment of weakness, I wondered where this might lead if I let it. I wanted to find out.

Before I could act on my lapse in judgment, the keypad beeped, the door clicked open, and Isabelle and Axel spilled in. Good timing, guys. Or not.

“Sorry,” Isabelle giggled, clearly tipsy from after-dinner drinks. “I forgot my bag.” She couldn’t remember where she’d left it in the condo, so Ryan went to help her look for it.

Axel leaned against the doorframe, jutting his chin. “Did we interrupt something?”

“No,” I scoffed.

By the time the missing bag had been located, I’d finished washing and drying the last of the dishes. The interruption had allowed my racing hormones to settle, and I was thinking clearly again. It was good that things hadn’t gone any further. But it didn’t change the fact that I wished they had.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ethan

After a late practice, I’d inhaled a protein bar, showered, and fallen into a dead sleep. Ten hours later, I was famished. Partly due to the lack of a proper meal the night before, partly due to the heavenly smell of bacon and coffee wafting through the air. I sniffed, stretching as I rolled over. Having a roommate definitely had its advantages. Bacon was the way to my heart, and Ryan knew it.

Like a zombie, I brushed my teeth and threw on some sweats and a tee. My mouth started to water as I felt my way down the stairs, still groggy.

Food. I needed food.

Ryan was standing at the stove, flipping blueberry pancakes. I kept a pretty strict training diet most of the time but weekend breakfasts with her had become my one indulgence. She was fully dressed, a stark contrast to my situation. Her dark-gray sweater plunged to a deep vee in the back and looked so soft that I wanted to reach out and touch it. Touch her. I gave my head a shake. Clearly, I was still half-asleep and not thinking properly.

“Do you know what day it is?” She grinned, doing a little shimmy.

I had no idea. It was eight in the morning. I just crawled out of bed. I hadn’t had any caffeine yet and I was barely functional. How was she so perky this early in the morning? How much tea had she consumed already?

“ Saturday?” I asked her, rubbing my eyes.

“It’s December first, which means…” she prompted me, waving a purple spatula in the air. I half-thought she might smack me with it if I got the answer wrong.

“It’s your birthday?” I guessed as I grabbed plates out of the cupboard. It hit me that I had no idea when her birthday was.

She sighed and shot me a look of exasperation. “No, that’s in June. Which you’d better remember, for the record. It’s time to go pick out a Christmas tree.”

“A what?” I asked her, yawning as I poured myself a cup (more like a bowl, really) of coffee and dumped in some sugar. Even though Ryan wasn’t a coffee drinker, she had started a pot for me, and I was thankful for it. Two more bowls and I might actually feel human again.

“A Christmas tree. You know, the quintessential North American symbol of Christmas goodwill and cheer? We made plans to get one today, remember?” she explained, looking at me like I had three heads.

It rang a bell, vaguely. I was still groggy. I inhaled the aroma of the dark roast, then took a sip, the sleep fog slowly starting to clear. Yes, plans to get a Christmas tree. I remembered it now, but like the pumpkin thing, I hadn’t thought she was serious. This was actually happening?

She plated the pancakes and joked, “Where else were you going to put all of the expensive Christmas presents you’ve bought for me?”

I shouldn’t have been too surprised—it had already become apparent that Ryan was crazy about holidays. All of them. Any excuse for a holiday. At this rate, we’d have a Valentine’s Day rosebush or a colony of real live Easter bunnies. I pretended to complain, but secretly I kind of liked it. If nothing else, it helped get me into the spirit.

“I know that. I’ve just never had one before. I mean, I did as a kid. But not here in my own place. Will I have to water it and take care of it? That seems like a lot of work.”

Ryan gasped; clearly, I’d committed holiday blasphemy.

“Ethan Russell, you’re a Grinch. Well, not on my watch. We need to find ourselves a tree. I guess we’ll have to buy ornaments, too.”

“Wait a minute, you just want me for my body. You need help getting the Christmas tree home.”

She gave me a crooked grin. Dammit, she was hot even when she didn’t try to be. “Technically I want you for your truck. But it’ll be fun to pick stuff out together. Unless, of course, you’re cool with a pink-and-purple tree.”

Now she was flat-out blackmailing me. But I didn’t mind—there was something I wanted, too. Well, there were a few things I wanted but most of those were inappropriate.

“You know what else is Christmassy? Ice skating, like you promised me.” I flashed her an earnest smile, piercing a piece of pancake and using it to mop up the butter and syrup before taking a bite. For someone who claimed to be a bad cook, she made the best pancakes.

“I was hoping you’d forget about that.” Ryan groaned, hiding behind her hands. She peeked between her fingers. “Okay, on one condition—I bring Isabelle along for moral support. That way it won’t be quite as embarrassing because we’ll both suck.”

“Deal. I’ll text Ax now and see if they’re around later this afternoon,” I said, grabbing my phone. As the words left my mouth, I realized that this sounded an awful lot like a double date. Too late now. It didn’t seem to faze Ryan, anyway.

“You have to follow through on your end, too.” Ryan smirked. “Maybe we could get you some stretchy yoga pants to match mine?”

My mind flashed back to the yoga incident a few weeks ago, which we never had discussed.

“Don’t push your luck,” I teased, putting my dishes in the sink and heading back upstairs to shower.

It took me an inordinate amount of time to get dressed. I changed twice. I didn’t know what I was doing; maybe living with a girl was turning me into one. Plus, it was Christmas tree shopping, not a date. Finally, I settled on the jeans I was wearing the night Ryan came over to check out the place, and a black fitted tee. She’d made a reference to me being well-dressed that night, so I thought it was a safe bet. I wasn’t sure why I needed a safe bet to hang out with my roommate, but I didn’t want to examine that part too closely.

We drove an hour out of town to a specific Christmas tree nursery that she’d found on Google. Apparently, it was the place to get trees. A tree was a tree, in my eyes, but she seemed convinced that it was necessary. After what felt like three hours (but was only thirty minutes per my watch) of doing laps around the place, poking and prodding various inferior specimens, Ryan finally selected what she reverently deemed The One. It was enormous—ten feet tall and lush with greenery. It was also expensive, and when she tried to pay for it using the money she’d saved up from work, I had to fight her to let me slip the cashier my credit card instead.

Tying it to the truck was an ordeal in and of itself, but we eventually managed.Then, she dragged me to Home Etcetera to pick out Christmas ornaments and other decorations. Everything was silver and white; to go with my minimalist bachelor decor, she explained. Better that than pink and purple.

By the end, I was the proud owner of several pre-lit miniature outdoor Christmas trees, as well as a host of other decorative items I had never previously entertained the idea of owning, like LED twinkle lights for the staircase railing and a silver glittery wreath for the front door.

It was going to look like Christmas had exploded all over the condo. And the guys would never let me hear the end of it. Somehow, I wasn’t sure I cared.

***

Ryan

Maybe I got a little carried away while picking out the tree. Getting it through the door was quite the feat and I would be vacuuming up needles for days. But once we managed, it fit nicely under the vaulted ceiling of the living room. I think Ethan liked it, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

After lunch, I piped my iPad playlist onto the wireless speaker system. Ethan looked at me questioningly.

“Christmas music. It’s a mandatory part of Christmas tree decorating.”

“Are you going to play it every day until Christmas?”

“Of course.” I opened up the boxes of glittery silver and white decorations. “I’ll break you, Ebenezer Scrooge. Just you wait and see.”

“Sure you will,” Ethan grumbled.

We decorated quickly, putting the ornaments on the tree, hanging twinkle lights on the mantel, and winding garland around the staircase bannister . The star was the only thing that remained. Ethan insisted I do the honors even though, being a foot taller, objectively he was the better choice.

Learning as far forward as I could, I stood on my tiptoes while perched on one of the kitchen chairs. Instead of neatly placing the star on top, I lost my balance and fell—landing awkwardly on Ethan.

Fortunately, he was about twice my size and he easily caught me, saving us both from harm. But falling like that was less than graceful and more than embarrassing. I wasn’t hurt, but my ego was.

“Sorry,” I giggled. I felt a little tipsy and we hadn’t even added rum to the eggnog; either the sugar was going to my head, or he was.

Ethan grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s okay. You’re going to have to try harder than that to take me down.” He set me on my feet gently, but he didn’t let me go. Were we having a moment?

My heart skipped a beat, or more like three. Like always, he smelled delicious: citrus and cinnamon. I got a little lightheaded whenever I was close enough to smell him, and the fact that his arms were around me right now was only compounding that fact.

“Thanks for today.” I looked up at him and smiled. I was going out of my mind over him lately and this was not helping. Please, just kiss me already.

“The tree looks great.” Something nearly imperceptible flashed across his face. It almost looked like sorrow. Then, he pulled away from me and added, “We should get going. We’ve got to meet Axel and Isabelle in half an hour.”

And just like that, I deflated. What the hell just happened between us? I had no idea. This was the second time that things had taken a puzzling turn lately. I was starting to wonder if I was imagining these moments, making them into something that they weren’t. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part.

Unexpected and ambiguous ending aside, the place looked festive and felt more like home. Twinkle lights were one of my favorite things in the world.

There was a knot in my stomach the entire way to the skating rink. It was certainly not my natural environment. I hoped I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself in front of him.

After we met our friends inside, Isabelle and I rented skates. Once I’d them up, I was dismayed to find that they hurt. A lot. I was pretty certain that skates should be considered torture devices. Ethan swore it would get better as my ankles toughened up but I was skeptical—someone who’d been skating for nearly twenty years was obviously biased.

As I stepped on to the ice, I lost my balance and fell immediately. How was it that I could do a handstand in yoga, yet I could barely stand up in skates? It made me feel uncoordinated, an unwelcome reminder of childhood gym classes.

Isabelle was faring better than me—she was managing to stay upright. I was going to be black and blue all over. Ethan was now witness to one of my fatal flaws: total and complete lack of coordination. First falling off the chair, now falling all over the ice. It was a humbling day, indeed.

“Okay, that’s good. Now, don’t lean back when you feel like you’re losing your balance. Instead, think about keeping a soft bend in your knees and keep your center of gravity slightly forward,” he coached me as he caught my arm and stopped me from tipping over yet again. Falling was embarrassing, but I didn’t mind the part where he had to keep touching me.

“I’m terrible at this,” I lamented. I wasn’t exaggerating, either. I really was terrible.

“You’re not doing too bad, actually. I’ve seen worse.” But I could tell that he was lying to spare my feelings. As closed-off as he could be sometimes, he was terrible at flat-out lying.

Isabelle and I only lasted about twenty minutes before throwing in the towel. I was tired, sore, and bruised (ego included). We grabbed lattes and sat in the stands while the guys goofed around on the ice for a while. They raced from one end to the other, but Ethan left Axel in the dust. It still blew my mind to see how fast he was on the ice. It was even more impressive because skating was only a mere fraction of what he did when he played hockey.

As we were watching them, my text notification vibrated.

Mom: Hi, honey. I just wanted to let you know that Phil and I decided to buy you a plane ticket home, so you don’t have to make the long drive. I will email you the details shortly.

Ryan: Really? Wow. Thank you! You didn’t have to do that.

Mom: Consider it a part of your Christmas present :) Love you.

The way she worded her text, saying that she and Phil had bought plane ticket, stood out to me. It wasn’t typically something she could afford to do on her own. Then it hit me; the marriage talk had progressed to an engagement. It was a good thing, really.

“Isn’t it funny that we keep finding ourselves together, watching them?” Iz remarked as Axel screeched to a halt in front of Ethan, purposely spraying him with a wash of ice. “Almost like they’re both our boyfriends…” She trailed off, hinting at the obvious.

“Ethan’s not my boyfriend,” I reminded her. The words tasted bitter, because sometimes I wished that he was. But I couldn’t quite bring myself to admit that out loud, even to her.

She looked at me questioningly. “Are you sure you aren’t flirting with that line a little? It almost seemed like we were interrupting something the other night when we came back.”

Busted. I was hoping they hadn’t noticed. Maybe—hopefully—she was more observant than Axel.

I shrugged. “I’m not sure what that was. We were just washing the dishes. It was innocent enough.”

“You two were about a millisecond away from getting it on,” she insisted. “Which part of it sounds innocent to you? The part where you two were about to make out, or the part where it involves a six-pack-sporting hockey player?”

“I can’t say I would’ve been able to stop myself if things had kept going,” I confessed, taking a sip of my Earl Grey latte and looking away, sheepishly.

“Wow, Ry,” she said. “I was only teasing, I’m sorry—I didn’t know you were that into him. That’s kind of hot.”

“It might have been, if you guys hadn’t come back at the worst possible moment.” I laughed. “It was probably for the best, though. I don’t know how he actually feels about me; maybe he was just caught up in the moment. Or maybe I was misreading the situation altogether and nothing would have happened anyway. Axel hasn’t said anything to you about it?”

“You know I’d tell you if he did. But I don’t think they sit around talking about their feelings much. Especially with how Ethan is; he’s a pretty closed-off guy.”

She was right. Ethan was like a vault most of the time. It felt like he had actually let me in, to a point. But now, I sensed I’d hit a wall that few people got past. And so far, I hadn’t been one of them.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ethan

“ . . . and that always needs to be accounted for when evaluating capital structure and long-term solvency,” my professor droned on as I frantically took notes, struggling to keep up.

My phone vibrated on the desk in front of me, a text message from Luca popping up. Best to ignore it for now. This prof was notorious for providing skimpy course outlines and then infodumping important information during lectures at a breakneck pace. Any lapse in attention could mean that I missed an important exam topic.

But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something that I couldn’t ignore. His text was about that goddamn campus gossip website. The bane of my existence last year, they had finally started leaving me alone.

Luca: Have you seen the latest To the Letter post?

Ethan: No. You know I don’t follow that shit. Why?

Luca: It talks about Ryan. It’s a bunch of BS . . . but you might want to go look.

Ethan: What?!

Capital structure decisions faded into the background as I pulled up the site on my phone’s browser to see for myself.

There, on the front page, read the headline “Is Hot Nurse Ryan Winters the Bobcats’ Newest Plaything?”

What the fuck? I gritted my teeth and continued to read. The article alleged that not only were Ryan and I sleeping together, but that she was also sleeping with Hunter and several other guys on the team. It was accompanied by a shot of Ryan talking to Hunter at the Halloween party.

My heart started to pound, and I felt myself flush with red-hot anger. I clenched my fists and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. Nope. Wasn’t happening. Conniving, cowardly, backhanded: this had Alexis written all over it.

The rest of the class was just white noise to my own internal ranting.

As soon as we were done, I rushed for the door and jogged back home, fueled by rage and adrenaline. If I could straighten this out quickly, maybe Ryan didn’t even have to know. I hated the idea of her getting hurt because she was associated with me.

But when I unlocked the apartment door, it was apparent Ryan had already heard. Isabelle was over and she was trying to calm her down, with limited success. I could hear the two of them talking upstairs, and what I heard only made me angrier.

“What am I going to do, Isabelle? Is there any way to make them take it down?” Ryan asked, distraught.

Isabelle replied, “I don’t know, Ry. We can try. We will try, babe.”

Ryan was on the verge of tears, now. “Having my name smeared like this could really hurt me in practicum this semester. If the instructors hear about this, they’ll judge me before rotations even start!”

“No one reads that ridiculous site. And everyone who does knows that their posts are just a bunch of baseless rumors anyway,” Isabelle consoled.

“But you read that site, Iz! And a lot of other people do too, you said so yourself.” Ryan protested, her voice breaking.

Now she was definitely crying. Something inside of me wrenched at the sound of her so upset. It was followed by a rush of suffocating guilt. All of this was happening because of her connection to me.

I wanted to talk to Ryan, but not before I did something about this. I needed to think, to strategize. Quietly, I went into my office and shut the door. Fucking Alexis. I wasn’t going to let this stand.

Being mentioned on the site didn’t faze me; I was used to it by now. In fact, To the Letter had posted weekly updates on my sex life (or lack thereof) for a while. The feature had been charmingly titled “The Captain’s Celibacywatch,” but even they grew tired of it.

And this was worse, because Ryan had never given anyone a reason to drag her name through the mud. Roping someone innocent into it—someone that I cared about—meant war.

My text alert went off again. This time, it was Smith. It dawned on me that I should’ve gone straight to him when I first heard about this. I had been too angry to think clearly.

Smith: So you’ve heard about that blog post.

Ethan: Yep . . . Pissed is putting it mildly.

Smith: Want me to handle it?

Ethan: You can do that?

Smith: Hacker is my middle name, bro.

Ethan: I know, but can you do it without getting caught?

Smith: Russell, you insult me. Of course.

Ethan: Please do. I’ll owe you one.

Smith: The post will be gone within the hour. Hell, I might crash the whole site just for kicks.

Ethan: Thanks, man.

At least one part was taken care of. Smith was a computer science major, and he started hacking when he was just a kid.

Still, I needed to handle Alexis. If she wanted to slander people by sending in false anonymous tips, then she’d better be prepared to own up to the things she’d actually done.

Nothing could be in writing; leaving a paper trail was too risky. I’d have to call her. I shuddered. I wanted nothing less than having to talk to her. But for Ryan, I’d do it.

***

Ryan

Unable to focus, I was hiding out under a pile of blankets while I binge-watched reality TV. I doubted many students in the nursing program read that blog, but I still felt self-conscious—like everyone had seen the post and was judging me. Isabelle had kept me company for a few hours before leaving, reluctantly, after I insisted she keep her plans to meet Axel for dinner. There was no reason for the blog post to derail her day, too.

I was parched now from all of the crying and I needed a drink, but I didn’t want Ethan to see what a mess I was. Thirst or pride, thirst or pride. Thirst won. Reluctantly, I creeped downstairs to get a glass of water.

Ethan’s muffled voice was barely audible from inside his office. He was arguing with someone. I hoped he wasn’t researching the legalities of evicting me. Tiptoeing in the kitchen, I listened to what he was saying.

“Don’t bother denying it, Alexis. I know it was you. That part isn’t up for discussion.” He paused. “She isn’t dating Hunter, but even if she was, that would be irrelevant.” He paused again. “No, you listen to me. If you ever pull this shit again, I’ll go straight to To the Letter myself and give them an exclusive story about what you actually did. I’ll let them name me as the source on the front page, photo and all.”

He slammed something down on the desk with a bang and let out a grunt of frustration. It felt disingenuous to go back upstairs and pretend I hadn’t overheard, so I knocked on his office door instead.

“Ethan?” I said. “Can I come in?”

He opened the door, looking at me with concern. Then I remembered my eyes were puffy and probably bloodshot. I was sure I looked like hell.

“Are you okay?” he asked, furrowing his brow. He was breathing fast and I could tell that he was agitated.

“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “I was pretty upset earlier. But I’m feeling a little better now.”

“Good. Smith’s going to hack the site and take the post down. It should be gone soon, if it isn’t already.”

“I appreciate that.” A wave of relief washed over me, followed by sudden and sheer exhaustion. I’d been running on panic mode ever since I found out about the blog post. Now that the crisis was over, I was spent; I just wanted to go to bed and forget about the entire day.

He stepped forward tentatively and wrapped his arms around me. He smelled amazing, like his soap and the cinnamon gum he was always chewing. It was a brief hug, maybe a little awkward. But suddenly, there was a part of the day that I didn’t want to forget.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ethan

It was one of our last games before Christmas break and it was not going well, plagued with missed passes, messed up plays, and rookie errors.

At the start of the third period we were down two to the Tornadoes, one of the worst teams in the league. None of us could pull it together and no one could figure out what the problem was.

My problem was Ryan. The blog post had been eating away at me. Not only did I still feel bad that it had happened, I was also concerned by how much it bothered me. Those boundaries we had talked about maintaining were growing increasingly fuzzy.

Hopping onto the ice as my shift started, I skated toward our zone to get the puck out. Geoff passed it to me, and I maneuvered around one of the other team’s forwards before passing it to Axel. Making my way across the blue line, my mind wandered to how Ryan was doing and why she hadn’t come to watch the game with Isabelle.

Axel passed the puck back to me in a nice, clean shot. My attention snapped back to the game, but it was a moment too late—before I realized that I had possession of the puck, number 19 from the Tornadoes came out of nowhere and flattened me into the boards right by the opposing team’s bench.

A sudden, brutal impact jolted me as a thunderclap of blinding pain shot down my right arm. Taking hits was normal, and most of them weren’t too bad, but my arm was crushed between my body and the open half-wall.

I was definitely injured—badly. I could already tell that I wouldn’t be getting back on the ice again tonight.

The team trainer saw the whole thing happen and was waiting for me when I got to the bench. After a quick examination, his conclusion was as I’d expected; I had to sit out the remainder of the game. I was forced to watch helplessly from the bench as the rest of my team got hammered on, culminating in a pitiful loss. It was beyond frustrating.

My shoulder nagged at me the entire time I drove home, a constant reminder of my error on the ice. I hadn’t realized how much I used my shoulder for something as innocuous as driving. By the time I got home, the pain was making it difficult to use my arm at all.

I almost considered asking Ryan for help getting my gear out of the truck before I gave myself a mental slap. Man up.

After dragging my gear upstairs with one hand, I punched in the code and pushed the door open with my hip. Please don’t let Ryan be here to see this. I hobbled through the door, awkwardly tossing my hockey bag to the side with my good arm.

“Are you okay?” she asked in alarm, rushing over.

The pain was bad, but I didn’t want to show her that. I felt kind of embarrassed that I’d been injured. I didn’t want it to make me look weak.

“It’s not a big deal. I was checked into the boards and my shoulder took the brunt of it. The team trainer looked at it and said it would be okay. He told me to rest, ice, compress, and keep weight off of it when I’m sleeping. I’m sure you know the drill.”

“How was the rest of the game?”

“Not great,” I sighed. She meant well, but she was rubbing salt into the wound. The final score was 4–0. Not just a loss, but a complete shutout. Coach had noticed that my head wasn’t in the game, too, and ripped me a new one for getting hurt because of it. It was a shitty game on every level imaginable.

Ryan winced. “Sorry.”

“I’m going to take another shower,” I told her. “Rushed through it at the arena because my shoulder was killing me, and all I wanted to do was get home.”

After a shower that took twice as long as it should have due to my bad arm, I threw on some sweats and made my way over to the couch,collapsing with a groan. The pain seared through me, radiating into my back as I shifted and tried to get comfortable. She followed and sat down on the ottoman, facing me.

It was then that I realized she was wearing form-fitting yoga pants and a low-cut black racerback tank top. I summoned every shred of my already depleted mental strength to stop myself from staring at her breasts.

“Take off your shirt,” she said, nodding toward my injured side.

“Aren’t you going to buy me dinner first?” I grinned.

Letting Ryan undress me was a risky proposition, considering how often I thought about undressing her. But she was only trying to help, and refusing would seem rude, or worse still, weird. This was probably all business to her, anyway. I wished I could say the same.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, big guy.” Ryan smirked, gently poking me in my uninjured shoulder. “I’m just going to help you rewrap that shoulder. Pretty hard to do that all by yourself—at least, properly..”

Handing her the tensor bandage the trainer used earlier, I slipped my arm and out of my gray T-shirt to show her the injury. She winced when she saw the purple bruise that had already bloomed across my deltoid and upper bicep. As a nursing student, she’d already seen it all; if she thought it was bad, it had to be bad. Tomorrow, it would probably feel even worse. Great.

“This looks terrible, Ethan. Did the other guy take a penalty?”

“No, it was a legal move; more bad luck on my part than anything. Wrong place, wrong time,” I lied.

I got hit because I’d been distracted—thinking about her. My head hadn’t been in the game; such a rookie move. I was disappointed with myself for it.

Working quickly, she helped me wrap up my shoulder. Her hands were cool and soft. I tried not to think about what those hands would feel like on other parts of my body. Or about the sexy nurse scenarios I had dreamed up lately, which were basically exactly what this was.

I focused on the throbbing pain radiating through my upper arm to prevent my thoughts from wandering further into inappropriate territory.

“Thanks,” I said, after she was finished. “You didn’t have to do that.” And I probably shouldn’t have let you.

“It’s okay to accept help from other people sometimes, you know.” She gave me a pointed look. She headed for the kitchen and grabbed me an ice pack out of the freezer, tossing it to me. “Catch.”

She was right—I hated accepting help. But so did she.

“You’re one to talk, Ms. IKEA. You barely let me drive you there and then you assembled it all alone to prove a point,”

She laughed. “That wasn’t why!”

I raised an eyebrow without saying anything.

“Okay, fine. Maybe a little bit. It was always just my mom and me, so I guess I’m used to doing things on my own. I don’t like imposing on people,” Ryan admitted. She sat on the couch across from me, curling up with a blanket. For the life of me, I still didn’t understand why girls were always cold.

“Your dad wasn’t around?” She talked about her mother often, but never about her father.

She chewed on her lip and shook her head. “I’ve never met my father.”

“That seems hard.” I said.

“It’s not.” She shrugged. “Can’t miss what you never had.”

“For what it’s worth,” I said, “my dad wasn’t around even when he was.”

“I gathered as much.”

“Not that I’m trying to minimize your situation, I mean. I guess it’s not really the same.”

“It’s still got to be hard to have a strained relationship like that.” Ryan shrugged. “Anyway, is that your excuse? Why you’re so hell-bent on avoiding help?”

“Nah, that has nothing to do with him. That’s all male pride, obviously,” I said.

In reality, I wasn’t sure—I just didn’t like the idea of needing other people. It made me feel vulnerable. As a rule, being vulnerable was something I avoided. But that rule was continually being tested with Ryan. I didn’t know how much more I could bend it until it broke.

***

Ryan

I returned home from teaching an evening yoga class to a quiet, empty condo. Again. Disappointment washed over me like a tide. Alone time was something I enjoyed, but I’d had more than my fill in the past couple of weeks.

Ethan had been avoiding me, and I didn’t know why. At least, I was fairly sure he was avoiding me—he had been spending more of his spare time at the hockey house and less of it at home. He’d even gone me out with the team after the last few games and stayed out really, really late, sometimes not coming home at all. It was unusual behavior for him. My imagination ran wild with possibilities. Maybe he was tired of seeing me all the time, maybe I’d become annoying, or maybe he was seeing someone.

None of the possibilities were good.

Or maybe he was just stressed about hockey. He’d made a few offhand comments about it not going well lately, and Isabelle had said the same. Unfortunately, she hadn’t known anything that would explain his odd behavior beyond that. If he wouldn’t spill to Axel, he definitely wouldn’t spill to anyone else, myself included.

I tried to tell myself that it had nothing to do with me, but I wasn’t totally convinced.

My phone buzzed.

Isabelle: Ryan! Come meet us at the Brewery. It’s just down the block from your place.

Ryan: Maybe. Who are you with?

Isabelle: Axel, Ethan, Smith. A few other guys from the team. Total. Sausage. Party. I need some female energy to balance it out. Come on! Please.

Ryan: I don’t know, Ethan’s been weird around me lately. I think he’s avoiding me.

Isabelle: Really? But he told me to invite you. Don’t leave me high and dry. They’re talking about fantasy hockey again.

Ryan: LOL, fine. Let me change first. I’ll see you soon.

Isabelle: Perfect. We’re in the corner by the pool table.

After about six outfit changes, I settled on black skinny jeans, knee-high boots and a loose gray sweater. The walk over was quick, fueled by my anxious energy.

At the Brewery I made my way over to where Iz’s table. Ethan saw me and flashed a smile, but I detected apprehension behind it. He was seated between Luca and Geoff, so he didn’t appear to be with a date or anything that would explain why he seemed so uneasy.

“Hi Iz.” I squeezed into the end of the booth beside her. “Good game?”

“It was okay,” she said gingerly.

I’ll take that as a no.

“Hey, Ryan. Sorry to hear about that To the Letter thing a while ago,” Axel said, leaning across the table so I could hear him over the music. “We’ve all been there. That site is such bullshit.”

“It’s okay. Smith took care of it for me. Thanks for that, by the way,” I said to him.

“No problem. It was kind of fun. It reminded me of the good old days,” Smith laughed.

“I don’t know how you guys stomach being talked about like that all the time,” I admitted. “It was awful.”

Axel smirked. “You either get used to it or become really boring, like Ethan, and then they just leave you alone.”

It was clearly a joke, but Ethan didn’t seem to appreciate it. He just rolled his eyes and continued his conversation with Geoff.

“No puck bunnies tonight?” I asked Isabelle in a low voice.

Grinning, she said, “Fewer and fewer. I’ve decided to kill them with kindness. As in, by being sickeningly sweet to them. It completely throws them off guard.”

Whatever worked.

“Clever,” I said.

The waitress was nowhere to be found, so I went to the bar to order a drink. It was crowded, and I had to elbow my way to the front. As I was waiting, Ethan approached.

“Hey stranger, how’s it going?” I asked.

He looked down at me, startled to see me there. Sometimes, being short meant that you disappeared in a crowd completely.

“Oh, okay.” He shook his head, clearing his throat. “I mean, good.”

“How was the game?”

“We’ve had better.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. The entire exchange was stilted and uncomfortable.

“Do you want to walk home with me later?” I asked, kicking myself as I said it. I sounded needy.

“Probably not. Just planning to go back to the house with the guys after this.”

Ouch. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was clearly blowing me off. It was almost the way you’d treat someone after a regrettable one-night stand, except we hadn’t had a one-night stand. At least that would have made sense.

No sooner had I sat back down at the table than Hunter walked in with two guys from the team that I didn’t know. He swaggered over, straight to me. I had to give him credit, he was persistent. And he was good-looking, even if I still didn’t feel that certain spark with him.

“Hey, I didn’t see you at the game,” he said inquisitively.

“I had to teach,” I explained. Never mind the fact that I probably wouldn’t have gone anyway. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan glance in our direction and then look away. I wasn’t trying to make him jealous, but if he was, I wasn’t broken up about it either.

Hunter furrowed his brow. “Teach what, exactly?”

“Yoga, over at Nirvana Spa,” I explained.

He shot me a mischievous smile. “Yoga, huh? Maybe I’ll have to come by one time.” In the background, I was pretty sure I heard Ethan choke on his drink.

“Sure. Shoot me a text and I’ll tell you my schedule. I’ve been trying to get Ethan to come to a class forever, but he’s a holdout.”

“Typical Russell,” Hunter laughed. “His loss.”

Ethan pushed his seat away from the table and stormed over to the pool table. Smith shot an apologetic look in our direction and followed. He remained over there, steering clear of me for the rest of the evening. It was maddening. I asked Iz to work on Axel in hopes of finding out what was going on with him.

“We’re heading out.” Isabelle grabbed her coat. I noticed that Ethan was doing the same. “Do you want to come to the hockey house with us, or for me to drop you home on the way?” Did I want to be crammed into Isabelle’s backseat with a surly six-foot-four athlete who hated me for no apparent reason? No, I most definitely did not.

“I think I’m going to pass on that,” I said. Isabelle frowned, but before she could speak, Hunter interjected.

“I can walk Ryan home. It’s on my way. If that’s okay with you?” he asked me.

“Okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure what I was doing in this moment. All I knew was, I didn’t want to be in the car with Ethan and walking home alone this late did seem inadvisable. As long as Hunter wasn’t expecting anything to come of the walk.

In the end, he was a perfect gentleman. He gave me a hug and waited to make sure I got inside safely, which was pretty sweet—more than I could say for Ethan tonight, who hadn’t seemed to care what happened to me.

As I was brushing my teeth for bed, my phone pinged with a text notification.

Ethan: You make it home all right?

Ryan: Yep, just got in.

Ethan: Did Hunter walk you home?

Ryan: Yes, why?

Ethan: No reason. See you tomorrow.

Ryan: K.

I wasn’t sure if it was possible for him to be more confusing.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ethan

Much to my father’s annoyance, I booked my Christmas flights so that I could maximize time with my mom at the expense of spending it with him, like usual. I didn’t fly out until tomorrow, but Ryan’s flight was today, and I was giving her a ride so that she didn’t have to pay extortionate airport parking rates or bother with an Uber.

Or at least, that was what I told myself. After steadfastly avoiding her for the past couple of days, my self-control was dwindling. Even though I knew I shouldn’t encourage it, I missed her.

Isabelle had offered, too, but I’d formulated some vague (and completely untrue) excuse about needing to be near the airport anyway to pick up a present for my sisters. It had been a tenuous explanation, given that there were no retail stores within miles of the airport, but they both seemed to take it at face value.

When I got home from practice, I expected to find Ryan packing or, knowing her, already set to leave for the airport. Instead, she was laying on her turquoise yoga mat, folded over in what I thought might be child’s pose. But she was crying.

Normally, I would want to remove myself from a situation like this as quickly as possible. Talking about feelings and emotions wasn’t something I did often, nor was it something I felt comfortable with. But this was Ryan, and I wanted to be there for her, so I tried.

“Hey.” I crouched down, gently placed my hand on her back. “What’s going on?”

She sat up on her knees and wiped her eyes, sniffling. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

The sudden and inappropriate realization hit me: her face was blotchy and red but somehow, she was beautiful even when she was crying. I filed it under “knowledge I can’t act on” and tried to ignore it.

“You don’t need to apologize. Do you want to talk about it?”

She inhaled and exhaled deeply. “It’s just work. It’s heartbreaking sometimes, seeing kids sick.” I nodded sympathetically. “Today was a bad day for one of my patients. He’s only four and he’s the toughest little guy in our ward. But he was having a lot of pain from his chemo. And his prognosis isn’t good.” She trailed off, her voice cracking.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her. It just sort of happened. “I’m sorry, Ryan. That sounds hard. It takes a special kind of person to do the work that you do.”

Once I realized we were full-on embracing in the middle of the living room, I released her, taking a small step back. She shook her head, raking her hand through her shiny, dark hair. “But then I feel selfish for even allowing myself to get upset like this. I mean, can you imagine the hell his parents go through every single day? I don’t know how they do it. It’s almost enough to make me not want kids; I could never take it if something happened to them.”

“I know it might seem that way, but you can’t live your life in fear, either. All you can do is make the choices that align with what your heart tells you to do and hope for the best.”

It was a hypocritical thing for me to say; fear was at the crux of half the things I did lately. Fear of screwing up my career prospects, fear of losing control, fear of being hurt. Again.

“You’re right.” Her voice was strained. “It just takes a lot out of me some days.”

I had the overwhelming urge to fix everything, even though I knew I couldn’t.

“We don’t have to do presents today, if you don’t want to,” I offered, releasing her from the hug that I’d let last a little too long.

“No, I really want to give you your gift.” She smoothed her dark glossy hair, frowning. “Just let me shower and change. Once I wash up and I clear my head, things will seem better. My flight’s on time, I checked. We have to leave by four.”

“Okay,” I said. “Take your time.” I was ashamed to realize I was stalling to delay her departure. I was shameless. She’d had a bad day—missing her flight wouldn’t exactly help.

***

Ryan

As I dried off after my shower, it dawned on me that Ethan was now aware of one of my fatal flaws: I was a crier. Whether I heard good news or bad news, I cried. At weddings, funerals, and new babies, I cried. Watching movies of just about any kind, I cried. I tried to hide it, and at work I usually managed because I had to, but sometimes, in my personal life, it still broke through.

Okay, fine. It probably wasn’t news. I think I teared up the second day I moved in at an SPCA commercial.

Still, part of me was embarrassed that he saw me like that. Between the blog post and my bad day at work, he probably thought I was verging on mentally unstable. Plus, crying at the drop of a hat didn’t mesh with the whole strong, independent vibe that I strived for.

Briefly, I debated whether to do my makeup before going downstairs. It seemed like it might be overkill for going to the airport, but I was also about to be away from Ethan for a week, and vainly, I wanted to look good the last time he saw me. The shower had taken down some of the puffiness from crying, but I decided a little extra help couldn’t hurt; I quickly evened out my skin tone, adding some blush and mascara.

I’d been thrown when he acted like his old self earlier today. The tension from the night at the Brewery had dissolved, at least, for now. I just hoped that the holiday break would help with his stress levels. Maybe then he would go back to being normal.

My hair was not cooperating. I changed the part back and forth several times before giving up and settling on what I hoped would look like intentionally messy hair. He’d seen me looking worse, anyway.

Ethan was sitting on the couch watching TV; he turned it off as I came downstairs and grabbed a present from under the tree. “Ladies first,” he insisted, handing me a small, triangular box wrapped in sparkly red paper.

Inside, perched on a bed of royal blue velvet, was a delicate Swarovski crystal snowflake ornament. The year was engraved on the back. I took it out of the box, holding it by its white satin ribbon and admiring how it sparkled in the light. It was perfect.

“Ethan, it’s beautiful!” I walked over to the tree and carefully hung the snowflake. “Thank you. I love it.”

And I love you? I think? I couldn’t possibly say that out loud.

Grabbing the wide, flat box beside me, I handed it to him. “Your turn.”

He tore open the gunmetal gray wrapping paper and took out the framed, autographed picture of Mathias Lubnik. I’d had it mounted on a black matte with a stainless-steel frame to go with the minimalistic vibe of the condo.

Lubnik was an NHL legend in the making. I’d heard Ethan and his friends say he was the next Gretzky, which I gathered was a big deal. He was one of Ethan’s all-time favorite players—Ethan had a boy crush on him.

A huge grin spread across his handsome face. “Ryan. Oh my god. This is amazing. But this must have cost a fortune,” he said, brow furrowed.

“I may have called in a favor or two with a friend.” I waggled my brows. I was relieved that he liked it. It took me a long time to figure out what to get him. Between being a guy and being financially comfortable, he didn’t really need or want for much.

“I want your friends,” he laughed.

“It wasn’t a big deal. My cousin’s husband knows him—they go way back. All I had to do was make a call and then get it framed. Easy peasy.” Of course, one fifty-percent off coupon at Michaels had made that significantly easier on the wallet.

“You’re the best. The guys are going to lose their minds with jealousy,” he cackled. Men were so weird sometimes.

***

Ethan

It was Christmas Eve, and I was bummed that my visit with my mom ended tomorrow. After my parents split up when I was twelve, she had done all the heavy lifting. I talked to her at least once a week, if not more, but I didn’t see her as often as I would have liked. Her second husband, Ted, was a great guy, too—he had three kids of his own, all older than me with their own kids.

Christmas was always lively at their place, sometimes verging on chaotic. As a hockey player, Uncle Ethan was considered the epitome of cool, and I had six highly enthusiastic fans under the age of eight who constantly tackled me, used me as a jungle gym, and begged for piggyback rides. I had also been coerced via cuteness into assembling countless labor-intensive plastic Christmas presents containing infinite pieces. It had been a fun but exhausting visit.

Also exhausting was that my mother kept talking about Ryan; she’d adored her when they met just at Thanksgiving. Since then, I’d been constantly reminded of how cute, smart, sweet, and lovely Ryan was (all true) and wasn’t it great that she was a nurse, she seemed so hardworking, she was perfect, and so on,

Basically, my mom was hell-bent on reinforcing everything I was trying to talk myself out of feeling.

I had only been away from Ryan for three days and I missed her like crazy. She was on my mind enough without my mom’s help. It wasn’t good. We’d had one brief, cordial text exchange, but I didn’t want to be seem needy by texting her constantly.

If anything, the break from seeing each other was exactly what I needed. With some distance, maybe I could get my head on straight and get my priorities in order. I would make sure we were better about maintaining boundaries after the break. Somehow. Hockey needed to be my primary focus. Then school.

And I also needed to focus in order to cope with Christmas Day redux, when I would be flying out to spend time with my father, Blair, Mads, and Char, and we would do our own version of Christmas on the twenty-eighth. I loved them, of course, but I wasn’t able to relax around my father in the same way that I could with my mother. His very presence put me on edge; being myself with him never seemed like quite enough. It felt like I had to play a part the entire time.

The only upside was that he didn’t know enough about my life to know or ask about Ryan in the first place.

My phone dinged.

Axel: Merry Christmas, hockeybro.

Ethan: Thanks. You too, Ax.

Axel: You’re going to make it back for New Year’s, right?

Ethan: I’m going to try.

Axel: Do or do not, there is no try.

Ethan: Star Wars? Really?

Axel: It’s going to be epic. Isabelle is making Jell-O shooters. And I’m, well, gracing the party with my awesome presence.

Ethan: I’ve got a late flight booked. Just depends if I get delayed or bumped. It’s the holidays, so anything could happen.

Axel: Anything, huh? Like you might man up and finally kiss a certain someone?

Ethan: I told you . . .

Axel: All hockey. Right. Got it. Speaking of that, let’s make sure your big head stays in the game after Christmas break, yes?

Ethan: I’m trying, man.

Axel: Has it occurred to you that the sexual tension you’re creating is probably worse for your game? The best way to get rid of sexual tension is to just . . .

Ethan: Not going to happen.

Axel: Fine, be that way. Don’t blame me if your manhood falls off from lack of use.

Ethan: Where is the middle finger emoji again?

Axel: See you New Year’s. Be there, or you’re off the team.

Ethan: I’m the captain.

Axel: Too bad.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ryan

“Take care, honey.” My mother gave me a tight squeeze as we stood on the curb at the airport, taxis whizzing past us in the falling snow. I could tell she was fighting back tears. I was, too. Saying goodbye was always hard. I wished we lived closer together, but we probably never would. My hometown was small enough to induce claustrophobia. It had been a nice, safe place to grow up, but I just couldn’t live there as an adult.

“I will, Mom. And don’t worry, we can plan your wedding together over the phone and by text. I’ll create a Pinterest board for us, even,” I told her. “We have almost a year, still, so we have lots of time.”

I waved back at my mom as she drove off in the car. My suspicions had been spot-on: my mom was getting married. In Mexico next November. Of course, I was the maid of honor. I was happy for her, even if it would take some time to wrap my mind around the whole thing. Somehow, even though my family was technically getting bigger, it made me feel a little more alone.

***

When I pulled up to the hockey house, I could hear the bass from the street; the party was in full swing. I made my way inside, where it was swarming with partygoers in dressy New Year’s attire. It was kind of like that saying, “alone in a crowd.” I would try to have a good time, but really, all I wanted was to see Ethan.

I walked in to find Isabelle and Hunter laughing over a tray of Jell-O shooters in a rainbow of colors. To my surprise, she seemed to be warming to Hunter. The jury was still out for me. I couldn’t deny that he looked hot, though—he was wearing distressed designer jeans and a pale purple dress shirt that hugged his athletic torso. I wasn’t sure if he’d gone somewhere warm over break, but he had a tan and looked like some kind of all-American clothing catalog model.

Iz was no slouch herself, in a hot pink dress with a plunging neckline, and loose curls like a Victoria’s Secret model. Hunter didn’t seem to notice my arrival. His phone rang and he headed into the other room to take it, giving me the chance to catch up with Iz.

“What was that about?” I asked her.

“What? Hunter? Just chatting. He’s not so bad. He can be pretty funny,” she shrugged. “He really has a thing for you. But I know your attention is elsewhere.”

Luca was over by the kitchen table, chatting with Smith, Ava, and a cute blonde girl that I hadn’t met before. “Hey, Ryan,” he said. “Come here for a sec so I can introduce you.”

“It’s okay,” Isabelle said. “I’ve got to go talk to Axel.”

I smirked. “Talk, or have make-up sex?” Per her texts, they’d had one of their famous arguments earlier this evening. Sometimes, I thought they made up excuses to argue so they could make up after.

“Hmmm, a bit of both, maybe.”

At a loss for other people that I knew, I made my way over to where Luca and Smith were standing.

“Hi, I’m Karissa,” the blonde with him said, giving me a small wave. The name was familiar. Ethan had mentioned she was dating Luca. Or hooking up with Luca, anyway.

“Hey, Karissa. Ryan. Nice to meet you.” Most of the other guys didn’t have girlfriends and it was nice to have another female around to balance out the energy.

“Ryan!” Ava exclaimed, butting in. “You didn’t tell me Ethan had such cute friends.” She nodded in Smith’s direction. Smith, in turn, actually blushed. I wasn’t sure whether it would be a good thing if this led to anything more; she was a man-eater and he seemed like the quiet type. Then again, maybe he was a closet sex bomb and they’d be a perfect match.

While Ava worked her charm on Smith, I made small talk with Luca and Karissa. She mentioned she had just transferred into the nursing program this year; technically she was also a junior, but she still had to pick up a few extra classes. It gave us some common ground, and I was left feeling happy that I may have made a new ally against the guys, someone who might take my side when it came to music choices or the merits of (ugh) football.

“Careful with that one there; she’s slippery,” Smith murmured to me as Luca steered Karissa and Ava toward the makeshift bar to mix some more drinks.

“Slippery?” I frowned. “What do you mean? She seemed nice enough.”

“She’s friends with Alexis. Best friends. We’re nice to her because of Luca, but she can’t be trusted. Things we tell her seem to have a way of getting back to Alexis.”

I shuddered. Not the A-word again. “Speaking of that, she isn’t going to show up here tonight. is she?”

“No way. She is persona non grata around these parts,” he reassured me emphatically. It was a breath of fresh air compared to Ethan’s perpetually neutral demeanor. “She knows she’s not welcome.”

Alexis was the last thing I needed while ringing in a new year. Seeing her would probably curse it.

Smith added in a low voice, “Just between you and me, though, I kind of suspect Karissa was behind the whole To the Letter thing. She was at the party on Halloween. And Ethan told Luca he couldn’t bring her over to Thanksgiving at your place. I think she might have done it to get revenge. I haven’t told anyone else this, though, because I don’t have any proof. I just wanted you to be aware in a watch-your-back kind of way.”

Well, that sucked. It just went to show how much my judgment about people was off. I always wanted to give the benefit of the doubt even when it wasn’t warranted. And now I had a potential enemy within my own faculty. Peachy.

Just then, Hunter walked back over to the Jell-O shooter tray, flanked by two very pretty girls. Other than the fact that one was blond and the other was a brunet, they may as well have been carbon copies in their short, tight, bodycon dresses and long, straight hair.

Judging by their body language and proximity, it almost seemed like he was there with them both. As in, with them. Which, while not my business, was a little odd. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining things, though, because he excused himself as soon as he saw me and headed in my direction. The blond rolled her eyes and the two disappeared together into another room.

“Wow,” he said with a smile as he came over to where Smith and I were standing. “You look amazing.”

He wasn’t Ethan, but it still felt good to hear. I smiled. “Thanks.”

“Hey, what’s up Hunter?” Smith asked. I didn’t detect the outright hatred that Ethan had for Hunter, but Smith was so chill that it was hard to picture him getting into it like that with anyone. There was a definite edge of frost to his tone.

“Not much. Just wondering when Ryan was actually going to make an appearance at one of our games.” He flashed me a lopsided grin.

“I have been to a few, just not lately. But it looks like you already have more groupies than you know what to do with, anyway.”

“None that matter.” Hunter winked. He was smooth, I’d give him that. Maybe too smooth.

“Ryan, do you know where the plastic champagne cups are?” Isabelle called out to me from the kitchen. She frowned as she unsuccessfully rummaged through the kitchen cabinets.

The hockey house wasn’t known for keeping a well-stocked collection of crystal. Or, well, for having any drinkware at all. I wasn’t sure what the guys subsisted on, how they ate or drank, but somehow, they stayed alive.

“I think I saw them on the table in the front entry,” I said. “I’ll go grab them.”

“Be quick! It’s almost midnight and I have champagne to pour,” she called after me.

I rushed down the hall to the foyer. When I turned the corner, I found Ethan standing there, checking his phone. He must have just gotten in from his late flight out of Connecticut.

Butterflies filled my stomach and I felt strangely nervous, considering I lived with the guy. And of course, he was wearing a charcoal suit and light-blue dress shirt with the top buttons open. Nothing was hotter than Ethan in a suit; how was it that he constantly had reasons to wear one? It was like the universe was taunting me.“Hi!” My voice came out twice as loud as intended. Dial it down, Ryan.

Ethan looked up from his phone. “Hi yourself.” He gave me a smile that made my knees go soft. It was the first time I had seen him since before Christmas and it hit me how much I’d missed him.

“My flight was delayed, but we landed sooner than I expected,” he explained. “Nice dress,” he added, raising his eyebrows approvingly.

It was silver, sparkly, and short. I had picked it out with him in mind. “Nice suit.”

“I’m a little overdressed. I didn’t have time to change before the airport.

I’d had a few drinks and I was feeling pretty tipsy; combined with the surprise of seeing him, I was a little incoherent. I tried to keep it together. “Isabelle sent me to, um . . .” Why was I there again?

He pointed to the bag of glasses sitting on the wooden bench beside him. “Find the cups?” he guessed.

“Right,” I said, stepping closer to grab them. As I did, I could hear everyone call out from the other room, “3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . Happy New Year!”

We looked at each other awkwardly for what felt like ten minutes but was actually more like ten seconds. It was clear neither of us knew what to do. He was only a foot away from me, but inches may as well have been miles.

Finally, he stepped forward tentatively and I followed suit, meeting him in the middle. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what was about to happen and I thought he might kiss me.

But instead, he wrapped his arms around me. He smelled amazing; again, the universe really had it out for me. We embraced in what could only be described as The Most Uncomfortable Hug Ever.

Dammit.

“Happy New Year,” he said quietly.

I tried to keep my tone bright, hiding my disappointment. “Happy New Year.”

After, we headed back into the living room to mingle and avoid each other for the rest of the evening.

***

Ethan

By around two, most of the people still at the party were getting sloppy—Ryan included. It was definitely time to call it a night. I hailed a cab and we climbed in. Or rather, I climbed and she fell. She was toast. Jesus, who had been feeding her drinks? It had better not have been Hunter.

He had been hanging around her all night. I couldn’t tell whether she liked him as more than a friend; sometimes she flirted back, sometimes she didn’t. Nothing had actually happened between them, in spite of his efforts otherwise. Hopefully, nothing ever would. Ryan deserved so much better than a guy like Hunter Price.

There was no shortage of girls ready to throw themselves at him, either. I wished he would lay off Ryan and go find someone else.

Looking out the window, I sighed as I watched the streetlights speed by in a blur. I had jumped through hoops to make my flight just so I could go to the party tonight. And then at midnight, I couldn’t even pull the trigger. Frustration and disappointment ran through me. This limbo with Ryan was driving me insane. But the rational side of me knew it was probably better that I hadn’t kissed her. Less complicated this way. Ryan deserved more than what I could give her, too.

She interrupted my thoughts by laying her head on my shoulder. I could smell the scent of her shampoo (something earthy, like rosemary mixed with mint) and her perfume (which I couldn’t identify, but it was intoxicating all the same). I wanted to bury my face in her hair, but I refrained.

Normally, having her this close would have made for major sexual tension on my end, but she was too drunk for this to turn into anything more. This was decidedly non-sexual comfort snuggling. I had to admit, it felt good.

At home, I unlocked the door and helped her undo her strappy silver heels. She was swaying a little. I was worried that she might fall on the staircase, so I held her by the arm and walked her in her room.

She was in no state to change out of her clothes and it felt too creepy to help her get undressed. Instead, I covered her up in her bed and went downstairs to grab her some water and Advil for the next morning.

When I returned, I heard her voice pipe up from in the darkness. “Ethan? Do you think I’m pretty?”

Given her condition, she probably wouldn’t remember this. I figured I could afford a little honesty. “Of course. You’re beautiful,” I said as I set the water and pill bottle down on her nightstand.

“Then why didn’t you kiss me at midnight?” she mumbled, yawning.

“I wanted to,” I said quietly, but she was already snoring softly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Ryan

Ethan wasn’t home when I returned from a twelve-hour shift at the hospital. As January crawled on, his absence had become the norm, just like it had been before Christmas.

The condo was too silent as I walked in. All I could hear was the low, quiet buzz of the refrigerator. Depressing. I’d been keeping busy with school, clinicals, and teaching yoga. But still, I was lonely. And I didn’t understand—what was the point in having a roommate that you never even saw?

Bigger feelings aside, I missed having him around, even as a friend. It broke my heart that he was avoiding me, especially since I didn’t know why. I tried to push it to the corner of my mind, but it was always there.

I wanted to confront him—to ask him what was going on or what I’d done. But he was so closed-off lately that I knew it would be no use. I would get no answers from a brick wall.

The emptiness weighed on me as I sat down at the island to eat. I needed company.

I texted Iz to see if she wanted to come by after her evening broadcasting class. She agreed, and came over shortly after nine armed with a bathing suit and all the best snacks: salt and vinegar chips, Twizzlers, and dark chocolate. Call it best friend’s intuition—I think she knew that I was feeling down.

The weather was decent—for January, anyway—so we decided to take advantage of the hot tub out on the deck. Might as well, I figured, because at the rate things were going, I might not be living here much longer.

The air was crisp and cool, and the view second-to-none—the whole river valley sprawled before us in its quiet, frozen beauty. Hoarfrost covered the trees below and made for an eerily pretty scene.

The serenity outside was a stark contrast to the chaos in my head. I’d accepted a date with Hunter, but now I was having major second thoughts. I was going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, like some kind of emotional tennis match.

“Iz, what should I do?” I lamented. We had to nearly yell over the sound of the jets bubbling—I hoped Ethan didn’t come home and overhear.

“Well, Hunter’s not Ethan. And if it’s not going to happen with Ethan, maybe you do need to try to move on.” She shrugged. “Only you know what you want.”

Who was she, the Buddha? I wanted someone to tell me what to do, not to speak in riddles.

“Even I don’t know what I want.”

“Look, if you think there might be a chance with Hunter, it’s worth a shot. But if you aren’t into him, then don’t waste your time. Or his,” she said matter-of-factly, retying her hot-pink bikini strap.

It sounded obvious enough, but it wasn’t. In a vacuum, I thought I might have liked him. He was hot and charming enough, with a dash of arrogance. Maybe a little reminiscent of my ex, which was a strike in the cons column.

But being close to Ethan was like staring at the sun. His presence was blinding; all-consuming, and now it was all I could think about.

Hunter probably wasn’t long-term-boyfriend material, but he might be good enough for a distraction and at this point, I needed one. Badly.

“How are things going with Axel?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Good. I think I scared his groupies off. He and I don’t exactly see eye-to-eye about what should happen after we graduate next year, though.”

Wow. Next year? Things really were getting serious with them.

Iz had big aspirations for after graduation and Axel did, too. I could see how that would be a sticking point; they would both be at the mercy of the offers they received, and neither would have much say in where they ended up, geographically. I was impressed that they were already thinking so far ahead.

And then there was me, unable to decide what to do with myself about a date three days in the future.

***

After a night of fragmented sleep, stressing over what to do, I woke early with a headache radiating through the right side of my head. It was the throbbing, blinding, splitting variety. A migraine in the making. Fumbling, I finally found some extra-strength Advil in my bathroom and swallowed two before crawling back into bed for a few more hours of sleep.

Thankfully, the headache was less severe when I woke again, but I still felt on edge. I knew I had to make a choice, or the indecision would stress me out for the rest of the day.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know Ethan’s thoughts on this whole thing. Not knowing allowed me to live in a place of happy denial where he felt the same way I did. In reality, that was probably not the case.

Taking my time, I got dressed to teach a morning yoga flow before my afternoon classes. Pulling on my eggplant yoga capris, I weighed the likelihood of Ethan still being home. Maybe if I dawdled, he would be gone and I wouldn’t have to face him.

Alas, no. He was eating a bowl of Multigrain Cheerios at the kitchen island when I came downstairs. Fine. I’d do it. I would bring up the date and see if his reaction provided some kind of clarity. If he didn’t react, I had an answer then, too. At least I’d know.

“Hey, so Hunter asked me out on a date for Friday night,” I said casually. In my peripheral vision, I watched him, trying to gauge his response as I filled the kettle and put it on the stove. Nothing. He didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Oh, that’s cool,” he said neutrally. “I could tell that he liked you.”

“Do you think I should say yes?” I asked, hoping he would say no.

He shrugged as he scrolled on his phone. “Sure, if you want.”

To say he was indifferent would be putting it lightly. Either that or he was working his poker face to its full strength. I decided to pry a bit, hoping for some show of emotion.

I put an Earl Grey tea bag into my lucky purple mug as the kettle started to whistle. “I thought you said he was a player.”

“You can take care of yourself,” he replied, taking a bite of cereal. Ouch. Lucky purple mug, you failed me.

His detached attitude was hurtful, but I tried to hide it. “All right. I guess I’ll give him a chance.”

Ethan nodded and grunted almost inaudibly.

Well, okay then. First, avoiding me, and now this? Moving on seemed like a better and better idea.

***

Ethan

After Ryan left for work, I nearly punched a hole through the wall. The only thing that stopped me was the fact that I would have had to explain the hole to her later. Maybe I could go pick up a good punching bag and stash it in my closet. Then I could tape a picture of Hunter’s face to it and I’d be all set.

Red-hot frustration coursed through my veins as I clenched my fists. Just the thought of his hands on her made my skin crawl.

Fucking Hunter.

I knew this would probably happen eventually, but I didn’t expect her to actually say yes.

Arrogantly, part of me had hoped that she was into me and that would be enough to make her turn him down. Even admitting that to myself sounded insane; it was caveman thinking.

The more evolved part of my brain knew I had no claim over her. I hadn’t acted on my feelings. And I wasn’t ready to give Ryan what she needed or deserved. I was still recovering from the emotional hurricane known as Alexis.

But still. Fucking Hunter.

I wanted to crush him the next time we were on the ice. And I fully planned to, if I could find any remotely passable excuse.

I couldn’t stand to be home to witness this horror of a date. I sent out a group text to a bunch of the guys on the team; Friday night, we were going out drinking.

***

Ryan

By the time I got home from my Friday afternoon classes, Ethan was gone. No surprise. I had an hour to get ready before Hunter would arrive, so I showered quickly. After, I called Iz and put her on speakerphone while I got dressed and did my makeup. I needed moral support.

“Hey!” she said perkily. I sensed Axel was over. We really needed a code word for that. “Excited for the big date?”

“Yeah, I am.” Sort of.

“Nervous?”

“No, not really,” I said honestly. I didn’t know whether that was a good or bad sign. Nerves struck me more before seeing Ethan in the hallway on New Year’s Eve. Or whenever I first walked into the apartment and he was home. Not before an actual first date with Hunter. What did that say?

I wasn’t sure what, exactly, one was supposed to wear to an art show. Google was of limited help. After staring at my closet for several minutes, I finally settled on a black-and-white V-neck dress and black pumps, leaving my hair down in loose waves.

The condo buzzer chimed. Go time. I opened the door to find Hunter wearing a light-blue polo, dark jeans and brown loafers. He looked hot, and I could tell he knew it. I did have a certain weakness for cocky bastards.

“Hey,” he said with a grin, leaning down to give me a hug. His cologne smelled like the ocean: beachy, salty, fresh.

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

“I thought we could grab a bite at Bistro Italia first, and then hit the art show,” he said. “If you’re good with Italian.”

Bistro Italia was one of the better restaurants in our college town. It was more than I was expecting. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, probably something like drinks at the local pub. We headed downstairs together.

“Here, let me get that for you,” he said, opening the car door for me. Ethan always opened doors for me, but I was a little surprised to have Hunter do the same.

“Thanks,” I said, sliding into his black coupe.

“You’re a nursing major, right?” he asked as he pulled onto the street.

“Yeah. What about you?” I asked. It occurred to me that I didn’t know a ton about him.

“Premed,” he said casually. “But it depends what happens with hockey.”

He was smarter than I’d given him credit for, by the sounds of it. Unfortunately, like Ethan, he also had NHL aspirations. I wondered if those aspirations made him act as crazy as they made Ethan act sometimes.

Dinner went better than I had hoped it would; we laughed and talked the entire time without any awkward silences. To my surprise, Hunter was pretty funny.

And, of course, it helped that he was gorgeous. Our waitress clearly agreed because she was drooling all over him. I wasn’t positive, because he paid, but I was pretty sure she wrote her number on the bill. It didn’t bother me as much as it probably should have.

My own feelings for him were more platonic in nature, but I tried to tell myself that passion could grow over time. And I wasn’t looking for a husband, anyway. I just wanted someone to hang out with. Someone for now. I could do worse; he checked most of the boxes on paper.

But he wasn’t Ethan.

I reminded myself that Ethan didn’t want me. And moving on would be better for our friendship, because I would be able to stop being so damn lovestruck around him all the time.

We walked to the art show from the restaurant; it was just two blocks down, in a lofty commercial space. It was freezing, and so the two blocks seemed shorter in theory than in reality.

“Are you okay?” he asked me as we power-walked down the snowy street.

“Fine,” I said, shivering. Bare legs in January hadn’t been the best plan.

“No you’re not, you’re freezing,” he pointed out. “When we’re done, I’ll get the car and drive it back here so you don’t have to go back outside.”

When we walked into the exhibit, I was confronted with stark white walls, jazz music, and art that I didn’t understand. I was completely out of my element. Hunter explained some of the exhibit to me as we explored the gallery. Mood, contrast, variation, color.

“How do you know all this?” I asked him, curious.

“My friend Jason is one of the featured artists. We’ve been friends since we were twelve. He teaches me about art, and I teach him about hockey. Well, I try to. He finds hockey boring,” he laughed.

Objectively, it was one of the better dates I had been on. Then again, that list was short. True to his word, he went and warmed up the car, so I didn’t have to walk back in the cold. I appreciated it.

When we arrived at the condo, he parked and walked me up to my door. Panic set in as I wondered whether he would try to kiss me, whether I wanted him to try to kiss me, and whether Ethan was home to see it.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said with a smile as we stood out in the hall. “I had fun.”

“I did too.”

He learned in, hesitantly, and brushed his lips against mine.

First, I let him kiss me. And then I kissed him back.

It was a short, gentle kiss. I hoped for fireworks, and what I got was something else. I wasn’t entirely sure. I was kissing a hot guy—I did feel something. I wasn’t dead.

But did I feel like I thought I should? Not really. Mostly, I was wishing he was Ethan.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Ryan

“Hey, Goldilocks. What are you doing sleeping in my bed?” I heard Ethan ask me teasingly.

I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I assumed this was yet another dream involving Ethan and a bed. They’d become a common occurrence for mem and most of the time, they weren’t rated PG.

Groggily, I rolled over to find him lying beside me on the bed, amusement playing across his full lips. The clock on his nightstand read 8:33.

This was not a dream, but I was starting to wish it was. Why was I in his bed? I felt like a total idiot. Or worse, a crazy stalker. A crazy stalker roommate.

“You didn’t come home last night. I was lonely,” I offered, lamely.

Around four in the morning, I’d woken up after a bad dream and had gone to double-check whether he was back. I had been expecting to find him asleep in his bed, but the condo, and his room, had been totally dark and empty. Deserted.

At the time, in my sleep-addled state, lying down in his bed had seemed comforting. In the light of day, it was embarrassing. It occurred to me, too late, that I should have blamed it on sleepwalking.

He smirked. “Lonely, eh? What about Hunter? After all, you were out with him last night.”

His tone was almost accusatory, and I wasn’t used = to hearing him speak to me like that. I could smell alcohol on his breath underneath the scent of his toothpaste. I wondered where he stayed last night. He looked hungover, but somehow the light five o’clock shadow he was sporting suited him. Of course.

I shrugged and avoided eye contact by closely examining the seam of his dark-gray pillowcase.

“I don’t know. It was fine. Is that why you didn’t come home last night? Because I was on a date?”

“What if it was?”

My knees turned to jelly, and I wasn’t even standing up. “What do you mean?”

He propped himself up on his elbow and pinned me with his gaze; his eyes were the kind of deep blue that you could drown in.

I was all too aware that we were on a bed together, only inches apart. His bed was a king, and he was far closer to me than he needed to be, given the room to spare. The proximity was making me lightheaded.

“What if I said I didn’t like you dating him?” he asked, his voice gravelly and brimming with suggestion.

I felt naked even though I was fully clothed. I flushed, squirming under his probing gaze. “I guess it would depend why.”

He opened his mouth to say something and then stopped himself. Rolling onto his back, he exhaled loudly.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Ryan. We can’t do this,” he said, staring at the ceiling for a moment. He stood up, refusing to meet my eyes, and said, “I’m going to take a shower.”

What just happened?

I wanted to punch him in the face.

***

Ethan

Icy water poured over my shoulders and back as I berated myself for crossing the line. Hell, I hadn’t just crossed the line—I’d obliterated it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Coming home to Ryan in my bed threw me for a loop and I didn’t handle it well. In fact, I fucked up. I had definitely traveled into “making it weird” territory.

While Ryan was on her date with Hunter, Axel and Smith both went out of their way to remind me that I was acting like an idiot for not pursuing her and that I should stop being a martyr. The worst part was, they were right.

Instead of doing something about it, like an emotionally functional person would, I went out with them and tried to drink until I forgot about it. While we were at the bar, Geoff ran into some sophomore girls that he knew. One of them, Shanna, flirted pretty heavily with me and I played along in hopes of making myself feel better, but I wasn’t really into it. At all.

After dodging several of Shanna’s attempts to kiss me, I hailed a cab and left the rest of the guys at O’Malley’s. Then I stayed over at the hockey house afterwards out of fear I might say or do something I’d regret if I saw Ryan. Something like I’d gone and done this morning anyway.

What had I been thinking? Oh, right. I wasn’t thinking. That was the problem.

Not unexpectedly, Ryan was gone when I got out of the shower. I needed damage control, but I didn’t even know where to start.

***

Ryan and I spent the next few days avoiding each other. Between our schedules, it was surprisingly easy; games and practice ate up most of my time, while class and clinicals occupied hers.

The odd time we crossed paths, one of us left the condo or went to another room. We barely spoke, and I studied more than I had all year just to avoid dealing with the situation.

Not only was it stifling, I missed her.

And so, I cracked before she did. She managed to outlast me, the notoriously stubborn Ethan Russell.

About a week after the bedroom incident, I skipped my finance tutorial and came home early when I knew Ryan was likely to be there. She was in the living room taking notes from her anatomy textbook, and she didn’t look up.

Apprehension crackled through me. Tackling this head on would be best, but that didn’t make it any easier. I sat down across on the square ottoman across from her and rested my elbows on my knees. “Ry, can we talk?”

She looked up at me then, her face painfully blank. “Sure.” She shrugged, returning her attention to her textbook.

“I want to apologize about the other day,” I said. “I know what we said before about not making things weird.”

“Okay,” she said, flatly, still making notes.

Her indifference—though warranted—was jarring. She had her guard up and I didn’t know how to change that.

I frowned. “Okay? That’s it?”

Not exactly what I was going for. I didn’t know what I was going for; I just couldn’t stand for things to be so strained between us.

Ryan sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing the bridge of her nose. When she focused on me again, she looked tired. Worse, she looked wary; like she didn’t trust me.

“What do you want me to say, Ethan?” she asked, her tone razor-sharp. “That you’re impossible? Because you are. You do know it’s okay to form emotional attachments to other people, right? It’s okay to care about other people.”

It stung. Did she honestly think I didn’t care about her? That was so far from the truth. The problem was that I did care about her—too much. It had turned everything upside down.

“I know. I do care about you.”

“You have a funny way of showing it sometimes.”

Anxious energy ran down my body and suddenly, I couldn’t sit still. I wanted so badly to touch her, to reach out and grab her, but I knew I shouldn’t.

“It’s just the timing of all this,” I said, getting up and pacing the width of the living room. “I can’t right now, Ry. I want to. But I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Don’t be like that,” I pleaded. This was going sideways on me, fast. I just needed her to understand where I was coming from. “My game has already weakened,” I said quietly, coming to a stop in front of her. “I can’t allow myself to become any more distracted. There’s too much on the line. It’s my future.”

Her mouth set in a hard line. She looked like she might scream. “We aren’t even together. How am I a distraction?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know how to explain it to her. “You’re what’s taking my head out of the game.”

“So, it’s my fault now?” she asked, her face a mixture of hurt and confusion. It didn’t sound so logical when I said it out loud.

“Yes. I mean, no. I don’t know.”

I still hadn’t told her about how my shoulder injury last month had happened because I was wrapped up in thinking about her instead of focusing on the game. It wasn’t her fault, but I couldn’t keep letting things like that happen. It was a total rookie move. I should be better than that.

“I’m tired of this hot-and-cold, push-and-pull, mindfuck routine,” she said, on the verge of tears. Shit. I hated seeing her cry. And I definitely didn’t want to be the cause of it.

It was never my intention to play games with her. I even tried to hide how I felt about her dating Hunter, until my still-drunk, jealous, idiot self screwed that up one morning in my bed.

I knew she had every right to date whoever she wanted. But I didn’t want her to. I wanted her to be mine, even though I wasn’t ready to have her. Even though I couldn’t give her what she wanted or deserved.

“I never meant for it to come across that way. I told you that I need to focus on hockey. There’s just no room for anything else. I have to stay on point, all the time.”

“Come on, Ethan. You’re so young. Do they honestly expect you to be a perfect person in addition to being a perfect hockey player?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what they expect. Think of what’s at stake here: these contracts are big money. Signing a hockey player is an investment, and no one wants someone who’s unstable or who performs unevenly. They want to know what they’re getting. You don’t understand the kind of pressure I’m under.”

As soon as I spoke, I could tell by her expression that I’d hit a nerve. Immediately, I regretted what I’d said.

“I don’t?” Her cheeks flushed with anger. “At least you have parents who are able and willing to help you. If you screw up, you’ll still have a job. You’ll still eat, make rent, and go on with your life—probably a better life than most people could ever hope for.”

She took a breath, gesturing. “What do I have? Hardly a dime to my name and a mountain of student debt despite killing myself to get as many academic scholarships as possible. I have no fallback.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I wanted to play hockey, but life would go on if I didn’t. It only felt like life or death sometimes.

“Look, being an athlete is stressful. You’re the product—I get that. Do you get that other people have stress and worries too? You’re so caught up in yourself and your own life that you have no empathy for the struggles of anyone else.”

I thought I did, but maybe I didn’t convey it very well. It bothered me immensely to hear that she thought I was so self-absorbed. Now I really wasn’t sure what to do; I felt like anything I said in this moment would be wrong. I froze.

Ryan continued, apparently angered by my lack of response. “And furthermore, it’s also okay for two consenting adults to have sex. Not everyone has to be celibate like you,” she snapped, closing her book and storming upstairs.

Good one, Ethan; way to smooth things over.

So much for damage control.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ryan

It was either yell at Ethan and lose my temper or burst into tears and lose my composure. I went with the former, at least until I was in the sanctuary of my own room.

With trembling hands, I locked the door behind me and sank onto the bed. Heart racing, I drew in a breath to steady myself. His rejection stung like a slap as his words echoed through my ears: “I can’t right now, Ryan.”

I knew that wasn’t true. If he wanted to, he could; I was right here. But I had my answer now and I could move on. Or keep trying to, at least.

My eyes welled with tears. I took another deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink them away, but they overflowed anyway. Dammit. I didn’t want him to hear me cry.

It wasn’t like we were even together. Why was I taking this so hard?

And now I was trapped in here until I calmed down. I didn’t even know where he was in the condo, but I needed to put as much distance between us as possible. Maybe I could scrub the despair off myself.

Numbly, I walked into the en suite and turned on the shower to its nearly hottest setting. Stripping down, I stepped in and let the water burn my skin as the steam swallowed me. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend all of this wasn’t happening. Like everything wasn’t falling apart.

It didn’t work.

And then, everything poured out of me. I sat down on the shower bench and started to really cry with big, heaving sobs. The gasping-for-air type of crying where you can’t stop. There was a good chance Ethan might overhear me even with the water running, but I couldn’t control it. I felt like I was breaking in two. Months spent telling myself that it was just a superficial attraction, when I knew it wasn’t.

I had fallen for him.

His adorable bedhead in the morning. All of our inside jokes. Late night ice cream on the couch. His terrible taste in movies. How we never ran out of things to say. Pancakes and bacon on the weekends. The fact that he was just a little bit tone deaf but tried to sing anyway.

The way it felt when he touched me.

I didn’t know when it had crossed the line for me, I just knew that it had.

But not for him.

And now, I just felt like a fool. How could I have misread things so badly? He’d been acting so strangely lately that I should have known that he didn’t feel the same way. Malignant optimism at its worst.

I didn’t know what to do.

My options were limited—move out (where?), try to avoid him until things blew over (but would they ever?), or pretend the whole thing had never happened (likely impossible). I could stay with Iz for a while, at least some of the nights Axel wasn’t there, but it wasn’t a permanent solution.

And then there was the fact that I was seeing Hunter. I didn’t even know how I felt about that.

What was I doing? My personal life was a complete disaster.

***

That evening, Hunter suggested stopping by the Dirty Martini where the rest of the team was hanging out. My gut told me it wasn’t a good idea, but I couldn’t think of a reason to say no. And I didn’t want to tell Hunter what had happened with Ethan earlier.

When we walked in, Ethan noticed us from across the room and glared at Hunter. Even in the dim light of the bar, it was obvious—if looks could kill, Hunter would have died ten times over. Ethan refused to so much as look at me.

What was his problem? He was infuriating. He didn’t want me. You don’t get to reject someone and then be territorial over them. You just don’t. To add further insult to injury, he was surrounded by three pretty girls who looked like they might be freshmen, and he was as handsome as ever.

They were batting their eyes at him and hanging off his every word. I think they may have been actively pushing their cleavage in his face. It was nauseating. To his credit, he didn’t appear to be particularly enjoying their company.

Briefly, I understood what Alexis must have dealt with when they were together. It would get old seeing girls throw themselves at your boyfriend all the time. Not that it justified her behavior.

I wished Isabelle had been able to come, but she had a big communications project due the next day. Or so she’d said—Axel was conspicuously absent as well.

To be fair, I hadn’t yet told her about the bed incident with Ethan or the fallout from it. She had no idea how badly I needed someone in my corner. The tension was so thick that I could hardly breathe. Hunter went to get us drinks at the bar and ended up in the middle of a heated debate with Luca about the merits of some goalie I’d never heard of. I sat at the table awkwardly, alone.

“Hey, Ryan,” Smith said as he sat down beside me, coming to my rescue.

I loved him for it but could tell that even he felt uneasy. Great. Now the other guys were being weird with me, too.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I replied, fidgeting with a cardboard coaster.

“Good. I haven’t seen you lately. I miss having you around,” he said quietly. He meant well but it also hurt to hear, because I missed being around.

“Yeah, I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“Neither am I,” he admitted, taking a sip of his beer.

At least I wasn’t the only one in the dark.

Ethan didn’t speak two words to me, and it made for an uncomfortable night. Most of the guys on the team were friends with both Ethan and Hunter and I guessed they were used to navigating the rift between them, but I wasn’t.

Desperately needing a reprieve from the awkwardness, I excused myself to use the bathroom. I needed a breather more than the bathroom itself.

Just as I finished peeing, I heard some girls walk into the bathroom.

“You were right, Jenna, he came,” one of them said conspiratorially. She added, “You two were looking awfully cozy at the bar the other night.”

I froze. The bathroom stalls had wooden floor-to-ceiling doors and they didn’t realize I was in the bathroom. I couldn’t walk out now, or they would know I had overheard their conversation.

They rustled around in their purses, likely finding makeup to reapply. Hurry up.

Jenna—I assumed—giggled and said in a hushed voice, “I know, right? Ethan is so hot. I think we are going to definitely hook up tonight.”

Wait. Now Ethan was getting cozy with some random girl? That must have been why he didn’t come home the other night. His rejection seared through me all over again. So all his talk about focusing on hockey was just an excuse. If he wasn’t into me, why wouldn’t he just admit that and save both of us a whole lot of trouble?

“You could be the first to break his chastity streak,” the unnamed friend laughed.

The very thought made me sick with jealousy. I knew it was wrong, since I was there with Hunter, but my reaction was so visceral that I couldn’t help it.

Jenna giggled. “He could take me home in a heartbeat.”

Please, no. My breathing hastened, nearly hyperventilating now. If Ethan brought a girl home, I would leave the condo and never come back.

They finished up and finally left the bathroom, freeing me from my stall. I paused, trying to calm my galloping heart, before walking back out.

When I returned to the table, I told Hunter I wasn’t feeling well (not untrue) and he took me home early. The car ride home with him was quiet, heavy with unspoken words.

Ethan did come home later, and thankfully he was alone. I still made a point to stay in my room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Ryan

We opened the bottle of pinot and turned on the gas fireplace while we waited for our pizza and wings delivery to arrive. Because she was blessed with the metabolism of a teenage boy, Isabelle would probably eat half a pizza and follow it up with a dozen wings. She would still be 115 pounds with a flat stomach when she woke up tomorrow. I’d have hated her for it if not for the fact that she was so awesome.

I was not blessed as such and gained five pounds if I looked at a slice of bread. On my short frame, the line between curvy and stocky was irritatingly thin. But tonight, I was going to bring on the carbs. I planned to eat anything and everything because I was too bummed to care about my figure.

Iz had been reserved all evening, a marked departure from her usually talkative self. Making conversation had been like pulling teeth, so we ate in silence in front of the fire. She sighed as she fiddled with her platinum hair, examining it for split ends as she often did when she was nervous.

I curled up on the couch with a soft throw, grateful to escape from the tension that haunted my living situation, but also concerned by Isabelle’s odd behavior.

“What’s going on, Iz? You’ve been so quiet. Something up with Axel?” I asked.

“No, things are good with Axel. But when he stopped by before you came over, he told me something that I think you should know. Though he would kill me if he knew I was telling you this,” she began, hyper-focused on an offending strand of hair. Then she hesitated for a moment as if deciding whether to say. I was dying to hear what this was about.

“What? That Ethan has multiple personalities?” I snorted as I took a sip of wine from one of her stemless glasses. “I am well aware.”

“No.” She paused, now fidgeting with a silver cushion tassel instead of her hair. A sense of dread filled me as I realized this was bad news. Did Ethan have a new girlfriend? Please, don’t let that be it.

“The reason he is the way he is. I guess, back when he dated Alexis, it was a bad scene,” she said carefully.

No surprise there; she seemed like a living nightmare to deal with in any capacity. I could only imagine what she’d be like as a girlfriend. I nodded impatiently.

“Okay. That was a year ago. What does that have to do with anything now?”

“No, Ry, really bad. Per Axel, there was a lot of drama. They fought constantly. Ethan’s grades tanked. His performance on the ice suffered,” she explained, adding, “and the reason that he’s so focused on hockey now is that he’s still trying to redeem himself. He was nearly stripped of his captaincy last season.”

Whoa. Hockey was everything to Ethan. And he was a machine. He ate, drank, and breathed hockey. By far, he was the most dedicated person that I knew. Something would have to go seriously wrong before he would let it get in his head like that.

“That seems so unlike him,” I said.

A confusing mixture of jealousy and protectiveness washed over me. Even though it was in the past, it bothered me that Alexis once wielded so much power over him.

“I know, right? But that’s what happens sometimes—when you care about someone who’s bad for you. Word is that she couldn’t handle the constant puck bunnies. It drove her crazy with jealousy. So she played games with his head, trying to make him jealous too.”

This didn’t sound like a big surprise to me. It wasn’t awesome, but I didn’t see the huge, life-derailing deal.

She paused and cringed. “Apparently, it all came to a head when he came home and found her in bed with Hunter. At the time, he was Ethan’s roommate.”

As the words left her mouth, the entire room tipped sideways. Why hadn’t anyone told me this before? Why didn’t Ethan tell me? I knew he hated Hunter, but I hadn’t known that it was totally and completely justified.

“Oh my god, Iz. Are you serious? Why wouldn’t Ethan have told me about that?”

“I’m not sure. Axel said it’s a sore subject for him. He never talks about it. Ever. Maybe, in a weird way, he feels embarrassed.” I could only assume it was a stupid male-pride thing. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I never would have encouraged you to go out with him if I’d known.”

It dawned on me that any moral high ground I thought I had over Alexis was long gone. Essentially, I was doing the same thing she had: spending time with Hunter to get back at Ethan.

Well, my intentions were slightly different—I wasn’t trying to deliberately hurt Ethan, but I was trying to distract myself from him.

And was Hunter really the type of person who would do something like that? Once again, my judgment had failed me in the dating arena. I was zero-for-two on that front.

Isabelle’s revelation left me reeling for the rest of the evening. I’d been devastated when I found out that Levi cheated on me. If he’d been hooking up with Isabelle, I think I would have had a complete, lock-me-in-an-institution-worthy nervous breakdown. Finally, I realized why Ethan had so many walls up; being betrayed by two people close to you must be unspeakably painful.

All along, I had no idea what was behind the bad blood between him and Hunter—and there I was, right in the thick of it. Just perfect.

No wonder things had been so strained between us. Ethan probably hated me. Talk about fraternizing with the enemy. If there ever was a chance for the two of us, I was sure I’d destroyed it.

***

“Okay, Ryan. What’s up? You’ve been weird all night,” Hunter said, trying to get me to look him in the eye as we sat at a booth.

It was the third time we had gone out and I’d been distant the entire evening. We made the plans before Isabelle’s big reveal and now, I really wasn’t feeling it. I probably should have canceled altogether rather than going through the motions.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d told me. Hunter was many things—a little cocky, a little too fond of himself, a little too quick to give other girls the once-over—but what she told me was beyond the pale. I didn’t want to be confrontational, but I also wanted to understand his side of the story.

“It’s just that something I heard is bothering me,” I started, hesitantly.

He frowned. “What is it? You can tell me.”

I took a breath. “I heard that you slept with Alexis back when Ethan and Alexis were together. And that you were Ethan’s roommate at the time. Is that true?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, they sounded wrong. Maybe this wasn’t my business. Immediately, I backpedaled and said, “You know what, it’s not my place to even ask that. Never mind.”

Hunter rubbed his forehead with his hand. He paused for a minute and looked out the window beside our booth before responding.

“No, it’s okay. It is true. It was a shitty thing to do and I’m embarrassed that I did it. I’ve apologized to Ethan, but I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me. I don’t blame him, either.”

I was surprised to hear Hunter own up to it so readily. He seemed uncharacteristically humble. I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded sympathetically.

“I had a crush on Alexis way before she and Ethan ever dated. It doesn’t justify anything; I’m just trying to tell you where my head was at. I was completely head over heels for her.” He paused and took a breath. “She started using me to make Ethan jealous and I guess I was just too weak to say no. She promised me that she was going to break up with him for me. But she never did. Then it all blew up in my face. I was a total sucker, and it cost me a friendship.”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me at this point, but it did—Alexis really was the worst. And her refusal to let Ethan move on with his life in peace was especially egregious now that I knew the whole story.

I couldn’t excuse Hunter’s role in what happened, but at least his actions hadn’t come from a malicious place. Beneath his cocky exterior, he was a decent enough guy, and, unlike Alexis, he seemed to be remorseful. Truly, I didn’t think what he did to Ethan necessarily defined who he was as a person. Though I also understood why Ethan disagreed.

Unsure of what to do, I tried to ease the tension. “It’s in the past now. I appreciate you being honest with me about it. Let’s just change the subject, all right?”

“Ryan—it’s okay. I can tell that your heart is in another place,” he said gently. “I was hoping that it might just be a passing thing but now, I can tell that it’s not.”

He was right, but I still felt guilty about it. I had tried to force myself into liking him, tried to sell myself on him. As if it was something I could just choose to do. If it was possible, it certainly would’ve been the easier route.

I sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just that I sort of thought I could just make myself to move on. But I guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“Don’t I know it. It’s embarrassing to admit how long it took me to get over Alexis,” he said with a chuckle.

He hesitated briefly and added, “For what it’s worth—and maybe it’s weird for me to even go there—but I think Ethan is into you, too. We used to be friends; I know him, and I can tell. I don’t know what his hold up is.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Ethan

The referee’s whistle screeched, snapping me out of a daze. I was standing in front of my team’s net and I had no idea what just happened. I’d forgotten I was even in the game.

As the blare of the buzzer followed, I realized that the other team just scored a goal—right in front of my face. I had been so zoned out that I didn’t see it, which was alarming. Shaken, I skated off to the side for a line change. Coach Jackson was waiting for me.

“Russell!” He barked. “What the hell was that? Did you even see the puck? Remember the puck, that round black thing you’re supposed to be chasing around and shooting into the net?”

In truth, I hadn’t. I was so consumed with thoughts of Ryan that my head hadn’t been in the game the entire period. It showed.

“Sorry, Coach,” I said.

“Take five and get yourself together,” he ordered.

Obediently, I sat down on the bench, grabbing my water bottle from the side. I had just been placed in an unofficial timeout. Now, my teammates would be forced to take on extra ice time because of me.

Snap out of it, I chided myself.

I didn’t have it in me to relive what happened last year. Coach sure as hell wouldn’t put up with it either. Any major slips and I would be off the team; no chances, no questions, no excuses.

And I already felt myself slipping.

I was going in circles. I couldn’t date because I needed to focus on hockey; I couldn’t focus on hockey because of Ryan; I couldn’t date Ryan because I needed to focus on hockey. It was like trying to untangle a ball of impossible knots.

One giant clusterfuck.

I tried to shelve it for the time being and skated back onto the ice after my five minutes ended, making a conscious effort to stay present for the remainder of the game.

The results were mixed: I didn’t zone out, but my performance wasn’t stellar. It had been several games since I had scored or had an assist.

After I showered and changed, I walked out of the locker room to find Coach Jackson waiting for me. My stomach sank. I was dismayed but not surprised. I just hoped this wasn’t the end of my varsity hockey career.

He motioned for me to join him in his office across the hall. Head down, I complied, dropping into the brown leather chair across from his desk. Crossing an ankle over my knee, I squared my shoulders and looked him in the eye.

Coach cleared his throat and scrutinized me. I felt like a kid at the principal’s office.

“What day is it, Ethan?” His voice was eerily calm. I think I’d have preferred yelling.

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

His tone took on a steely edge. “I said, what day is it?”

“February third?”

“Good. You haven’t completely lost your marbles. It just seems like it.”

I stared at him blankly, holding my tongue. The only responses I could think of verged on insolent, which wouldn’t help my cause.

“What’s going on with you?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. “There’s been a real decline in your performance over the past few months. You went from my star player to acting like a third- or fourth-line forward. Frankly, it’s disappointing.”

I swallowed hard. Honesty was usually the best policy with Coach, but not in this case; telling him about Ryan, Hunter, and the soap opera that had become my personal life would just reflect poorly on me, and it would make it seem like I wasn’t ready to handle the pressures of playing pro hockey. Grasping for an alternate explanation, I faltered.

“I… it’s just…”

“It would be one thing if that’s all you were capable of. But you have been playing far below your potential. You know it, I know it, the team knows it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And as for Hunter,” he continued, “I know that you two have had your differences; whatever happened to cause that is not my concern. But lately, it’s bleeding into your gameplay and affecting the rest of the team.”

Shit.

He hadn’t even said that last year, when things first imploded with Alexis. When I found one of my best friends in bed with my girlfriend. When I went on a month-long bender and slept with a different girl almost every night. When he nearly kicked me off the team.

If I hid my hate for Hunter back then better than I was right now, I was truly losing my cool. Thinking about him with Ryan was driving me crazy. Literally.

At a loss for words, I stared at the floor. It was difficult to explain or justify my issue with Hunter. Objectively, he was a solid player. Even though I was loath to admit it, he was an asset to the team.

“I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you off the ice, but it stays off the ice. Are we clear?” I wanted to ask if he was telling Hunter that, too, but as captain, I knew I was held to a higher standard.

“Yes, Coach. It won’t be an issue again,” I assured him.

“And Ethan: get it together out there. Your head is somewhere else lately. Go deal with whatever it is that is eating at you—I don’t know if it’s a girl, family, school, or what. But you need to resolve it so that you can focus on your game.”

After I apologized for a second time, he dismissed me with a frown. I was on thin ice. Again.

I made my way across campus, walking slowly to delay my arrival home. It was cold for early February, but I was so lost in thought that I barely noticed.

Something had to give, but that was easier said than done. I knew I had to handle it. But I still didn’t know how.

As I crunched through the snow, I weighed my options.

Obviously, walking away was the safer choice. Keep the blinders on and just keep going. I would be protecting myself emotionally and I would be able to give a hundred percent of myself to the game again.

Or would I? When I imagined life without Ryan, my gut lurched. It just felt wrong.

Something would be missing, something that I hadn’t even realized I needed until I met her.

But Ryan was with Hunter, anyway. And seeing them together made me want to put my fist through a wall. Or his face. Preferably the latter.

Not that I could blame her; I hadn’t been emotionally available. It was understandable that she might want to date someone else. I just wished it wasn’t him. Actually, that was a total lie. I didn’t want to see her with anyone else. Too late now, though. She already was.

I was still stuck inside my head when my text notification went off; it was Geoff asking me to meet for drinks. I hadn’t eaten yet and I definitely didn’t feel like going home, so I agreed and changed course for the campus pub.

When I walked in, Smith and Axel were also there. All three of them turned as I approached, watching me closely. I sensed that I might be walking into some kind of intervention. A friendtervention. But it wasn’t clear whether it would be Ryan- or hockey-related.

“Hey, buddy. How are you doing?” Smith asked carefully. He was talking to me slowly, like I was a young child.

I wondered if they’d rehearsed this. Did they prepare a script, too?

“Fine,” I said warily, pulling out a chair. “What’s this about?”

“You know, we’re all a little worried about you, that’s all,” Axel interjected.

I’d hit rock bottom. I loved the guy, but Axel was the least emotionally in-tune person that I knew. If Axel thought I had a problem, I definitely had a problem.

“Yeah,” Geoff agreed. “You seem a little off your game lately. Is everything all right?”

“No need to worry about me, guys. Everything is cool,” I insisted.

I was hoping the conversation would remain on my recent shitty hockey performance rather than the alternative. I did not want to have a sharing circle with my friends where we all held hands and talked about our feelings.

Smith shot me a skeptical look. He was the most perceptive of the bunch, and he wasn’t buying it. Dammit.

“Really? How are things with Ryan lately? Because I hear they’re not all that cool,” he said gently.

I busied myself with studying the beer menu; it only had four choices. They had me cornered.

Geoff sighed and shot me a look. “Dude. It seems to be obvious to pretty much everyone but you that this isn’t even about sex anymore. It’s become way more than that. Can’t you just admit that to yourself?”

I’d fought it for ages, but he was right. It went far beyond just physical attraction. I had feelings for her. Real feelings. Big feelings. Feelings I hadn’t had even with Alexis. And that was what scared me most of all.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled.

“Lies!” Axel banged his fist against table dramatically. He looked around the pub self-consciously, then gave me a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I always wanted to do that, like they do in movies. Anyway, I still think you’re full of shit.”

“I don’t know, guys.” I shrugged. “Maybe there’s some truth to what you’re saying, but I don’t know if I have it in me to go there right now.”

“Ethan. Ryan is not Alexis. You must realize that by now,” Smith chastised me.

“I know, but still,” I muttered. My life fell to pieces last time I did the whole relationship thing.

“It seems to me you already are doing the whole relationship thing, minus all the fun parts,” Axel said. The other two nodded grimly.

He had a point.

And when I looked back, my hockey performance had been just fine—great, even—when Ryan and I were close; it was when I freaked out and pulled away that my game really started to suffer.

Then a painful realization hit me.

I was the cause of my own undoing. Not her.

Fuck.

The waitress returned with our drinks, giving me a brief, but blessed, reprieve. I ordered another beer as she set mine down.

Smith closed his eyes, inhaling deeply for a moment and rubbing his forehead as though he was channeling his patience.

Then he said, “Let me get this straight. You’re going to let a horrible person who abused your trust prevent you from trusting a great person who deserves your trust. Thereby enabling Alexis to continue to ruin your life from afar. Solid logic, bro.”

It was hard to argue with that. All this time, I thought I was protecting myself; and maybe for a time, I was. I hadn’t missed out on anything by steering clear of the hookup scene. But now I had someone that I really cared about, and I was still running away. It didn’t make a lot of sense.

Before Ryan moved in, if someone had asked me what I wanted, the answer would have been simple: to play hockey. Six months later, the answer was entirely different: I wanted her.

I wanted an us.

There was, of course, another issue—Hunter. It was too late.

“This is all moot anyway, you guys. She’s seeing Hunter, remember? I am definitely not getting in the middle of that.” I shook my head, taking a generous slug of beer.

“No, she’s not. Didn’t you hear? She dumped him on Wednesday.” Axel cackled. He was one of the only people who disliked Hunter as much as I did.

He also tended to forget that not all of us were privy to his conversations with Isabelle.

“Do you think I heard? Have you seen me on the ice this week? I’ve been garbage. Ryan and I haven’t exactly been having heart-to-hearts lately. A little intel would’ve been nice, Ax.”

“I assumed you knew. Everyone knows. But yeah, that’s dead in the water. I don’t think I need to explain why, do I?” he asked me, raising his eyebrows. “You know I get the inside scoop from Isabelle.”

I didn’t respond. I was beyond relieved to know that things were over between Ryan and Hunter. Truthfully, I was ecstatic.

But I wasn’t convinced Axel was right. I knew what he was getting at, but Ryan hadn’t seemed all that into Hunter to begin with; their breakup may not have had anything to do with me.

Selfishly, I hoped it did.

“It’s pretty obvious how she feels,” Smith said, nodding. “The only thing standing in your way is you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Ryan

It was only eight on a Friday night and I already had my pajamas on, makeup off, hair up. After a long week of classes and avoiding Ethan as much as possible, my plans for the evening consisted of moping in the tub with a good book and, possibly, crying. There would probably be some ice cream involved as well. Okay, a lot of ice cream. Not what most people envisioned as perfect college weekend, but it was all I could muster for the time being.

I had gone with cute pajamas, at least, to make myself feel like less of a shut-in—black satin shorts, a super-soft gray tank, and fuzzy black slippers. But I wasn’t sure who I was trying to impress; I knew Ethan wouldn’t be coming home any time soon. The Bobcats had an early evening game, and I was sure he’d go out with the team after. Or out with, well, whoever. I didn’t know at this point.

Isabelle had invited me to watch the game with her, bless her heart, but I declined. Even I knew that would be a bad idea. Things had been too tense between Ethan and me lately and I didn’t think my presence would do his game any favors. He’d made a point to tell me how it didn’t.

I was halfway through filling the kettle when my phone chimed. Glancing down, I found a text from Ava, asking whether I wanted to join her for some barhopping. For a moment, I considered taking her up on it for the distraction, but I knew that scene would just depress me even more. The last thing I needed was to be crammed into a crowded nightclub, surrounded by random, sweaty people, paying for overpriced drinks. I texted back, thanking her for the invitation but politely declining.

Even if I did go out, I’d still be sad, and it was easier to be sad alone.

I wasn’t sad about Hunter. I’d known in my gut that he wasn’t the one for me. I was more relieved than anything, and happy it ended on an amicable note. One less complication. But the mess with Ethan was eating me alive. I missed him. A lot. Or rather, I missed the way things used to be with him before they fell apart. Now, they were just difficult and upsetting. The ease we used to feel around each other had vanished.

What had happened to us?

I guessed there had never been an us.

While the water in the kettle heated, I rummaged in the freezer for the cookie dough brownie blast ice cream. In a stroke of terrible timing, I heard Ethan enter the key code for the door. Fumbling, I shoved the pint of ice cream back into the freezer and debated whether I had time to sprint upstairs, but there was no way to exit the kitchen without having to cross his path. I was trapped.

Tension coiled in my body as I heard him walk in. I waited for him to continue into his office or go up to his room. No such luck. He came straight for the kitchen and stood awkwardly in the entrance. From the corner of my eye, I could see that he was still dressed in a suit. My kryptonite. Great.

Usually, I could tell whether they had won based on his mood, but not tonight—a different kind of energy radiated from him, one that I couldn’t interpret. The air was thick with tension and the silence was so heavy that I could hardly stand it. I turned away from him, pretending I didn’t notice him come in. Holding my breath, I silently prayed to avoid yet another uncomfortable conversation.

“Can we start over?” His voice was quiet, pleading. “I can’t stand fighting with you.”

I sighed. I couldn’t stand it, either. But I also couldn’t let him toy with my emotions any more than he already had. I was in self-preservation mode. If that meant distancing myself from him, then so be it.

“Okay.” I poured the water over my tea and leaned against the counter to face him. I’d let him talk, but I wasn’t giving him anything first.

Ethan looked down, shifting his weight from side to side uneasily; it was the first time I’d ever seen him look, well, nervous. Even though I was angry with him, a small part of me still thought it was pretty cute.

He ran his hand through his dark hair before looking up. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. For everything. I don’t know how I turned it all into such a tangled mess.”

Something tugged at me when I heard the sadness in his voice. And he was giving me big, woeful, puppy-dog eyes. It was hard to stay mad at him, especially when he looked like that.

I could feel my defenses eroding. But I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

“Okay,” I said again. I wrapped my hands around the mug in an attempt to steady myself. “I accept your apology.” That was a lie, but I didn’t feel like arguing with him. I needed to be done with this conversation so I could go upstairs—before we took a detour into argument territory again.

“That’s it?” He shot me a look of exasperation. “I’m trying here, you know.”

“But you’re not,” I snapped, setting my mug down with a bang, splashing tea all over the concrete counter and burning my hand. So much for staying calm.

Concern washed over Ethan’s face and he frowned, making to step forward and help me. “Are you—”

“I’m fine.” My tone came out sharper than I’d intended, but I wasn’t sure I could handle being that close to him. Turning toward the sink, I adjusted the tap to cool and placed my hand underneath the stream.

Ethan tentatively stepped into the kitchen, wiping up the tea from the counter with a paper towel. Slowly, the pain in my hand started to lessen. I switched off the faucet, patting my skin dry with a clean tea towel.

Then we resumed staring at each other in the pin-drop quiet.

“You just… you frustrate me.” I hung the towel back on the oven and then crossed my arms as if that might help protect my heart. “You frustrate the hell out of me, Ethan. It’s like dealing with a robot. You’re so calm, so collected, so damn in control all of the time.”

“You’re no better than I am, you know that? You say I’m so closed-off—that I don’t open up to you. But you don’t open up to me, either. I don’t know how you feel.”

I snorted. “Yeah, right.” My feelings had been made it painfully clear during that incident in his bedroom.

“I don’t,” he insisted. “Let’s not forget that you were seeing Hunter until recently.” His voice was gruff, but I understood now where it was coming from. Catching himself, he took a breath and shook his head. His shoulders slumped, tone softening. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just have no idea what is going on inside your head.”

I didn’t know how to respond so chewed my bottom lip, remaining silent as I stared at the dark tiles at my feet. Neither of us was willing to make a move, to show our hand or take a leap of faith. Seconds crawled by so slowly that I lost track of time. We stood in the kitchen, locked in stubborn silence, the air so thick with tension that I could barely breathe.

“I miss you,” he said.

Those three words did it. The wall around me began crumble. And he knew it, too.

“Talk to me, Ry,” he begged. “Please talk to me. I’m a mess without you. Tell me what you want from me.”

I glanced up and our gazes locked. His deep-blue eyes scanned my face, questioning, searching for the answers that I was afraid to give him. And as my resolve weakened, it was replaced by something else: fear. Fear that it might be now or never; do or die; speak now, or forever hold your peace. All along, I had just wanted him. I still did. I didn’t want to wonder “what if” anymore. Adrenaline surged through me and the words poured out of me before I could think things through.

“I just want you. I want you to want me. I want you to take me. I want you to do things to me that are anything but in control,” I blurted.

“Like this?” he asked, stepping into my space. One strong hand curled around my lower back while the other gently tilted my jaw up. I breathed in his heavenly, spicy-sweet scent and a familiar sense of want rushed through my body. He cupped my face, and his lips claimed mine as he pressed me against the counter. Lips on lips and skin on skin, everything exploded. This was no tentative, sweet first kiss; this was hungry, insistent, and hot.

All his usual restraint and discipline disappeared in the moment. He was all over me: his hands, his lips, his body against mine. His tongue slipped into my mouth, sliding greedily against mine as he grabbed me around my waist, pushing me harder into the counter. A small sigh escaped my mouth, captured by his kiss.

He tasted like cinnamon and everything I had ever wanted. And from the way he was pressing himself against me, I could tell that I was something he wanted, too.

I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck and marveling at what it was like to touch him. Really touch him. With almost a foot of height and nearly a hundred pounds on me, he felt larger than life up close—crowding me, overwhelming me, finally taking me.

I had fantasized about this more times than I could count. The reality was even better. We lost ourselves in each other for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, we came up for air, short of breath and hearts racing. I hadn’t tried drugs, but I was pretty sure this was what they must feel like. He looked at me, his pupils dilated and gaze intense with desire.

“I do have one small problem with what you said; I like being in control,” he said with a crooked, sexy grin.

I felt like I might combust.

“You can’t control everything,” I replied breathlessly. But I didn’t think I’d fight him too hard on that.

He gently pinned both of my wrists behind my back with one hand while he tilted my chin up with the other, kissing his way down my neck from my ear to my collarbone. I arched my back and sighed in response as the ache for him grew heavier between my legs. A familiar ache, but one that had until now gone unsatisfied.

“You might find you like it when I do,” he said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Ryan

Everything started to move in fast-forward as months and months of craving and desire triggered an avalanche.

Grabbing me by the backs of my thighs, he picked me up like I weighed nothing. A rush ran through my body, taking my breath away. Knowing that he could throw me around was a huge turn-on; and, maybe, a part of me wanted him to throw me around. Just a little. He set me on the kitchen counter, all the while devouring me.

I wrapped my legs around his waist to draw him closer as he pressed against my satin shorts. I wanted his body against my body and nothing else, but we still had on so many layers; too many layers. I tugged off his suit jacket and he threw it aside carelessly. Running my hands over his arms, I got a rush from feeling the muscles that were hidden underneath his dress shirt. I wanted, very badly, to see what he looked like without his shirt on—or anything else, for that matter.

But these layers still had to go. In a frenzy of lust, I helped him pull my tank top over my head. He stopped kissing me to admire the lacy white bra I had on underneath with a hungry grin.

“You are so hot,” he said huskily, biting his lip as he drank the sight in. I felt that familiar flush creep up on me all over again.

He pulled my bra straps down. My skin grew fevered, like I was on fire with lust everywhere he touched me.

We stopped kissing for a moment, our mouths an inch apart. I felt lightheaded from breathing his air.

An unvoiced question hung in the room.

“Ethan,” I said. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Agreed. Forget this kitchen nonsense,” he growled, picking me up and carrying me upstairs, kissing me hungrily the whole way.

When he lay me down on his soft gray duvet, it felt strange to be in his room again. Not wrong, but new. Different than before.

Time stopped momentarily and reality sank in: this was actually happening.

Ethan. Me. Here. In his bed.

Briefly, the fear of being compared to so many other girls darted through my mind. How would I measure up?

Sensing that my brain had gone elsewhere, he propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me.

“You okay, babe?” he asked me, scanning my face with his dark-blue, deep-ocean eyes. I loved those eyes.

“Better than okay. This just became real. That’s all,” I said with a sigh.

His face turned serious as he gently stroked my cheek. The restraint I was used to seeing in him had returned. “You know, we don’t have to keep going. I didn’t mean to get carried away. We can take things slower if you want.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for you to make a move for months now.”

“You have?” He looked at me quizzically. He seemed genuinely surprised. Were all men this oblivious?

“At Thanksgiving. New Year’s. That time on your bed.”

“Seriously?” He groaned, hanging his head. “I was trying to control myself. I’m such an idiot.”

“See, it’s that control thing again. Always getting you into trouble.”

“I’m just glad you were patient with me,” he said, leaning over and kissing me again—gently this time, like he was trying to set me at ease.

Sweetly, pleadingly, he caressed my tongue with his while he ran his hands through my hair. It was somehow relaxing and exciting all at the same time. I sighed and melted into his arms, unbuttoning his shirt.

Objectively, this was probably a bad idea. Potentially, a Very Bad Idea. After all, we lived together.

But it didn’t feel like a bad idea. It felt like pieces falling into place. Like something that had been inevitable all along.

I was in it for real now. This could get complicated. And I didn’t care.

***

Ethan

After, I lay wrapped around her, spooning her. I ran my fingers up and down her arm, giving her goosebumps. She sighed. I was the happiest I’d ever been.

I shifted to look at her and I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. Hot, always, but in this moment, she took my breath away.

“You know,” she said, “that first time was the first time anyone else ever gave me an orgasm.”

“Really?” I said. “First of many, I’ll make sure of that.”

“Mmm , I’ll hold you to that,” she said, rolling over to face me with a sexy grin.

“But wait—you didn’t say it was the first one you’d ever had.” Putting two and two together, I groaned. “Are you trying to kill me?”

She laughed. “Nah, I think I like you too much for that. Though I can’t say I didn’t feel like it a few times.” Her expression turned serious and she added, hesitantly, “You’re not going to freak out and start avoiding me again, are you?”

An intense wave of guilt surged through me. I would never. Never, ever, ever.

“No. God, no. I hate that you think you even need to ask that,” I said, frowning. It felt awful that this even crossed her mind. I had been such an idiot.

“All along, I’ve just wanted you. But I kept denying it. I know it doesn’t make much sense. I guess I was just afraid. Because the feelings that I have for you are big and I had some stuff I needed to work out.”

She nodded, but her expression was still uneasy, brows knit together.

“I’ve come to my senses now. You’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere,” I promised, squeezing her. I felt her body relax as she nestled her head in the crook of my shoulder.

“Good. I’m not either. Well, I might have to get out of this bed someday. But I’ll come back,” she said, yawning.

We fell asleep that way, limbs tangled together.

***

Ryan

I woke up to the sun peeking through the blinds and Ethan facing me, still sound asleep with his arm draped over me. I was in his bed again, but this time we were both naked. I definitely preferred it this way.

He looked so peaceful, snoring away lightly. I drank in the sight of him, his strong nose, thick brows, full lips.

Everything came rushing back to me. This time, it wasn’t just a dream. It was so much better. But what did it all mean?

I’d never just jumped into bed with someone like that before. My ex had waited months before I had sex with him. And when it finally happened, it had been a big deal. But Ethan was no stranger to bedding people quickly. Sure, he hadn’t done it in a while but how did I know that this really was any different? Maybe he’d gotten carried away in the moment. I sure had.

I tried to wriggle out of bed without disturbing him, but he woke with a start. He looked adorable with his rich brown hair in disarray. Sex hair and bedhead—double whammy. My hair probably looked even crazier.

“Hey,” he said with a sleepy smile, grabbing hold of my hand. “Going somewhere?”

My clothes were nowhere to be found in here. In fact, my tank top was still downstairs in the kitchen. How was I going to make it to my room? I wasn’t one to parade around naked.

Feeling exposed, I grabbed the corner of the covers to hide behind as I stood in front of him.

“I just needed a drink.” And to brush my teeth, secretly do my makeup, and fix my hair. Morning Ryan wasn’t pretty. She probably didn’t have good breath, either.

He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. “I have to get up and meet Geoff at the gym soon anyway. Stay here with me for another minute,” he cajoled, turning on the cute pouty face as he gently tugged on my hand.

I slid back into bed, facing him. Facing his gorgeous, completely bare body. I was surprised to find that my thoughts were wandering into X-rated territory again.

“That’s better. Morning, beautiful,” he said, looking into my eyes as he stroked my face gently.

I melted on the spot. “Morning,” I whispered.

He leaned in and kissed me, brushing his lips against mine. I was barely awake and already, I was getting turned on. Except, I still hadn’t brushed my teeth. Eek.

“I probably have the worst morning breath right now,” I said sheepishly.

“No way. I’d take you right here and now if I thought we had the time. But I have to be at the gym in half an hour,” he said with a sigh. “And then I have practice later this afternoon. Stupid responsibilities, getting in the way of all the fun.”

“Rain check, then?”

“You know it,” he growled, leaning in to kiss my neck—softly at first, then giving it a gentle bite. Not so much that it hurt, just enough pressure to feel teeth. And just enough pressure for it to feel really, really good.

Desire surged through me again. From now on, it was going to be nearly impossible to accomplish much of anything when he was home.

“You’re mine later,” he added, giving me a wolfish grin.

“Okay,” I breathed. But I’d been his all along; he just hadn’t realized it yet.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Ryan

Ryan: omg omg omg

Isabelle: what’s up?

Ryan: Um...

Isabelle: Tell me!

Ryan: I can’t even. I’m still in shock.

Isabelle: TELL ME, woman.

Ryan: Ethan and I...

Isabelle: What!

Ryan: Twice *monkey hiding eyes

Isabelle: FINALLY *confetti

Ryan: He just left for the gym. Want to come by?

Isabelle: Bringing coffee. I want details. ALL of the details.

Twenty-two minutes later, the buzzer sounded while I was getting dressed. Then it chimed again. And again. And again. An insistent banging on the door started as I made my way to the living room.

“Hi, Iz,” I said as I opened the door.

She must have snuck through the lobby doors with someone. I should probably just give her the code; I knew Ethan wouldn’t mind. I was kind of surprised Axel hadn’t told it to her already anyway.

Iz sped past me into the living room, takeout tray in hand. Plopping down into the couch, she crossed her legs and turned to face me. She was completely bare-faced and clothed in athleisure wear; she never left the house like that unless she was going to the gym.

Or, I guessed, unless there was an emergency post-sex debriefing to attend.

“Okay,” she said breathlessly, handing me my English breakfast tea and grabbing her vanilla latte. I wasn’t sure how she managed to hit Starbucks and make it over here in such a short length of time. Then again, I knew how she drove.

“Tell me everything. Go.”

“It just sort of happened. He came home last night after the game, he apologized, and things went from there.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Things?”

Not as comfortable as she was talking about sex, I started to feel my face heat. “You know…”

“Was it amazing?” she squealed, nearly spilling her latte in excitement.

“Yes. Totally amazing,” I said, which was as much detail as I could stomach sharing. “So much better than anything with Levi.”

And that was it—I’d hit my limit. Ethan might have been uncomfortable talking about feelings, but I was hugely uncomfortable talking about sex. I sensed it was something I’d have to work on overcoming if I was with him; I had a feeling he was more... sexually open than me. I guess we both had our hang-ups.

Isabelle, on the other hand, would give me a full play-by-play down to the sexual positions listed in chronological order, if I let her. I usually didn’t. Sometimes she did anyway. I knew more about Axel’s proclivities than I wanted to.

“Ryan! That’s awesome. I am so happy for you guys. He must have finally come to his senses.”

“I guess. Took him long enough,” I laughed, but I meant it.

“So, did you guys talk about it after?”

“Not really,” I admitted, taking a sip of my tea. “And then he had to go out this morning to meet Geoff at the gym.”

“It’s just semantics at this point anyway. I know how crazy he is about you.”

“Really?” I was still feeling insecure. We basically just jumped into bed together, skipping all the steps in between. Even though it was Ethan, part of me felt weird about how impulsively I’d acted.

She nodded. “Yep. Axel said they met up with him last night and that was the gist of what they discussed. They all told him to pull his head out of his ass, basically.”

I thought I might love them all a little bit more for that, if true.

“It worked. Let’s hope it sticks.”

Later, maybe, we could talk and maybe define things. I thought I had an idea of where we stood, but I wanted to know for sure. Right now, I was feeling crazy vulnerable.

“I’m sure it will,” she said. “And now we can go on real, official double dates. How about Thursday?”

I laughed. “We haven’t even had the talk yet. But let’s say it’s a tentative yes.”

***

Ethan

I left the condo on a dopamine high and floated to the gym for a workout with Geoff. My head was clearer than it had been in months. I felt invincible. It wasn’t even about the sex . . . but that part didn’t hurt, either. It happened. It was a leap of faith, but it felt right.

Maybe I would be able to focus on hockey again. God, hopefully. It would be nice if it meant that I could stop embarrassing myself on the ice.

When I walked into the locker room, Geoff took one look at me and realization dawned on his face.

He laughed. “I told you it would happen. .”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” I walked over to my locker and took off my T-shirt, changing into my workout gear. Busted. I’d seen all of one person and they already knew.

Was I really that obvious?

He smirked. “Please, E. You are walking around with a ridiculous smile plastered across your face. You’re positively giddy. And there’s only one possible explanation for that.”

Apparently, I was.

It wasn’t that I wanted to hide what had happened with Ryan; I just wanted some time for things between us to settle before everyone found out. We hadn’t really discussed anything yet, at least not outside of the bedroom. I didn’t want to fuel a bunch of speculation or spark rumors before I even knew what we were.

“Okay, fine,” I admitted. “You were right. But let’s just keep it on the down low for now, okay? I’m not sure what it means yet. It’s still new.”

“Of course, buddy. Congrats, though. That was a long time coming.”

Didn’t I know it.

After the gym, Geoff and I grabbed lunch and I headed to the library to study as per usual. I was sorely tempted to go home instead to see if I could catch Ryan before practice, but I didn’t want to move too quickly with her off the bat. Then again, we’d already had sex.

While I was in the middle of editing my business strategy term paper, someone approached my table and stood in front of it. I looked up, expecting it to be somebody that I knew, but it was a stranger. A pretty stranger, actually, but I had no idea who she was.

“Hey.” She smiled shyly. “Keltie. We matched on Tinder.”

Who in the what now?

“Pardon me?” I asked.

“You know, yesterday. I remember it because I knew you were the captain of the hockey team.”

I wasn’t on Tinder. I had never been on Tinder. In fact, Tinder was the antithesis of anything I did, online or off.

I frowned. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Is there any way you could pull it up right now and show me?”

She gave me a weird look. “Sure, I mean, I know it was you.”

“Oh, I believe that it was my picture. But it isn’t my account. I have a girlfriend,” I explained. Was Ryan my girlfriend? Now was not the time to solve that riddle. “I’ve never been on there. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with Tinder.”

She pulled out her phone and started scrolling through. “Here,” she said, handing it to me.

And there it was—my picture, with the headline:

Ethan, 22. Hockey god looking to hook up.

You’ve got to be kidding me. If I were to have a Tinder profile, that’s the last thing in the world that I would ever write.

I knew who would, though. It was an picture from last year. Frustration started to simmer in my veins again. I was so tired of this shit.

“Yeah, that’s not me. Sorry. I think someone is playing a practical joke,” I explained to Keltie.

She started to turn red, clearly embarrassed. Now I just felt bad for her. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled, spinning on her heel and briskly walking away.

Alexis. This cloak-and-dagger shtick was getting old. Always collateral damage.

After Keltie left, I reported the fake profile on Tinder. They emailed me back in an hour to say it had been done, but I wondered if another one would just go up in his place. Not like I’d really have a way of knowing.

What a buzzkill for an otherwise great day. I didn’t feel like telling the guys about this development. And I didn’t know whether I should tell Ryan; this wasn’t what I needed when things with her were brand new. Even if she believed me, which I hoped she would, the stress and drama of this would take the wind out of our sails.

I remembered what I threatened to do if Alexis got involved again. It was tempting, but I didn’t know if I wanted to follow through. To bring up that time in my life and thrust it into the spotlight wasn’t appealing—even if she did deserve for everyone to know.

Packing up my things, I decided to sit on the information for a while. Practice itself was stellar—ten out of ten. My focus returned and despite little sleep, so did my speed. It was like everything just clicked. Too bad it wasn’t a game day.

Halfway through, Coach Jackson blew the whistle for a break and I skated off to the side for my water bottle.

Axel made a beeline for me, spraying me with a wash of ice as he came to a halt. “So, how are things?”

“Didn’t Isabelle tell you already?”

“She did,” he said with a laugh. “I just wanted to hear it from you. Plus, it’s obvious. You’re playing like you either just downed five energy drinks or finally got laid for the first time in a year.”

Why was everyone else so invested in my sex life? Especially Axel—we already knew that he was having frequent, and varied, sex. He wouldn’t let us forget it.

“Fine, we hooked up. But it’s still a little up in the air. Still need to discuss things.”

I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to keep including that disclaimer to everyone. I was fairly certain she wouldn’t change her mind.

“About goddamn time. Now, don’t screw it up. She’s a keeper,” he said with a grin before skating away.

A year ago, I would have bet a million dollars that those words would never come out of his mouth.

***

“Hey, you,” I said with a yawn as Ryan walked through the door carrying groceries.

It was no surprise that I was exhausted—we didn’t get much sleep last night. And after that, I worked my butt off all day at the gym and practice. The stress of the Tinder debacle hasn’t helped. I was still on the fence about if and when to tell her about that.

“Hi,” she replied, and I smiled as a little thrill ran through me at the sight of her.

She opened the reusable shopping bag and started to put the food in the fridge. “How was practice?”

“Good. Great, actually. Best one in months,” I said. Guess she wasn’t so bad for my game after all. “Do you want some help?”

I was planted on the couch with an ice pack on my shoulder; the injury from a few months ago still bothered me sometimes. Especially after overdoing it which, admittedly, I probably did today on my adrenaline high.

“No, I just grabbed a few things—milk, apples, bread. I’m almost done. You don’t need to get up,” she told me as she put the last few items in the pantry. “By the way, what do you want for dinner? Steak?”

“You,” I said. “Come over here.”

She started to sit down beside me, but I set down the ice pack and pulled her onto my lap instead. I wasn’t tired anymore.

Instantly, her scent enveloped me. It wasn’t her perfume, it was just her. Completely unique.

I gave her a kiss on the cheek and nuzzled up against her, inhaling deeply. We snuggled for a minute without speaking. It was bliss.

“So about last night,” I said. “What did it mean to you?”

“Don’t play me like that,” she said, turning to look me in the eye. “You already know how I feel. I’m the one who put it all out there first last night. It’s your turn.”

I knew she was right.

“Fair enough.” I looked away for a minute before meeting her eyes again. I could do this. I could talk feelings. Sort of. “I want to be with you. And only you, of course. If you’ll have me.”

Those were words I’d waited a long time to say.

“I think I could live with that,” she said with a smile.

But there was one thing we hadn’t discussed: the fact that we already lived together. It was like our relationship had been put into warp speed. Strangely, I was okay with it.

It was like she read my mind because a moment later, she said, “Except about the whole roommate thing. Is it weird to date while we’re living together?”

I shrugged. “Not to me. In fact, I think it just got a whole lot more fun.”

“You make a good point.”

There was a comfortable, cozy silence as we both fell quiet again.

“I hope you know how much you mean to me,” I sighed, hugging her against me.

“I think I’m starting to get an idea.”

It was scary, exciting, and wonderful all at once, being with her. In time, maybe that first part would go away.

I paused and then murmured, “Then you should also know that you have me. All of me. So. please don’t break me, okay?”

“I never would,” she told me, stroking my arm.

“Now about that rain check,” I murmured, wrapping my hands around her waist and kissing her the way I’d been wanting to all day.

As our lips crashed together, everything else disappeared. From there, our clothes practically took themselves off.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Ryan

I was in the middle of pathophysiology, engrossed in the lecture, when my cell phone vibrated. Expecting it to be Ethan, I checked it quickly only to see that it was my mother.

Mom: Ryan, can you call me when you have a minute?

Ryan: Sure. But if this is about the bridesmaids’ dresses, we can do teal instead of seafoam. They’re both nice. Go with whichever you like best.

Mom: No, not about that. I think you were right, anyway, the seafoam will be prettier on the beach.

Ryan: Is everything okay? Now you have me a little worried.

Mom: Yes, just wait till you’re home and give me a call. Need to ask you something.

Ask me something? Like maybe, are you sleeping with that male roommate that I was nervous about you having in the first place?

Maybe someone else connected the dots and alerted her. I did have my aunt listed as a friend on Facebook.

It didn’t help that she said to wait until I was home to call her. It sounded serious. Was I about to have the most uncomfortable discussion with my mother of my entire life? Would she be angry? Disappointed? Disown me? Okay, probably not the last one, but she would probably be unhappy.

When I got home later in the afternoon, Ethan was still in class. I did not want to face whatever it was that awaited discussion. Instead, I tidied up, unloaded the dishwasher, put a load of towels into the washing machine, and procrastinated in various ways. I even dusted the fireplace mantel and scrubbed the toilets.

The entire time, fear of the unknown lurked in my mind. Finally, it became too much to ignore. I couldn’t avoid it forever. I needed to get this phone call over with.

Nervously, I unlocked my phone and selected her name from my list of favorites. It started to ring, and for the first time ever, I hoped that she wouldn’t answer my call.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said after two rings.

“Hey, Mom. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m good. Just busy with the wedding details. You know how it is.” She paused. It was only for about a second, but it felt like an hour. “The reason that I wanted to talk to you was that your father got in touch with me recently.”

My stomach sank.

At least she wasn’t asking about Ethan—though, eventually I was going to have to sort out that mess before I introduced them—but this might actually be worse.

“And what did he want?”

“He wanted to know if it was okay to get in touch with you and to maybe arrange a meeting for coffee or something. I think he’s living within a few hours’ drive of your school. But I told him I needed to clear it with you first. What do you think?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“If you’re open to it, maybe email would be best so that you feel less put on the spot. It might be nice if the two of you could connect. But it’s up to you, honey. You don’t have to talk to him at all.”

“Why now? Where has he been for the last twenty-one years?”

She sighed. “He was young. I was, too. But some people are younger emotionally than others, especially as young adults. He just wasn’t ready to be a father, and I didn’t want him running in and out of your life constantly. We both decided it was for the best this way.”

Glad they made that decision for me. Thanks, guys.

“It has been a long time, though, and people change. People mature. It could be a positive thing for you to meet him and learn about that side of your family,” she added.

You mean, learn about that half of my genetic contribution. Because he sure as hell isn’t my family.

“Can I think about it?” I asked her. “I time to decide.”

“Sure. Don’t feel like there’s a right or wrong answer. You need to do what is right for you.”

Right. Exactly. If only I knew what that was.

“Okay. Thanks, Mom. I’ll let you know.”

My dad wanted to meet me. My dad. I didn’t know how I feel about that.

Part of me was curious. The other part wondered, Where the hell have you been? And why do you think you deserve to walk into my life now?

How peachy for him that my mom had been willing and able to shoulder the burden entirely on her own. Great that he just got to walk away, scot-free, like nothing had ever happened. Like I had never happened.

My gut reaction was to say no. I’d gotten this far without him. I didn’t see the need to open up that Pandora’s box.

Ethan was no stranger to strained paternal relationships. When he got home, I filled him in and asked for his opinion, fully expecting him to be on my side.

I sat at the kitchen island, finishing off my cereal-for-dinner. “I should just say no, right?”

“I don’t know, babe.” Ethan shrugged, giving me a sympathetic look. “Maybe you should give him a chance.”

“But why? He abandoned us and never looked back.”

“And it’s possible he regrets that now. Aren’t you a little curious about his side of your family? If you have any other siblings? What he’s like?”

I stared at him. Being an only child was so firmly entrenched in my identity that it had never occurred to me that I could have siblings. I wondered if I did and, if so, what they were like.

“Look, Ry. I’m not in your shoes and I can’t tell you what to do. But it’s one meeting for coffee. How bad can it be? If you don’t mesh, you don’t have to establish a relationship with him.”

“Okay. Maybe you’re right. Will you come with me?”

“Of course I will, if you want me to.”

With trembling hands, I composed a text to my mom, letting her know that she could give my father my email address. I quickly hit send before I could change my mind.

“Ethan, it’s your birthday next weekend,” I said as I set my phone back down. I had realized it earlier while writing the date on an assignment.

A new source of anxiety set in; I had absolutely no idea what to get him. I exhausted my one and only idea at Christmas. There had to be something besides more hockey memorabilia. Maybe Axel had an idea.

“So it is. It sure snuck up on me this year. I guess my I’ve been occupied with other things,” he said with a wink.

“Why don’t we have a party here? You know, like the good old times—only minus the awkward sexual tension,” I suggested.

He chuckled. “Hey, it wasn’t all bad. Sometimes that sexual tension was kind of fun.”

“Sometimes. But I think being able to act on it now is even better.”

“Is that a hint?” he asked, coming up behind me and kissing my neck. It wasn’t, but now I wished that it was.

“Maybe for later,” I said, checking the time on the stove. “But right now, I have to get to the hospital, unfortunately. And you’ll be asleep when I get back.”

“I could wait up.”

“Wouldn’t recommend it.” I leaned against him, wishing I didn’t have to go. “I’ll be in well past midnight.”

He groaned, still kissing my neck and distracting the hell out of me. “Work, shmirk. We would have a lot more fun if you just stayed home with me.”

“I’m sure we would.” I laughed. “But party, here? Yes? I’ll handle everything.”

“You don’t have to, babe. But I can’t say no to you.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” I said, standing up and giving him a quick kiss goodbye.

As I walked downstairs to the parkade, thoughts about my dad circled through my mind. I wondered if I looked like him; I sure didn’t look much like my mother, with her blond hair and blue eyes. Was he married? Did he like the same things that I did? Maybe he was to blame for my lack of coordination. And maybe, like Ethan said, I even had some half-siblings I didn’t know about. It was too much for me to wrap my mind around.

I decided to shelve it for now and shot Iz a quick text, begging for help with party planning and for gift ideas via Axel. Isabelle loved a good party, and I knew she’d help me pull it all together. I would tell her about my father, but it could wait until our sushi date tomorrow night. Better to focus on something happy for now, anyway.

When she texted me back, it read, “Yay! Party! We can discuss party plans over dinner tomorrow. BTW, did you guys know there’s an account on Tinder with Ethan’s name and picture? Doubt it’s him, but FYI, a girl I know just told me. I was about to text you about it.”

Tinder? What? I sure as hell hoped it wasn’t him.¶

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Ryan

“What’s this I hear about you being on Tinder? Are you bored of me already?” Ryan asked me, eyes drilling into me over her plate of food.

It was Friday night, and we were in the middle of dinner at my favorite Italian place for one of our first official dates. And this was not how I was hoping the evening would go.

I held her gaze, trying to stay calm. How did she hear about that?

“I—I—”

She frowned, studying me. “Did you already know about this?”

“It’s not my profile,” I finally managed to say. “It’s fake, obviously. But I did hear about it the other day. I had it deleted.”

“And why, exactly, did you decide to keep that from me?” she pressed, her face a mixture of hurt and anger.

I took a drink of water, trying to buy myself a minute to think.

“It was right when you and I got together. It just didn’t feel like the right time. I was going to tell you. I just didn’t want to put a damper on things with us when we were still figuring out where we stood.”

She pressed her lips into a line and hummed disapprovingly. Not telling her when I found out was such an epically bad idea.

“You can’t just omit important information like that. You can’t decide for me whether it’s a good time to talk about things.”

She had me there. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

We sat in silence for a few moments. She just stared at the table, refusing to meet my eyes. I shifted in my seat nervously. The longer she stayed quiet, the more I started to worry. I tried to formulate the right thing to say in my head, but I kept drawing a blank.

“Please don’t keep things like this from me, Ethan,” she finally said. “Remember how we talked about you being closed-off? I’ve let you in—a lot. You have to let me in, too. Or this will never work.”

I drew in a deep breath. “I know. You’re right. I’ll try. I am trying, I mean. But I’ll try harder.”

She just nodded distantly, chewing on her lip. “My father emailed me. He wants to meet a week from Wednesday for coffee.”

“Wow. How do you feel about that?” I ask her, reaching out to hold her hand over the table.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “It’s still far away. And now it’s going to loom over my head until it’s here.”

“Still want me to come with you?”

“Not sure about that right now, either.”

My heart sank. I guess I deserved that, though. “The offer still stands.”

For the rest of the evening, she was distant. She was a quieter person in general, but she usually came out of her shell when we were together. Tonight, though, I was getting the more shy Ryan that most other people saw.

When we went to bed, she gave me a half-hearted kiss on the lips before turning the other way to sleep. I guess she didn’t go into her own room to sleep, but it wasn’t much better.

Dammit.

As the week went on, things slowly got better. It helped that I basically groveled for a week straight. I cooked breakfast Saturday and Sunday and cleaned the condo.

We even went to see a chick flick in the theater; generally, I vetoed movies that don’t involve explosions or car chases. But desperate times and all that.

She texted me on Thursday while I was on my way to practice. I took it as a good sign that she was giving me a bit of a hard time and joking around with me again.

Ryan: You know what I just realized? You never kept up your end of the bargain.

Ethan: I always keep my word. Which bargain?

Ryan: I went ice skating but you never tried yoga.

Ethan: Ohhh. That bargain.

Ryan: Time to pay up.

Ethan: What’s... that? Can’t. Hear... you. Must. Be bad... connect...ion.

Ryan: Ethan. We’re texting.

Ethan: Okay, okay. You were a good sport about the skating. I guess it’s my turn.

Ryan: They have a partner workshop coming up at my studio that we could do together.

Ethan: Does that mean we would be touching each other?

Ryan: Yes.

Ethan: Babe, I’m not gonna lie. If we’re in any kind of situation where you’re wearing tight yoga clothes and our bodies are up against each other, I am pretty sure that I will never be allowed back in that yoga studio again. They may even call the police.

Ryan: LOL. I’m flattered. I think. Okay, we’ll try something else.

***

Ethan

That evening, I was sitting on the couch with Ryan stretched out beside me, her legs across my lap as we were watching TV. Out of the blue, she sat up and looked at me.

“Ethan, do you think I should move out?”

My heart stopped for a moment. Say what? Just when I thought things were back on track with us.

And furthermore, we were in the middle of a Netflix binge. How did we go from watching zombie hunters to having a serious relationship discussion?

As well as I knew Ryan, I realized that I would never fully understand women.

I paused the TV. “No. I mean, I don’t want you to. Why, do you want to move out?” I asked her with a frown, hoping she would say no.

Biting her lip, she looked away for a minute. “No. I just wasn’t sure if all of this was too much, too fast. I don’t want you to get bored of me because you see me all the time.”

Ah. So that was what this was about. She worried I would decide I missed the single life, which was the furthest thing from the truth. I knew that was never going to happen; she still wasn’t completely convinced. I always did my best to set her mind at ease, but I figured that time might just be what she needed to finally feel totally secure.

“Babe. I can assure you, I will never, ever get bored of you. Hell, we’re both so busy that I’m not even sure I would even get see you if we didn’t live together. I love coming home to you.”

I almost said I loved her. I wanted to, but the words wouldn’t quite come out.

But I knew I did. I loved her. I was in love with her.

I couldn’t put my finger on when it happened. Now, it just felt like that was the way it had always been.

It had been on the tip of my tongue but I was still scared to take the plunge. There was no reason behind my reluctance; I was fairly sure she felt the same way. And if anyone was my safe harbor, it was her.

I’d overcome a lot of my emotional hang-ups, but some days, I was still a work in progress.

She sighed, running her hand through her silky chestnut hair. “Are you sure? I swear, this is the last time I’ll bring this up.”

“Ryan, I would never have crossed that line if I thought it would result in you moving out. So no, I don’t want you to go. But if you wanted to move out, I would understand,” I said gently, rubbing her back. “Is that what this is about?”

“What? No. Not at all. Plus, this condo is way too nice to leave. I’m spoiled now.” She smirked.

“Good. That was my plan,” I said. Let’s change the subject to something more positive, I thought to myself. “Were you able to switch shifts? I know it’s hard with the party falling on the weekend.”

“I had to call in a few favors to get someone to cover a Friday night shift, but eventually I managed. I’m excited to get all dressed up.” Ryan’s lips curled into a seductive grin.

“Mmm.” I chuckled, low and throaty. “I’m excited to see you all dressed up.””

But suddenly, my thoughts turned to the fact that Hunter would be at the party. That was sure to be uncomfortable. And if he came up to Ryan and tried to flirt with her, I would have a hard time reining in my temper.

“You haven’t talked to Hunter lately, have you?” It slipped out before I could stop myself.

Her brows knit together in confusion. “No, why?”

“I’m just being a ridiculous jealous boyfriend,” I admitted. “I’m just glad there aren’t more exes that I have to deal with.”

“It turns out that living with a six-foot-four hockey enforcer isn’t great for your dating life,” she said with a laugh. “Hunter was the only guy who didn’t flat-out run for the hills.”

That had never occurred to me. Girls hadn’t seemed to care that I lived with Ryan. Though, I hadn’t been interested enough in anyone else to find out for sure.

“Plus,” she said, “I only went out with Hunter because he kept asking, and on some level, I thought it might help me get over you. But it didn’t. I was way too hung up on you and it was like other guys didn’t exist. Uh, I mean, don’t exist,” she added, as I narrowed my eyes.

“Hunter should have run for the hills too,” I grumbled. My jealousy was showing; I didn’t care. I trusted Ryan more than anything in the world, but the thought of her with anyone else, even in the past, still bothered me. I couldn’t help it.

“Whatever, Ethan,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “We went out like two or three times. It wasn’t even a thing.”

“I don’t think he saw it that way,” I countered. Hunter had pursued her aggressively. He’d definitely wanted it to be a thing.

“Nah, I’m sure he was dating other people too. And again, that’s fine, because it wasn’t a thing,” she said, adding, “but either way, it’s over now. Why the axe to grind?”

“It still bothers me when I think of you two together,” I admitted. Just the thought of it made me grit my teeth and want to start throwing things, full-on Neanderthal style.

“Don’t think about it. Nothing happened anyway. We were never ‘together.’ You know, he was never anything but a total gentleman to me.”

I snorted. Gentleman and Hunter were two mutually exclusive concepts. I was on the team and, moreover, I was once his friend; I knew all the stories that Ryan wasn’t privy to. He put pre-Isabelle Axel to shame.

As my thoughts spiraled, I fought back the urge to ask whether “nothing” included kissing. Stop it. She’s here beside you now, with you. That’s all that matters.

“He seemed genuinely remorseful about what happened between you two, E. I’m not saying you should rekindle a friendship but maybe you should consider letting the past go. For your own sake,” she suggested gently, stroking my thigh.

Instantly, my jeans got tighter. Now my mind was going other places, which was exactly what she had intended. She knew there was no way that I could stay grouchy while she was doing that.

At this rate, she would win every argument we had.

“Besides,” she said in my ear as she started to unbutton my jeans, “I think everything worked out for the best, don’t you?”

“You’re not playing fair right now,” I groaned as she undid my zipper. I lifted my hips so she could slide my pants jeans over them.

“I know. Because I need you to know that nothing else—no one else—matters.”

She climbed onto me, straddling me on the couch, and I helped her take my shirt off. Then she stood up, looked me straight in the eye, and took the straps of her black nightgown off one at a time, letting it fall to the ground.

If I hadn’t loved her before, I definitely did now.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Ryan

Of course, Axel and Isabelle were the first to arrive for the party. They came armed with a lot of booze. Vodka, rum, whiskey, tequila, and the requisite beer.

“Happy birthday, E. You’re getting old,” Axel said with a smirk. “Ready for the tournament next weekend?” he asked, setting up a bar on the kitchen counter, a huge stack of solo cups and bottles upon bottles of liquor in front of him.

How many people were we expecting tonight, anyway? I’d let Axel handle the invitation list, and now I was second-guessing that decision. I’d forgotten who I was dealing with.

“You know it. You better bring your A-game. The offensive lines run deep for most of those teams,” Ethan told him.

“Please,” he said. “They’ll barely be able to get in our zone, let alone score. But you’ve been scoring quite a bit lately, huh?”

Isabelle elbowed him. Hard. “Ryan’s right here,” she hissed. “Cut it out.”

I could feel a warm blush creeping across my face. He wasn’t wrong, but I chose to ignore his comment and move on to more appropriate subject matter.

“When’s everyone else coming over?”

“Any time now. I sent out a group text to the team. Sans Hunter, I mean. Hey, did you know Luca dumped Karissa?” Axel asked with a smirk.

Finally, Ethan’s last remaining tie to Alexis had been severed. Now if she would just transfer schools or drop off the face of the planet, we’d be set.

“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear it,” I admitted.

“Birthday shot,” he said, handing us each a shot glass of something clear.

Normally, I wasn’t a big shot person, but it seemed easier in the moment to humor him. Whatever it was that he gave me, it tasted like what I imagined nail polish remover would.

I shuddered. “That was awful.”

“I know,” he said with a laugh.

That shot, unfortunately, turned out to be the gateway drink for the evening—for all of us.

It opened the door to some poor decision-making, and things got a little sloppy from there on out. And then more than a little sloppy for some.

As the guys sat clustered around the kitchen table, playing poker, Isabelle and I went out onto the patio. It had been an amazing spring in terms of weather, and it was still balmy outside.

“Ryan,” Isabelle said in a conspiratorial voice. “You know what we should do? We should sell all our stuff and go backpacking, the four of us. They say things aren’t what matter anyway. It’s about the experiences. Travel is what makes people happy. I just read that in Cosmo.”

“Tempting offer, Iz,” I said. “But it would be hard to fit all of your makeup into a backpack.”

Her eyes widened. “Good point. And honestly, I don’t even like three-star hotels. Let alone a hostel like backpackers would stay in.” She shuddered. “Shared bathrooms. Can you even imagine?”

The patio door opened, and Ethan wandered out, looking a little lost.

“There you are,” he said to me with a crooked grin. I still felt weak in the knees whenever I saw that smile. “I was looking for you everywhere.”

“Game over?” I asked. In truth, I wouldn’t be heartbroken if he was finished so we could hang out again.

“For me, anyway. Thanks to Axel,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Iz.

She laughed. “I’m going to go check on him. I’ll leave you two lovebirds out here.”

“Hey,” Ethan said, leaning in to kiss me. His lips found mine and his tongue slid into my mouth, insistently. Butterflies ran through my stomach as we melted into each other, like we always did. But to my surprise, things escalated when he moved his hands down my hips and grabbed my butt, picking me up so that my legs could wrap around his waist.

I knew he had to be feeling a decent buzz, because people were not all that far away; everyone was inside at the table and we were right by the dining room window. Usually he wasn’t quite so pro-PDA.

“Hey, babe.”

“What do you say we take this upstairs?” he murmured in my ear.

Desire stirred stir within me. And I was tipsy enough that it almost sounded like a good idea. But not quite.

“We can’t leave everyone else,” I giggled, leaning back to look at him. “They’ll notice if we do.”

“Who cares? We don’t have to be long,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

I tilted my head. “Are you trying to use that as a selling point?”

“I guess that came out wrong,” he admitted, setting me down as he started to laugh.

For some reason, this caused us both to dissolve into a fit of uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. Once we caught the giggles, we started to feed off each other and it just got worse and worse. Finally, I was nearly crying, I was laughing so hard.

“Oh my god,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I don’t know what just got into me. I couldn’t stop.”

“I know,” he said, shoulders still shaking. He took a deep breath, exhaling loudly, as we both calmed down slowly, random giggles occasionally punctuating the silence.

Looking at me, his expression turned serious. “I think I love you. Or I’m falling in love with you. Something. I don’t know. But it scares the hell out of me.”

As the words left his mouth, his expression took on a deer-in-headlights quality. A mix of emotions washed over me. It was something I wanted to hear, but I wasn’t sure if he was just saying it because he’d had too much to drink. And I didn’t like that it seemed to scare him so much; I was worried he might freak out and bail. I was all in, and I hoped that he was too.

I’d probably have to wait for a sober moment to know if he really meant what he was saying. Still, the only answer I could really give him was the truth. Softly, I said, “I feel the same way.”

He sighed and gave me a little smile. “Good. And I’ll probably regret what I just said in the morning, huh?”

“I hope not.” I smiled, kissing him again. As we pulled back, mouths inches apart, he leaned his forehead against mine and stroked my chin.

“Nah, I won’t.”

The moment was interrupted by an alarming crash from inside. I wasn’t sure what we even had in the condo that was capable of creating that sound, whether it was now broken, or whether it was the sound of a falling person. Hopefully, not a broken person.

We both cringed. “We should probably get back. Guests await. And given the stockpile of alcohol, things might get out of hand if we don’t supervise,” he said, interlacing his fingers with mine. “Or maybe they already have.”

“Ryan!” Isabelle called as I opened the patio door, “I have an even better idea.”

***

Ethan

I woke up to a mouth full of cotton and the sensation of being bashed in the side of my temple with a sledgehammer at a rapid pace. Light seeped in around the curtains, gouging at my eyes. Has it always been so bright in our bedroom?

“How are you feeling?” Ryan asked me gently, setting down a bottle of Gatorade on the nightstand.

“Physically or mentally? Either way, the answer is the same: horrible,” I said, hiding under the pillow.

She laughed. “Aw, no. It’s okay.”

“Ryan, I was a mess last night.”

“Well, yeah. You were a little sloppy, but it was pretty harmless.”

Yeah, except for the part where I developed loose liquor lips and said way too much. Maybe she thinks I don’t remember. Maybe I should pretend that I don’t.

“Except for one thing,” she said, wincing.

Uh-oh. Here it comes. We were about to have one of the most awkward talks of all time.

“You broke the patio doorknob.”

That did sound vaguely familiar. I couldn’t remember how that happened but I was pretty sure Axel was involved. He usually was.

“Sorry about that. I’ll fix it later today. Hey, how come you seem to be feeling so chipper? You had a fair bit to drink and you’re a tiny little thing.”

She shrugged. “Iz and I stopped drinking around midnight and chugged a ton of water. Meanwhile, you boys just kept on going. And going.”

Yes, until about four a.m. if I remembered correctly. I think that was what the clock said when I crawled into bed with Ryan.

At the time, it seemed like a good idea to crack another beer at two a.m. In the future, I needed to remember that having any drinks after midnight was generally inadvisable.

“We ordered pizza, too, and I think eating helped. But at that point, you were too heavily involved in arguing about your NHL playoff pool. You had fun, for what it’s worth. In case you don’t remember.”

Oh, I did. And now I had a splitting headache to remind me. I won that argument, too. Smith over Wilson any day, Geoff.

“I have a class to teach soon but maybe, um, you should go back to bed for a while. You know, sleep it off. We have your banquet tonight,” she reminded me.

The banquet. Good god. I’d forgotten all about that. I couldn’t imagine functioning in public today, let alone getting dressed up in a suit in front of my coach and the rest of the team’s management.

Dammit Axel. Okay, so technically I was responsible for my own poor choices last night. But it felt better to blame him.

“Feel better,” she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek before turning to leave. “Oh, and Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“You agreed to go to bootcamp with Isabelle. Something about saying Axel was a wimp because he told you it was hard. I think there may be money riding on it.”

What on earth?

I was never drinking again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREEE

Ethan

It took most of the day to sleep off the hangover and for the portion that I was awake, I wasn’t exactly productive. There was a lot of couch time and greasy food involved. Probably not a good look on me, but Ryan was out for most of the day anyway.

Finally, it was five and we needed to leave for the banquet in an hour. I could slack no longer. I needed to remove myself from the couch. Somehow.

Of course, Ryan was already upstairs. It was our first big public event as a couple, and I could tell she was nervous. Usually, she didn’t take this long to get ready. I thought it was pretty cute.

After a long shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist and went into the walk-in closet to grab a suit, tie, and shirt. As I pulled my dress shirt off the hanger, a button snagged on the shirt beside it and popped off, flying onto the floor. That figured. I’d fixed the patio door, but somehow, I was breaking things today, too. On top of everything else, now I had to sew.

I walked into the bathroom, where Ryan was getting ready.

“Hey, do you have a sewing ki—” I stopped dead in my tracks.

She was standing in front of the vanity, doing her makeup in nothing but a lacy black bra and matching, tiny, underwear. Skin, so much skin. And curves.

“What was that?” Ryan asked, looking at me in the mirror as she applied her lipstick.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over all of that hotness,” I said, scanning her up and down with a grin. “You can’t run around like that and expect me to keep my hands off of you.”

“I’ll have you know that I was minding my own business in here,” she said with a sexy smirk, setting her lipstick down on the counter.

“To be fair, the door was open. Besides, I’m not complaining.” I stepped closer to her, putting my hands on her bare shoulders. Her hair was pulled up, giving me unrestricted access to her perfect, edible neck.

“I just didn’t want to get makeup all over my dress,” she said with a shrug.

I let my hands wander down her body, exploring the soft curves. “But now, you’ll have me all over you instead,” I said in her ear, as my lips found their way to her neck.

She tilted her head, yielding to me. “What about your shirt?”

Shirt? What shirt?

“I could go to the banquet shirtless for all I care right now,” I murmured between kisses.

“I’m going to have to veto that one. You’d get too much female attention.”

“And that would make you jealous?”

“Let’s call it territorial.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

Gently, I turned her chin so I could kiss her on the lips. She sighed as I worked my tongue into her mouth, letting my hands wander farther down her body still. Her breath hitched as I pulled the teeny tiny underwear right off, helping her step out of them before tossing them aside.

It didn’t take long before neither of us had any clothing on. The mirror in front of us provided a view of everything and made the whole encounter seem just a little bit naughty.

“You’re mine, right?” I asked her.

“I always have been,” she said breathlessly as I continued to touch her.

“Say it, babe.”

It drove her crazy—in the best way possible—when I ordered her around in the bedroom. I guess my control issues weren’t always a bad thing.

“I’m yours,” she moaned.

“Fucking right you are.”

Everything else faded and all that there was, in the moment, was her body pressed against mine, and the addictive sensation of us intertwined.

We paused for a moment, wrecked and breathless, recovering from the intensity of what had just happened. Leaning forward to embrace her, I kissed her flushed cheek and brushed her hair out of her face.

“We’re going to be late now,” she whispered.

“Worth it,” I said.

***

Ryan

The year-end varsity awards banquet was a big deal for Ethan; he was nominated for two awards, including MVP—which he’d just won.

I guessed that after we got together, his game really turned around for the last few weeks of the regular season. He was a big reason why they clinched their playoff spot.

The dress I’d chosen for tonight was red—his favorite color—and had a plunging neckline. My hair was up in a bouffant bun, but it had taken me ages to figure out my makeup. Maybe it wasn’t the lipstick at all, maybe it was the dress that I didn’t like. Now that we were at the banquet, I was second-guessing whether it was too showy. My cleavage was definitely on display.

“Mmm, look at you,” Ethan said appreciatively as he walked up with our drinks. Based on his reaction, the dress probably was a tad much. I was with Isabelle when I bought it; I blame her.

“Hi there, Mr. MVP.”

As if on cue, the DJ put a love ballad on in the background. “Want to dance?” he asked me with a grin, setting our glasses of wine down on the table.

“Of course,” I said, taking his hand and letting him lead me out onto the dance floor. I was probably biased, but I was quite sure I had the most handsome date at the banquet.

He put his hand on my lower back; I loved how it felt there, so strong and secure. It occurred to me that this was the first time we had danced together, ever.

“What are your plans after senior year?” he asked me as he led me around the dance floor.

“I’m hoping to land a position in the NICU,” I said. “And after that, eventually, I want to go back to school. Either to become a nurse practitioner, or to get my master’s in counseling psychology.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s why I decided to finish my degree instead of signing as a free agent early; it’s always better to have options.”

“Exactly. And either field would be really interesting. You could work with a variety of populations—like geriatrics or pediatrics. They’re both flexible, too. It would be easy to have kids and keep working.”

Instantly, I wanted to kick myself. Why did I just say that? No twenty-two-year-old guy wants to talk about kids, especially not in the middle of a semiformal banquet. He was going to run screaming for the hills.

“Kids, huh?” he grinned, turning us on the dance floor in the dim light. “Yeah, I can just see you with a herd of little brown-haired mini-Ryans. Cute.”

“No! Maybe like two, tops. Why, don’t you want kids?”

“Oh, definitely. I want five. Three to make up a hockey line, plus a pair for defense,” he explained cheerfully. Like this was just a normal, typical size for a family. Was he serious?

I groaned. “Of course you do. Your poor future wife. You’re not the one who will have to deal with being pregnant.”

“That’s true. You will.”

My heart danced at the mention of us in the future. Married. With babies.

“And what if they’re all girls?”

“Hey Ms. Feminist, there’s such thing as women’s hockey,” he reminded me. “So, can you get a job in any city? Hypothetically speaking.”

“I mean, probably. Nursing is pretty portable that way. Why? Hypothetically speaking.”

He looked bashful. “Because I don’t know where I’ll end up yet,” he said. “And I’d kind of like you to come with me once I do.”

“You would?”

“Of course. I meant what I said last night, you know,” he whispered in my ear.

Teasing him, I played dumb. “What, about the lobster being good tonight?”

He shot me a look of playful exasperation. “No. That I love you. It just kind of slipped out. That wasn’t how I wanted to say it the first time.”

He couldn’t have been cuter, in the moment, worrying like that. I had loved him for such a long time that I didn’t care about the details—I just wanted to hear that he felt the same way too.

“I didn’t mind the timing,” I said. “I just liked hearing it.”

“Good. Because I do. I love you. And I’m never going to stop telling you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Ryan

The most bothersome things inevitably surface in your consciousness at the most inopportune times. All those unpleasant thoughts, unsolved problems, and unanswered questions that you would rather ignore—they sneak up on you and zap you like a taser.

And so, while I was trying to sleep, it occurred to me that I needed to tell my mother about Ethan.

I couldn’t exactly let my estranged father meet my boyfriend when my mother didn’t even know he existed. She knew Ethan existed in a vague, not-entirely-truthful roommate scenario that I had mostly tried to avoid discussing altogether. But she had no idea that we were together. And I was certain she wasn’t going to like it.

Dread flooded my body as my heart began to accelerate, forcing me fully awake. The possibility of falling asleep any time soon slipped through my fingers.

Sitting up in the dark, I took a deep breath and tried to reassure myself. I was an adult. I was financially independent. I wasn’t, technically speaking, doing anything wrong.

Yet somehow, I felt like a little kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Ethan rolled over and looked at me, his brows knit together in concern under the sliver of moonlight pouring in through the window.

“What’s wrong?”

“Have you told your family about us?” I asked him.

He wasn’t surprised by the apparent randomness of the question. By now, he was used to the way my thoughts jumped around. I could go from bicycles to pancakes in five seconds flat.

“I told my mom right away. And she was happy about it. Haven’t really mentioned it to my dad, but you know how that is. I’ll tell him eventually. Why?”

“I need to tell my mom. And I don’t think it will be well received.”

He nodded sympathetically. “I can see why you might be worried. But you two are close, right? Honesty really is the best policy. It might take some time, but I think she’ll come around eventually.”

“It’s that ‘some time’ part that worries me,” I admitted. “I feel like things are going to be so strained and awkward with her once I come clean.”

“Worse than it is now? You’re hiding something pretty big from her,” he pointed out as he leaned over and switched on the lamp on his side of the bed. Or was it our room now? I hadn’t slept in mine in weeks. Alas, another question for another day.

“At least, I think our relationship is a pretty big deal,” he added.

I sighed. “It is. You’re right. Totally right. I guess it’s just weird to me because it’s basically admitting to my mom that I’m, well, having sex. It’s uncomfortable to even think about.”

“I’m sure she already has an idea.”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between letting her imagine things and outright confirming them.”

He rubbed my back for a moment. “It’ll be okay. Really.”

I was glad he seemed so sure of that, because I definitely wasn’t.

***

My mother let loose a deep sigh before falling quiet for a moment.

Although we were talking on the phone, I knew exactly what face my mother was making right now: the one where she rubbed the bridge of her nose with her eyes closed. The “I’m not disappointed in you, but I’m disappointed in the choices you’ve made” face. My gut wrenched as I waited for her to say something. Anything.

“Ryan, I’m trying to be supportive here. But I have to be honest: I don’t like it.”

The disapproval in her voice stung like a thousand tiny paper cuts. I’d figured she wouldn’t take the news well, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“It wasn’t something I expected to happen,” I said. “But I really care about him.”

“Does that mean it’s serious?”

“Yes.”

Another sigh. “I want what’s best for you, honey. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Here we go into the unwanted, veiled discussion of my sex life. Or, well, not-so-veiled.

“I won’t, Mom. Don’t worry. Everything on that end is, um, covered. And I think you’ll really like Ethan when you meet him.”

“I’m sure I will. It’s just that I do worry. And this is a lot for me to process on the spot.”

The shame of letting her down started to overwhelm me. I felt myself choking up, but crying would probably just make the situation worse. I stood and started pacing the living room to stay calm.

We were both silent for a while, neither of us knowing what to say.

Finally, she asked, “Is he coming to the wedding?”

I had no idea. We hadn’t gotten that far yet. Mom’s wedding was still several months away.

“I don’t know. I mean, can he? Is that okay?”

“Of course. If you two are still together by then, he is more than welcome to come with you. You are an adult, after all. But I hope that I’ll get to meet him before that,” she said.

“I hope so, too.”

“If he comes, though, will Isabelle still be tagging along like you’d planned? She’s more than welcome. I’d love to see her.”

“I’ll talk to her,” I said. “She might feel like a third wheel without Axel, though.”

“Alex?”

“No, her boyfriend Axel. They’ve been together for a while, now. Nine months or so?”

She chuckled. “You girls. I can’t believe you’ve grown up so fast. They can both come, if you want. I know it might not be much fun for you two hanging out with us oldies at a resort for an entire week.”

Mexico with the three of them did sound pretty awesome, but I didn’t want to trample on my mother’s big day, either. I had assumed it would be family time and resigned myself to that.

Then again, it would be her honeymoon, too—although it weirded me out to even go there, she might want some alone time with her new husband.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Assuming all your college friends can scrape up the cash to come, we would love to have them there. Isabelle is a sweetheart.”

I’d left out the part where cash wasn’t a problem for Ethan, ever. Oh well, not relevant right now.

“Oh, sweetie,” she said apologetically, “In talking about all of this, I nearly forgot all about your coffee date with your father tomorrow. How are you feeling about that?”

“Nervous. So nervous.”

Ethan walked in then and pointed upstairs silently, mouthing “shower.” I nodded. Usually, he would joke about me joining him, but I think he could read the tension in my face.

“That’s understandable. Will Ethan be going with you?”

“He is. I wanted the moral support.”

“I’m glad that you’ll have him,” she said quietly.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel like talking anymore after the reminder of what tomorrow would bring. This had to be one of the top-five most stressful phone calls of my life.

“I should get going,” I said. “But I’ll let you know how it goes, afterwards.”

After I ended the call, I went into the kitchen and made a mug of tea. I curled up on the big round armchair by the window—my favorite spot in the whole condo—and tried to focus on the book I was in the middle of. Usually my favorite form of escapism, even reading couldn’t hold my attention this time.

All I could wonder was what I would be walking into tomorrow.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Ethan

“Ready?” I asked Ryan as I grabbed the keys to my truck.

Nothing makes time fly faster than dreading what lies ahead— the days leading up to meeting Ryan’s father sped by in a blur. Now, we were about to face it head on.

I couldn’t place why I felt so apprehensive about the meeting, specifically, other than the fact that I was worried about how it might turn out for her sake. If it went sideways, Ryan would be devastated.

“Not really, but it’s time to leave,” she said, forcing a weak smile. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She was quiet as we walked down to the underground parking garage, and quieter still on our five-minute drive over to Im/Pressed, the coffee shop they had decided on.

When we walked in, it was immediately evident who we were there to meet. A man in his mid-40s was seated in the corner; he had the same coloring as Ryan—chestnut hair, dark eyes. In fact, she had his eye shape, too. The resemblance was striking.

I could only imagine how strange it must have felt for her.

He spotted us and set down the coffee he was already drinking. I noticed that he was well-dressed, in a high-end charcoal suit and a crisp white dress shirt, no tie. He looked like one of the investment bankers my father worked with.

His attire surprised me, since Ryan had intimated that she and her mother didn’t have a lot of money, and it didn’t sound like he had helped with their situation. A flicker of anger rippled through me. I clamped down on it, reminding myself that I was here for moral support—not to make judgments for her.

“Ryan?” he asked, standing up.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“And Ethan,” I offered as I extended my hand. “Her boyfriend.”

He looked surprised, briefly, almost like he’d forgotten that she was now a fully grown adult, but he accepted my hand with a firm shake.

“Jason,” he said.

“Ry, I’ll go grab us drinks. Earl Grey or English breakfast?”

“Earl Grey, please,” she replied, reluctantly sitting down at the table.

I was trying to be helpful but wondered if I had just left her high and dry instead. When I returned with our drinks, they were still in the awkward, getting-to-know-you small talk.

“What are you taking in school?”

“I’m studying nursing, just finishing up my third year. Ethan is majoring in finance and he’s the captain of the school hockey team.”

“Nursing. Interesting. Kind of reminds me of your mother, always taking care of people,” he observed thoughtfully.

It wasn’t meant to be upsetting, but Ryan flinched.

Trying to maneuver past that, I asked, “What about you, Jason?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m a managing partner at Degas, Wilson, and Katz, LLP.”

Suddenly, it clicked. Jason Degas. I had forgotten that Ryan’s parents were never married. Winters was her mother’s maiden name.

Ryan’s dad was one of the biggest lawyers in New York City. How had I not realized this sooner?

With this newfound knowledge, the anger returned. While it was nice that he was trying to help now, I was immensely irritated to think that he could have—should have—done this years ago.

But picking a fight with my girlfriend’s estranged father wouldn’t end well for anybody at the table, least of all myself.

So instead, I just nodded and said, “Your firm represents my father’s firm. CityCap Financial.”

His eyes widened. “Yes. Your father is Curtis Russell?”

“He is. I worked there last summer, actually, but I’ll be away doing training for hockey this year.”

“Ethan is an amazing hockey player,” Ryan interjected.

“And clearly smart, too. It looks like you’re in good hands,” he said with a smile. After a pause, he added, “But I guess that was part of why I’m here. I wanted to help make things right. I know your mother raised you on her own for all these years.”

Ryan was silent for a moment, intently focused on her teaspoon.

“Okay.”

“I wanted to pay off your student loans and cover your tuition for next year.”

Well, that was some guilt he must have been carrying around, to offer that in one fell swoop. But now that I knew who he was, I knew he would be more than able to drop the large chunk of cash all at once.

Objectively, it was a good deal for Ryan; I knew that her student loans stressed her out. I always assumed that I would just help her pay them off after school, but we hadn’t discussed that due to her stubborn aversion to being helped by other people. I hadn’t pushed things, figuring that down the road, she might be more receptive to relying on me.

“I don’t know what to say,” Ryan told him.

“Let me help you,” he said.

“You never helped before,” she snapped. “Why start now?”

He looked wounded. But he couldn’t have been overly surprised after going MIA for twenty years. I had a feeling that his intentions were good, but it was still a dramatic shift in course.

“I know,” he said quietly. “And it bothers me every day.”

She sighed, jiggling her leg under the table. I put my hand on her knee to help steady her.

“You know what? Fine. I’m no hero. If you want to help, knock yourself out,” she said with a shrug.

He looked relieved. “Good. We can exchange the details over email.”

“So… do I have any siblings?” Ryan asked hesitantly.

“My wife is expecting, actually. You’ll have a half-brother or sister in about three months.”

I watched Ryan for her reaction, unsure how she’d take that news. But she seemed okay. Then I wondered if he was taking a page from my father’s book with a wife half his age.

“Wow, that’s exciting. Congratulations,” she said with a genuine smile. “I love babies. I want to work in the NICU after college.”

Jason studied her for a minute. “Your mother did an excellent job raising you, I can tell.”

Ryan blushed and looked down. I squeezed her leg, and the clock on the wall caught my eye.

“I hate to do this, but we both have class at eleven,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I should have let things keep doing and allowed us to miss it, but I wanted to give her the choice.

“Oh, I still have to run home and get my books,” Ryan said, frowning.

Jason stood, straightening his suit jacket. “It’s okay. We can meet up again another time, if you like. Maybe if you ever come into the New York, you can meet my wife, Shelby.”

We said our goodbyes, complete with uneasy hugs for all, and made our way back to the truck. Ryan was quiet, still processing everything.

“That seems like it went okay, right?” I said to her as I pulled out of the parking lot.

Her breath caught and she burst into tears. My heart sank. Oh, no. I should have seen that coming. Ryan was a crier. And it was a lot to handle.

I pulled into the adjoining McDonald’s parking lot. I got out and went around to her side so I could open her door and wrap my arms around her. She buried her face in my chest, soaking through my shirt with tears.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying right now,” she confessed, voice muffled in my shirt.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to,” I said as I stroked her hair.

She hiccupped. “I don’t want to go to class. Can we just skip it today? I know that goes against everything you stand for.”

“Of course. What do you want to do instead?”

“Can we just go home?”

“Absolutely.”

Home. Our home.

Despite everything else, that part felt really good.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Ryan

I shut my textbook with a sigh. After camping out in the living room with only the dim corner lamp on for several hours, I was starting to see double. It was nearly midnight and if I had to calculate drug dosages any longer, I would be doing it in my sleep. I had an exam in two days, but my brain had already tapped out. It didn’t help that math was the part of my program I enjoyed least; patients, on the other hand, were my favorite. Ethan always laughed and said I was crazy, and that he’d take math over dealing with people any day. For such a well-liked guy, sometimes he verged on being a curmudgeon.

The display on my cell phone lit up and it started to vibrate with an unknown caller. I hit decline, frowning. There had been a few calls like that this week and whenever I answered, there was no response on the other end. I’d chalked it up to telemarketers but at midnight? I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Part of me wondered if it was Levi, but it seemed unlikely that he would resurface now after so many months At least, I hoped he wouldn’t. Ethan had suffered a minor concussion at his game several days ago—as minor as brain injuries could be, anyway—and had been officially sidelined from the rest of the playoffs. Needless to say, he’d been incredibly stressed out, and he was taking the inability to play personally. He wasn’t severely injured, which was obviously a blessing, but also made it harder for him to cope with knowing he’d be out for the next few weeks when he claimed he felt perfectly fine. Between his injury and finals, the last thing we needed was to add ex drama to our pile of problems.

Craning my neck, I tried to see if the bedroom light was on upstairs. It looked dark; maybe Ethan had fallen asleep for once. I hoped so. For the past few nights, I’d felt him tossing and turning for ages before finally getting out of bed and slinking downstairs. Even though his intentions were good and he was trying to let me sleep, I hated when he did that; the bed felt empty without him.

I creeped into the room quietly and slid into bed, trying not to disturb him. He rolled over and put his arm around me, pulling me close. He’d clearly been awake anyway. Sighing, I snuggled up against him, relishing his scent and the feel of his warm, muscled body wrapped around mine. I always loved how small I felt in comparison to him. He started to kiss my shoulder, tracing my arm with his fingers, and desire sparked within me.

It played through my mind over and over and over again. Seeing him hit the boards, watching him get off the ice with unsteady feet, wondering if he was okay. I couldn’t shake the feelings that I might hurt him if we had sex.

His fingers traveled from my shoulder to the strap of my tank top, toying with it.

“Touch me, Ryan,” he pleaded, his tone raw. “And let me touch you.”

I hesitated, paralyzed; I was too afraid. My body yearned for him, but my heart couldn’t take it if something happened to him.

“I need you,” he said huskily. “All of you. It’s been way too long.”

Objectively speaking, I wasn’t sure that a week since his concussion constituted as all that long, but I agreed with the general sentiment. My worries aside, I supposed I had to trust that he knew his limits. “Okay.”

He leaned in to kiss me gently. Lips came together, followed by tongues, as his kiss shifted from questioning into something more insistent and demanding. The spark I’d felt earlier ignited into a blaze.

“Just okay?” he whispered, pulling the strap down all the way, baring my skin.

“Yes,” I sighed.

My breath hitched as he grabbed me by the waist, pulling me up against him tightly. His mouth crashed greedily into mine, and a small moan escaped from me as he threaded his fingers through my hair.

We shifted so that my top leg was draped over his hip, our bodies lining up in that perfect way beneath our minimal clothing; I could confirm from the way that he was pressing up against me that he was, in fact, very much up to it.

He slid down the other strap and my pulse quickened as his eyes raked over the top half of my body, now fully bare.

“I’m all yours. You know, I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he said. “All kinds of scenarios. Like that time on the couch when you climbed on me and—”

“Stop! You’re making me blush,” I scolded.

He looked back up at me and raised his eyebrows, grinning. “I like when you act all innocent, because I know the side of you that’s not.”

While true, that just made me blush more. It felt like a hundred degrees inside the room.

“Plus, you’re sexy when you blush,” he said as his mouth found mine again, tugging off the last of my clothes.

***

It was already light out when I woke up and Ethan was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, you,” he said as he walked in with a mug of tea. “I know you were up late, so I let you sleep in as long as possible. But you have a shift starting in a couple of hours.”

“You sure seem chipper today,” I said.

“It’s a wonder what a little quality time with you can do.” He paused and a hopeful expression dawned on his face.

“On another note, I got the email you forwarded me with the resort details, and I booked everything for Mexico this morning. Seven days on a beach with beer and margaritas. And your mom’s wedding, of course.”

“That sounds so good,” I groaned, dragging myself out of bed reluctantly. “I desperately need a vacation. I just want to escape real life for a while November feels so far away. Can’t we go now?”

“You know, now that playoffs are over I have nothing but time. Too much time. Would you be able to get off work?”

It was a rhetorical question, but I should have known better than to ask things like that with him. He’d probably go book something today. Then again, getting away right now really did sound appealing.

“I do have some vacation time banked. I could probably make it happen.”

“We could go to Vegas, hit the roulette wheel, and put it all on red. After the luck we’ve had lately, we’re bound to win.”

I laughed, but reality started to trickle back in, interrupting our daydreams. “As tempting as that sounds, there’s somewhere else we probably should go if we’re taking off.”

“Where?”

Here goes nothing—hopefully he doesn’t freak out at the suggestion.

“To visit my mom. It would be nice if you could meet her before the wedding.”

He was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. “Fair enough. After my dad comes, we can go. Assuming you get time off. May as well make this an uncomfortable week for both of us, like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

“Oh, come on. Meeting my mom won’t be that bad. I think she’ll come around quickly.”

He gave me a weak smile. “I was joking about your mom. I’m looking forward to that part. But I wasn’t kidding about my dad.”

“I’m sure it will be okay. Blair and the twins are coming too, right? That should ease the tension.”

“You’d think,” he said. “But it only helps so much.”

My phone vibrated on the nightstand and I checked it, frowning. A sense of uneasiness washed over me. Unknown caller again.

“Have you been getting weird calls?” I asked him, hitting decline once more.

“Like a blocked number? A few. I thought it was just a sales call. Maybe someone sold our numbers to a list.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Ethan

A sense of impending doom weighed on me as I went upstairs to change into a fitted pair of jeans and a linen button-up shirt; I’d been living in sweats lately, but seeing my father always necessitated nicer, less comfortable clothing. It was fitting, given that spending time with him was generally uncomfortable, too.

As I searched the drawers for a belt, I marveled at how much nicer the bedroom looked now that it was Ryan’s as well. A few small touches had gone a long way, even if I would never openly admit to liking her girly scented candles. I would take that to the grave.

My ringtone trilled from downstairs, interrupting my train of thought. I sprinted down the stairs, hoping that it would be Axel with an update on their game, but it was a blocked ID with no one on the other end—again. Irritated, I brought my phone back with me upstairs while I finished changing.

Shortly after, the ringer sounded again. I was about to answer and yell at whoever was on the other end, but this time it was Axel.

“What’s up?” I asked, holding my breath. Tonight was game number four, make-or-break after three losses in a row.

He paused and I could hear him swallow on the other end. I knew what was coming.

“We got knocked out.”

It felt like another slide straight into the boards.

“It was a good effort from the team. You’d be proud. But it just didn’t go our way. A couple of bad calls and a couple iffy plays. Those are the breaks.”

“Right. Well, I’m sorry to hear it. But we can regroup and come back stronger next year,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Totally.” His tone was chipper, but I knew he was doing the same.

“And thanks for stepping up as captain while I was out,” I added.

“No prob. It was fun to wield all the power for once. We’re going out for beers next Friday night. End-of-season celebration. You in?”

“Sure. I think I’ll be freed by then. I have a doctor’s appointment that morning.”

“Think Ryan will come too?”

“I’ll check. Probably, as long as she doesn’t work.”

We ended the call and despair surged through me. It was irrational, but on some level, I felt as though I’d let the team down. Being down a scoring forward in the playoffs was like the kiss of death. I needed the solace of my man cave—aka the office.

Ryan had gotten home at some point and was curled up in the corner armchair, lost in a book with a mug of tea on the table beside her. She looked up as I came down the stairs and said, “Hey, I heard you on the phone when I got in and I didn’t want to interrupt. I put the lasagna in the oven already and everything else is good to go. It’s my mom’s famous recipe.”

There was a knock on the door. I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door, bracing myself for the storm sure to follow.

“Ethan,” my father said, stepping through the door and wrapping me in a tight embrace. It caught me off guard; hugs were not our usual form of greeting. In fact, he never hugged me. I had a vague recollection of it happening on the first day of kindergarten, but I wasn’t positive the memory was reliable.

He pulled away and Blair took his place, enveloping me in a cloud of expensive-smelling perfume. “It’s so good to see you; it’s been too long.”

“Ethan!” the twins chimed in as they clambered around me. “Come play with us!”

Ryan walked up, looking about as nervous as I felt. I’d tried to put her mind at ease when we spoke earlier, but meeting the parents was always a little awkward—especially when the boyfriend’s trophy stepmother was practically the same age as you.

At thirty, Blair was young by New York standards to be mother to two five-year-old daughters. I wondered if people ever mistook her for the nanny. Then again, the twins were a spitting image of her—albeit younger and less immaculately groomed.

That wasn’t to say I didn’t like Blair. She was actually pretty cool. A hell of a lot better than my father, to be sure. And she had nothing to do with why my parents’ split; that happened long before Blair was in the picture. She was barely out of high school by that point, anyway.

Blair spotted Ryan first. “Ryan?” she asked excitedly as she stepped forward and gave her a big, warm hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

One down.

My father stepped forward, clearly torn as to whether to extend his hand or also hug Ryan. He settled on the latter, to my relief. Shaking hands seemed too businesslike, even for him.

“Ryan,” he said, “Ethan has told me a lot about you. Thank you for being here and taking care of him during this time.”

That was my father: always formal.

Ryan was a champ, though, smiling and saying, “It’s nice to meet the both of you. But I don’t think that I have been introduced to these two yet.” She kneeled down. “Mads and Char, right? I’m Ryan.”

“Hi.” Char giggled shyly, clutching to my leg.

“Hi, Ryan!” Mads yelled. She had always been a loud talker. Good to see that hadn’t changed.

I wasn’t sure who Mads had gotten that from, as neither my father nor Blair were the loud type. It drove them both so crazy that they’d had her hearing checked—twice. All was normal, doctors said. Diagnosis: five years old.

After some chit-chat in the living room, we got seated around the dining table and began to eat. Ryan had slaved away all morning making lasagna even though I’d told her that it wasn’t necessary. Something simpler, or even just takeout, would have been more than fine, especially when she normally didn’t cook often aside from pancakes. I appreciated it—I just didn’t want her to go to so much trouble.

But the stress of recent events seemed to trigger something in her that wanted to be excessively productive. Or maybe she just couldn’t sit still. She’d also been cleaning—a lot. The condo was never all that dirty to begin with. Now, it sparkled.

“Thanks for this, Ry. It’s really good,” I said as I took the last bite on my plate. I meant it; for someone who claimed to be a terrible cook, she seemed to have a knack.

“Yeah, these noodles are yummy, Ryan!” Mads shouted. Now the entire condo building knew that we were eating pasta for dinner.

“Maybe I should get the recipe,” Blair said. “Both the girls actually ate it. It’s some kind of miracle.”

My father chuckled. “Are you sure you know where our kitchen is? The only person who cooks is Esmerelda.”

“Never too late to start,” Ryan said diplomatically. She was so skilled in navigating uncomfortable situations. I wondered if that came from handling people at her job. “I didn’t cook until this year, either. Before that, I was in the dorms without a kitchen.”

Blair nodded wistfully. “I remember my college days.”

I was sure she did, seeing how they were practically yesterday.

***

We finished eating and I cleared the plates, leaving them in the sink to deal with later. Ryan tried to help me, but I stopped her. She put up a fight about it, too.

After the table was cleaned off, my father cleared his throat. My entire body tensed, and sirens blared in my head. Alert, alert: lecture incoming.

“Ethan, we should discuss hockey and your career,” he said. “Let’s pour a drink and go into the living room.”

Ryan froze and looked at me. I could tell that she didn’t know what to do.

“Um, maybe I should get the girls some dessert?” she said uncertainly, looking at me for guidance.

I gave her a nod, trying to reassure her. It would be easier to handle my father alone than to let him drag her into the conversation, too. Especially since I knew they were on the same side regarding what we were about to discuss.

Blair stood up, pushing her chair back. “Great idea. Come on, girls.”

Mads and Char tore into the kitchen, squealing in excitement. “No fair!” Mads screeched. “I was supposed to win.”

Blair shushed them gently. “There will be no dessert for anyone if you two can’t behave. Inside voices and walking feet, please.”

Even I could tell the threat was empty from her tone of voice. Blair was a sweetheart, but she was a total pushover.

“We have three kinds of ice cream,” I could hear Ryan say from the kitchen. “Vanilla, mint chip, and strawberry. Which one would you like?”

“I want mint chip mixed with strawberry!” Char exclaimed.

“Well that certainly sounds like an adventurous combination.”

They continued chattering, but my father handed me a glass of scotch, interrupting my eavesdropping. At least I’d been cleared to drink now. I certainly needed it.

“Surely, you must be reconsidering your choice of career after this incident,” he said as he sat down on the chair opposite me.

“No, not really,” I replied evenly, holding his gaze as I tilted the amber liquid from side to side in the glass. Slamming this scotch right now was extremely tempting, but then he’d be on me claiming a drinking problem on top of everything else.

“Ethan. Be reasonable, here. There is no reason to risk life playing some game when you have other options. Safer options that will still provide a comfortable life for you and Ryan.”

“I’m not in it for the money,” I bit out.

“No, you’re in it for the glory. The adrenaline. But is it really worth it?”

I flared my nostrils, exhaling loudly. I should’ve listened better when Ryan told me about those calming breath exercises. They would sure come in handy right now.

He shook his head, looking out the window. “I wish your mother had never gotten you into that sport.”

Anger shot through my body like a bolt of lightning. The nerve of him to go there when all he did for the latter part of my childhood was send birthday checks.

“First of all, don’t bring her into this. You didn’t help, you don’t get to judge. Second of all, I wanted to play. Nobody forced me into it. She was helping me follow my dream. You know, like a good parent.”

Sharp words from someone who did accept, and need, financial support from the person I was speaking to. It just poured out of me. Maybe I could blame the head injury.

His brows knit together. “Playing as a child is one thing but playing as an adult is another. You know there are players who suffer from long-term consequences because of the hits they take.”

He made a good point, as loath as I was to admit it. This was becoming more and more widely known, and it had received a lot of attention in the media lately. I just didn’t like to think about it.

“Those players take a lot more hits than just one before they start to run into those kinds of problems,” I argued.

“Of course. But in the NHL, you’ll continue to take hits. And you don’t know where that will lead.”

“I’m not an idiot. If it comes to that, someday, I’ll quit.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to quit while you’re ahead? Before your health is in jeopardy?” he asked quietly, taking a sip of his drink.

“I didn’t come this far and work this hard to just up and quit now.”

“You know that you get partial access to your trust fund now that your birthday has passed. And that still won’t compel you to change your mind?”

Was he implying that he would revoke the access if I didn’t? Knowing him, I was sure that he’d reserved a legal pathway to do so.

Hedging, I answered, “No.”

He was silent for a moment, weighing his response. Finally, he said, “Okay. You’re an adult. I can’t tell you what to do. You know where I stand, and you know you always have other options.”

“I appreciate that, Dad.”

“Ryan seems like a great girl,” he added, trying to ease the tension that now coated the air like an oily residue. “Very down to earth.”

It shouldn’t have mattered what he thought, but it still felt good, hearing his approval. Maybe because it so rarely happened.

“Thanks. I think so, too.”

Mads and Char sped into the living room, a mess of sticky fingers and faces. “Daddy! Ethan! Daddy! Ethan!” they alternated shouting. It was like some kind of adorable, but exhausting, curly blond tornado. The sugar probably hadn’t helped that.

“Girls! Come back here and wash up. You’re covered in ice cream,” Blair called.

“But we want Ethan to play with us,” Mads whined, looking at me with big puppy-dog eyes. She had perfected the sad, pouty face; it was quite convincing.

“Sorry, guys. Doctor’s orders. Tell you what, though—when I’m feeling better, Ryan and I will come visit and we’ll all go do something super fun,” I told her.

“Like visit the American Girl store?” Char asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up. “We could show Ryan all of the dolls!”

Ryan laughed. “Perfect. I’d love that.”

I’d been thinking something more like go play at a park or kick a ball around, but whatever worked. I was clearly outnumbered. “Sure, sweetie.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Ethan

After they left, Ryan flopped down next to me on the couch and said, “I think that went pretty well. Don’t you?”

I nodded but wondered how much of my conversation with my father she had overheard. They were on the same page regarding my hockey career—they both thought it should be over.

Not wanting to veer into that territory right now, I just said, “As far as my father is concerned, it was a success. Nobody yelled and nobody stormed out.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Low bar, but okay. Are we still good to go for Monday?”

“Yeah. I’ll go wash the truck tomorrow and make sure the inside is clean.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” she said, throwing her legs across my lap and cuddling up against me with her warm curves and delicious Ryan-scent. My body relaxed as she did, ever the source of comfort whenever I was tense. “I’m really looking forward to getting away, even if it’s just back to Lancaster.”

I was looking forward to it, too. A chance to see where Ryan came from. Grew up. There was a whole side to her life that I had never seen. And as nervous as I was about it, I wanted to meet her mother, too.

“Me, too. You, me, and the road. Perfect.”

The outcome of the playoffs popped back into my mind, bringing the sense of sinking disappointment along with it. Knocked out for the year because of me. If I’d just seen the trip coming, or avoided his skate, everything would have been different. We could have won. Would have won.

Stop. I had to put it aside for now. No sense in dwelling on it when Ryan was right here and everything else was going well. But if I crossed paths with that guy again, I was going to.

My thoughts were interrupted as Ryan put her hand on my arm, studying me. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive to the car wash?”

“I have to ease back in somehow, now that they’ve cleared me. It’s only a couple of blocks away, anyway. We can alternate as needed while we’re on the road, but you’ll probably have to do most of the driving.”

“Hold up.” Ryan frowned, sitting upright and staring at me with wide eyes. “Let’s rewind for a second here. I was distracted by the driving issue, but did you say truck? We can’t take your truck on a road trip. I can’t drive that beast,” she said, shaking her head emphatically in a blur of shiny brown hair.

By the way she talked, you’d have thought it was a legitimate monster truck with three-foot wheels. “It’s just a regular midsize truck, Ry. Not like it has a lift kit on it or anything. And my legs are too long for your tiny car,” I groaned.

When we took her car to the airport to drop off my mom last week, I legitimately felt like I was crammed into some kind of clown car. It felt like it was built to five-eighths scale. “Remind me to buy you something bigger.”

Instead of excited, as most people would be about the prospect of a new vehicle, Ryan looked mildly horrified. “You can’t buy me a car. That’s way too much money.”

“Ryan, come on. You and I both know that’s not an issue. And you got stuck in the snow twice last winter. Something higher off the ground wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

This was a valid argument; I worried about her whenever we got a big snowfall. But I knew she was going to fight me on this. She was eternally opposed to receiving any kind of help, even when she deserved it.

And she called me stubborn.

“I don’t know,” she said, her brows creasing together. “It’s still a huge expense. Besides, I like Sheila. I paid for her myself.”

“Sheila?”

“My car. Sheila.”

How had we gotten this far without me realizing she’d named her car? Adorable.

“It’s nothing against Sheila. She just wasn’t designed to accommodate people who aren’t elves,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulders affectionately.

“I’m not an elf,” Ryan said with a pouty frown. I had the sudden urge to kiss her. “Five foot three isn’t that short. It just seems that way to you because you’re a giant.”

The truth lay somewhere in between. I was taller than average, she was a little shorter than average, and the different added up to a lot.

“Okay, maybe a pixie? You’re cute and tiny. Like I could put you in my pocket.”

“I’m cute? Like a baby bunny or something? Keep digging, buddy,” she said in a menacing tone, narrowing her eyes. It was, ironically, cute—but I wisely kept that fact to myself.

“And sexy, of course. That’s a given. Very, very sexy,” I said as I leaned over and kissed her, strawberry ice cream lingering on her lips.

When I pulled back, she said, “Okay, you’re getting warmer. Just for future reference, women don’t typically like to be called cute.”

“Noted.” I paused. What were we talking about again? All I wanted to do now was go upstairs. Oh, right: cars. “Just curious though, if you had to get a new car: which color?”

“Silver. Like Sheila. But seriously, you can’t. That is a huge purchase. It’s not like we’re married or something.”

“Well, we could fix that too. Remember what I said about Vegas…”

“You’re impossible,” she said as her cheeks turned pink. “I appreciate the thought, though.”

“Okay, how about I buy myself a second silver car, and you just happen to drive it?”

She laughed.

“Plus, after the CT scanner, you wouldn’t want to traumatize me by cramming me into a tight space again, would you? I might start having flashbacks of being trapped in that tube,” I said, widening my eyes and giving her my best frightened expression.

I mimed being stuck against invisible glass and silently mouthed ‘help me’ for full dramatic effect.

“Cheap shot, pulling the injury card. I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Truck or new car. Take your pick. Marriage is still on the table, too.”

“You don’t actually want to get married. I’m only twenty-one,” she pointed out.

Details, details. I didn’t see why that particularly mattered.

“Yes, I do. I want to marry you,” I insisted.

It had been on my mind. I had mixed feelings about her moving across the country with me after school without making a formal commitment. I guess we didn’t need one, but it felt wrong, on some level, to ask so much of her as just a boyfriend.

“Well, I want to marry you, too,” she said with a bashful smile. “Someday.”

“Someday soon?”

She grinned. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” I said, kissing her again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Ryan

The buzzer sounded, and someone knocked on the door lightly. Nine at night on a weekday; who on earth could it be?

As I walked over to the entry, I wished that the unit had a video feed or even just a peephole on the door. It was odd, really, that such a nice condo building didn’t come with something like that.

I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door, only to be greeted with... the devil in a blue dress. Otherwise known as Alexis.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

She was wearing a tiny turquoise dress, complemented by sky-high white stilettos. Her hair had been dyed darker—a color not dissimilar to my own. Of course, she still looked gorgeous. It wasn’t fair that someone so inwardly awful was so outwardly stunning.

I furrowed my brow at the sight of her. No—I needed a better bitch face for handling her than that. Squaring my shoulders, I glared at her and channeled everything Isabelle had ever taught me about confrontation.

“What do you want?”

“I heard about Ethan’s injury,” she said in a saccharine tone, holding out what appeared to be some kind of get-well basket as evidence. “I wanted to give him this.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said curtly, moving to shut the door in her face. I wasn’t fast enough, and she stepped forward, inserting herself between the door and the doorframe. She shoved the door open forcefully, forcing me to stumble back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I just need to see him. To make sure he’s okay.”

Ethan’s footsteps clomped down the stairs. “Ryan? What’s going on?”

“Ethan, I’ve been worried about you,” she said with a pouty frown when she saw him. “I was at that game, you know. I saw you take that hit, and no one would tell me anything after. I’ve been calling you.”

Mystery of the private caller solved. Although several things remained unclear: why she was calling me as well, why she wasn’t speaking when either of us picked up, and how she’d obtained both of our numbers. Luca?

And why was she even at that game? The stands held thousands of people and, obviously, I hadn’t noticed her there. Who knew how many other games she’d attended this year without either of us knowing?

“Shouldn’t you take the hint? If he wanted you to know how he was doing, you’d know,” I snapped, trying to determine how to proceed. I wanted her out of the condo, but I wasn’t prepared to risk some kind of physical confrontation. Her fake nails looked long and sharp.

“Alexis, you need to leave,” Ethan said firmly.

A look of triumph slowly emerged across her face. Before he could finish his sentence, Alexis interjected, “Speaking of things people don’t know. She still doesn’t know, does she?”

“Know what?” I snapped. Ethan paled noticeably.

She looked me straight in the eye and said, matter-of-factly, “I was pregnant when Ethan broke up with me.”

It was like having a bucket of ice water poured over my head. I looked over at Ethan, who was rubbing his temple, wincing.

He said, “You know what I need? To avoid stress. And you are stressing me out right now. You need to leave. Out.” Grabbing her by the elbow, he steered her out the door and slammed it, locking it behind her.

Some people have bad days. Others, bad weeks. This was a bad month. A terrible month, in fact. I hoped it wouldn’t continue into a bad year, but it might, depending on how this played out.

For a moment, I just gaped at him, unable to formulate a proper sentence for a few moments.

“Ethan Conrad Russell. What the hell was that?”

He looked up at the ceiling and sighed, shaking his head. Confusion, anger, hurt, dread, and a dash of nausea ran through me. All kinds of possible scenarios swirled around in my head, running the gamut from bad to worse to relationship annihilation.

“Given that you were recently injured, I’m trying to keep calm,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’m trying very, very hard. But start talking, please. Now.”

He was quiet for a minute before finally saying, carefully, “Ryan, I didn’t tell anyone about that. Literally. Not a soul. Not even Axel.”

Oh my God. He wasn’t denying it.

“So, it’s true?”

“No,” he said, emphatically. “It’s not.”

“Then why did you keep it a secret?”

For all our talks about letting me in—and especially after the Tinder debacle—he didn’t think to tell me about this? I was crazy about him, but sometimes he also drove me crazy. Passion was a double-edged sword.

“Because I didn’t want to go around repeating a lie. That would just give it legs and turn it into something other people believed. Can we go into the living room or something to discuss this? It’s weird just standing here in the entry,” he said. “Don’t you want to sit down?”

“I’m fine here. How did you know it was a lie?” This seemed rather like a bad reality show, at the moment.

“Look, I was always careful. I know things can still happen, but then factor in that I found out that she had been sleeping with Hunter, too. And add in how unstable she is. It wasn’t a credible claim from the start.”

“That’s a pretty serious thing to lie about,” I argued. It was one of those lies that would send you straight to hell. Then again, Alexis was probably headed there anyway.

“It sure is. And making something like that up is straight out of Alexis’s playbook. I could write an entire book called Crazy Shit Alexis Did. It would be five hundred pages long. And it would have a sequel.”

“I need full disclosure, Ethan,” I said impatiently. “What happened exactly? Explain the timeline to me, here.”

“I didn’t break up with her because she told me she was pregnant, if that’s what you’re getting at. I’m not some kind of monster, Ry,” he said softly as he leaned against the doorway to the kitchen.

I frowned. “I know that.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I broke up with her because I came home from school one day and found her screwing Hunter in my living room.”

I cringed as the mental image flashed through my mind. Isabelle said he had caught them in bed together, but I guess the specifics had gotten muddled.

If I walked in to find Ethan with one of my friends, I’d be sick. Literally. I would probably vomit on the floor. I couldn’t stomach the thought of him kissing someone else, let alone more.

“The next day, I refused to even speak to her, like most people would. After ignoring her for a couple weeks, she texted me and told me she was pregnant, claiming that she knew it was mine because of the way the dates lined up. Because, supposedly, she had only just started sleeping with Hunter when I caught them. That scenario is ten types of fucked up no matter how you spin it. How could I believe a word she said?”

“What if she was telling the truth?” The words tasted bitter.

“My instincts told me she wasn’t. I told her that she was more than welcome to come over and take a test, in my bathroom, and prove it so that we could deal with things accordingly. And I’m no idiot—if it had ever been positive then there would’ve been a paternity test later, too. But she refused.”

He paused before adding, “About a month later, she told me that she lost the baby. But was there ever a baby at all? And if so, was it even mine? I assumed it was all a sick scheme.”

I shifted my weight, leaning awkwardly against the wall. My feet were tired from standing around on the ceramic tile. I wanted to sit down but didn’t want to admit that he’d been right about moving from the entry.

“It could have been,” I said as I finally caved and walked into the living room, Ethan trailing behind. “But she blindsided me today. I was reeling, wondering if there was a baby running around somewhere that was yours—that had been put up for adoption or something.”

“Oh my god, no. The only babies that will be walking around someday are ours, Ryan.”

In spite of myself and the still-lingering urge to strangle him, I smiled. Then I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself and resumed a stern expression.

“All of that happened right around the night of the car accident,” he added. “That’s why I was so distracted that night. I was stressed to the hilt.”

Well, that made me feel kind of bad for him. A little. But I was still pissed. “I just wish you’d told me. It would have been better coming from you from the start. And it makes it look like our relationship isn’t solid when I didn’t know something so important.”

“No, it makes it look like we have better things to do than to discuss her bullshit. She put me through months of hell, Ryan. I don’t really like to talk about that time period,” he said with a sigh. “It’s hard for me to even admit that, because I think it makes me sound weak—that a girl could terrorize me so badly.”

“Terrorize? What do you mean?”

“She basically stalked me for half of last year.”

The allegation surprised me; stalk was a strong word and generally, Ethan wasn’t one to exaggerate.

“She did?”

“Calls and texts morning, noon, and night. I had to change my phone number twice. And last spring, she managed to register herself in one of my electives, so I was forced see her three times a week.”

I shook my head in disbelief. Running into Levi occasionally at the hospital following our breakup had been bad enough. Fortunately, I hadn’t been forced to actually work alongside him.

“She broke into my email a few times, too, before I wised up and enabled two-step authentication. And remember when she claimed I was using steroids?”

Thanksgiving last year. I nodded.

“Not to mention the whole To the Letter disaster with you,” he sighed. “Maybe it’s a little superstitious of me, but I just feel as though talking about her is like poking a bear. Tempting fate or something,”

“Still, Ethan,” I said, raising my eyebrows as if to say you should have known better.

“I’ve just been trying to put it all behind me. Behind us.”

“Is there anything else I don’t know? Did you guys elope or anything? Are you legally married right now?”

He shot me a withering look. “I can appreciate that you’re upset but try to understand where I’m coming from. Epic double betrayal by your close friend and girlfriend, followed by ugly breakup, followed by your now-ex-girlfriend turning into a complete psychopath. I don’t like to take trips down that memory lane.”

Okay. I could see his point. A little. I still saw my point more.

“Last spring, she called a locksmith and somehow talked her way into getting access to my place; I found her in my bed, naked. I almost had to call the cops because she wouldn’t leave.”

What the hell? I knew she was crazy, but I didn’t know the crazy ran so deep. Should I be watching my back? Sleeping with one eye open? Getting that guard dog sooner rather than later?

“All the more reason you should have told me! Jesus, Ethan. Did you ever think about a restraining order?”

“ I did look into it. But they’re harder to get than you’d think,” he said. “She never threatened physical harm or got violent with me, even with the whole breaking-and-entering thing. Plus, the fact that I’m a guy seems to set the bar for that kind of thing higher. People don’t take it seriously when you’re complaining about a girl half your size who just won’t take no for an answer.”

It was hard to imagine a big, intimidating guy like him being harassed by a girl. But I supposed that the psychological component of it could go a long way; finding someone in your home would be incredibly creepy.

“Yeah. That seems a little unfair.”

He said quietly, “You know me, Ryan. In spite of everything else, I still would have been there for her if it had come to that. I mean, I wouldn’t have been with her, but I wouldn’t have left her high and dry. But thankfully, it never did come to that.”

“Are you sure there’s no love child wandering around out there?” I asked him skeptically.

“Positive. I saw more of Alexis than I wanted to in the months following. That recent Tinder blip aside, it’s been pretty smooth sailing lately and I was hoping it would stay that way.”

“You and me both,” I sighed, playing with the corner of a gray throw pillow. “But one way to ensure smooth sailing is to avoid unpleasant surprises.”

“It was in the past, Ryan. We don’t talk about your exes, either. And I don’t want to.”

“Well, there’s only one ex and he didn’t get me pregnant. No illegitimate children you need to worry about.”

His face clouded over at the mention of Levi and, presumably, the implied reference to us having sex. “I didn’t get anyone pregnant, either. Don’t tell me you actually buy that now that I’ve told you the whole story.”

“It helps to have the whole story to begin with,” I pointed out, the tone sharper than I had intended.

“You’re right. It does,” he admitted. He was silent for a moment and we sat there, staring at each other in some kind of uneasy ceasefire.

He added, “But you know, if the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t hold it against you if you were reluctant to disclose something like that. Like if you’d had an abortion before we were together. I might be hurt that you didn’t tell me, but I would try to understand.”

I nodded, chewing on my lower lip. It seemed like a fair point, but I couldn’t shake the nagging belief that it was wrong for him to withhold this information from me.

One minute we were daydreaming about marriage and the next, a massive bomb went off in my face. If I hadn’t known about this, what else could he be hiding?

Fatigue creeped in, muddying my thoughts. I didn’t want to fight anymore, but I wasn’t ready to forgive him.

“Look, I just need some time, okay? I’m going to call Iz and stay at her place tonight.”

His face fell; it ripped my heart wide open. “Ryan, don’t. Please, don’t.”

After everything that had happened lately, the last thing I wanted—the last thing I expected—was to be sitting here, inches away and yet miles apart, like all those times before. I’d given him all of me, but he still hadn’t let me in.

“It’s not like that. But space will do the both of us good right now,” I said. “I just need some time to think.” With shaking hands, I grabbed my phone and headed for the stairs to pack a few things in an overnight bag.

“I don’t want you to go, but I can’t stop you,” he said sadly as I walked away.

CHAPTER FORTY

Ethan

I rolled over to put my arm around Ryan, but there was an empty spot where she should have been. Then I remembered she was at Isabelle’s after the catastrophe that was last night. A pang of loneliness hit me.

I used to love having the bed to myself. I used to say that I slept better alone. But now I wished Ryan here was beside me, sprawled diagonally, hogging three-quarters of the space like she always did. She denied that she did, but we both knew it was true. And these days, that was how I slept best.

Part of me wondered whether I should have tried harder to stop her from leaving last night, but I didn’t want to back her into a corner emotionally and make the situation worse. Giving her the time and space to cool off seemed like a better bet.

I hoped—prayed—that I had been right.

The door opened and slammed shut downstairs. Ryan. I leaped out of bed, running down the staircase in nothing but my boxers. She stood in the entry, circles under her eyes, and gave me a tired smile. I wanted to go over and kiss her, but I wasn’t sure whether she wanted me to.

“Hey,” I said nervously.

The microwave clock read 7:32. I wasn’t sure why she had come back so early in the morning. Had she decided she was willing to forgive me, or was she here to drop the hammer? Please, don’t let it be the second one.

“Hey.”

Adrenaline flooded my body and words started pouring out of me. “I’m sorry. I missed you last night. And this morning. I just woke up and I was going to go over to Isabelle’s after I showered. I should have—”

She cut me off. “It’s okay, Ethan. I thought about it last night and I understand why you didn’t tell me before. I know it’s hard for you to talk about things sometimes.”

“But I thought about it too, and I see your point.”

I did. I hated talking about the past, but I couldn’t pretend that it had never happened. And my failure to disclose things meant that Ryan had gotten hurt. I should have known by now that stuffing things inside never helped.

“We can agree to agree, then,” Ryan said with a little shrug. “We’re both sorry and we both forgive each other.”

“Deal. But I really do feel bad that you were blindsided like that,” I said as I walked over to her, wrapping my arms around her and sniffing the rosemary-mint scent of her hair. She sighed, nestling into my chest.

All was right in my world again.

“It’s okay. I just need to know we’ll be honest and open with each other from here on out.”

“We will. I will. One hundred percent. I’ll even tell you things you don’t want to know.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Um, detailed explanations as to why Die Hard is the best movie ever? Hockey stats you don’t even remotely care about? Play-by-plays of burping contests at the hockey house, including who won and the rationale as to why?”

She giggled, her shoulders shaking slightly. “Gross.”

“I’ll just take a cue from Axel,” I said, “and pretend that I don’t have a filter at all.”

“Oh, god,” she said with a laugh. “I guess I opened that Pandora’s box myself.”

“Sure did.”

“But if we are being honest and open, I have to admit that I’ve been freaking out a bit lately,” she mumbled.

Crap. I had gotten carried away and pushed things too far. I knew it. “Why?” I asked, hedging on some slim chance that wasn’t the case.

“I don’t know. Just, everything,” Ryan said, trailing off as she avoided making eye contact. “Now I’m the one who can’t talk about things,” she added with a laugh.

“I’m sorry about those marriage comments. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I can cool it with that,” I said, embarrassed.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s kind of the opposite. I like when you talk about those things. But then I get scared that it won’t happen. That I’ll get my hopes up, and you’ll change your mind,” she said, looking up at me and biting her lip nervously.

Change my mind? I did stupid things from time to time, but I wasn’t a total idiot. I knew what I had and how lucky I was.

I rubbed her back, trying not to let my mind wander to other, naughtier places as it tended to whenever I touched her. “I’m not going anywhere. Believe me. All I did last night was toss and turn in bed, thinking about you. I’m a wreck and that was after nine hours apart.”

It was true. Being on the road was one thing; I still missed Ryan, but we were apart for a good reason when I was away for hockey. Trying to sleep without her in our bed, however, was all kinds of wrong. I may have used her pillow instead of mine because it smelled like her. But no one needed to know that. It felt a little creepy.

“Same here. Well, Isabelle’s pull-out couch didn’t help, either. I had a horrible sleep,” she sighed.

“That’s because you were supposed to be home with me.”

Her mouth found mine and for a moment, nothing else existed. I grabbed her around the waist with one hand, pulling her closer. We melted into each other in a blur of lips and tongue and hands. Now my mind was definitely traveling to all kinds of naughty places.

“You know, I can imagine my life without hockey. I mean, I don’t want to—but I can. But I can’t imagine my life without you,” I murmured.

“I can’t either. So, let’s just say that won’t happen,” she whispered. “Ever.”

“It won’t,” I said, squeezing her.

“Oh god, I’m tired.” She yawned. “I think I got maybe five hours of sleep. Maybe some food would help. Are you hungry?”

“A little,” I said. But not in the way she meant.

She thought for a minute. “What do you want? Waffles?”

“Hmm. Nah.”

“Bacon and eggs?”

“I was thinking something else,” I said as I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder.

She shrieked with laughter. “Ethan, Put me down! I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.”

“We already kissed,” I pointed out, climbing up the stairs. “It’s too late now. The morning breath seal has been broken.”

“What about breakfast?”

“You are breakfast.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Ryan

Ethan leaned against the doorframe to our room and knocked gently. “All set, babe?”

“Just about.” I crammed in one last pair of socks into my bag, leaning against the bulging flap to close the zipper. It took some convincing to coax it shut, but I finally prevailed. Even if it did look like it was about to burst right back open.

He raised his eyebrows as he surveyed my luggage—a full-sized purple suitcase, a

hot pink nylon gym bag and my usual pebbled gray leather purse. A stark contrast to his one, moderately full brown suede duffle.

I gave him my best innocent look, tilting my head and batting my eyelashes. “What?”

“Are you sure you packed enough? I think you might need some more clothes,” he said with a smirk. “I mean, ten tank tops, countless pairs of shorts and five pairs of shoes can’t possibly be enough for six days.”

Men just didn’t understand.

“Girls have more stuff to deal with. You don’t have to pack makeup or hair styling products. My blow-dryer takes up a ton of space.”

“To be fair, you don’t need any of that either.”

“You’re sweet, but you’re a liar. Besides, I let you talk me into taking the truck. Now there’s plenty of cargo space, and I intend to use it.”

“I think you packed more for this one-week trip than you brought with you when you moved in,” Ethan grumbled, hoisting up the bags and carrying them down the stairs. “I even saw you throw in two of your enormous hardcover books. When do you even think you’ll have the time to read both of them?”

In my defense, the books were part of a trilogy I was currently obsessed with. I’d just devoured the first one, and after a huge twist at the end, I was dying to find out what happened. With a love triangle in the making, I couldn’t leave the books behind and wonder for a whole week. Did the heroine end up with the straight-laced, good-natured prince, or the dark and mysterious duke? I simply had to know. I was, of course, Team Duke.

Plus, books were a great escape from real life. One that I hoped I wouldn’t need but might if this trip to meet my mom went sideways. My throat tightened.

“I might be a little nervous,” I admitted, following behind him down the staircase. “And overpacking to compensate.”

He set the bags down on the landing and turned to look at me, his gaze tender. “Hey, it’ll be fine. More than fine. It’ll be great,” he said, wrapping me in a hug.

I sighed, and the turmoil within me settled. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

***

I climbed into the driver’s seat of Ethan’s truck, adjusting the seat position and fastening my seat belt. Even with the seat all the way forward, I could barely see over the hood. And now, I had to drive this beast.

I threw the truck into reverse and edged out of the parking stall at a snail’s pace. I slammed on the brakes in a panic; the truck was too high, and I couldn’t see whether anything was behind me. I could tell Ethan was biting his tongue to stop himself from backseat driving.

“Ethan, this is brutal. I feel like I’m driving a monster truck.” I let off the brake to coast backwards again. Idle, idle, brake.

The prospect of driving this overgrown gas guzzler anywhere was terrifying. I was certain I was going to hit someone or something. Trying to get out of this poorly lit, cramped parking stall wasn’t helping my confidence level, either.

He chuckled. “Don’t you think you’re being a little bit dramatic? You’re just not used to it yet.”

“I feel like I could run over something right now and not even realize it.”

“You’re doing okay, babe. Just use the backup camera,” he said, as if that should be obvious. “You got this.”

Right. That would make a lot of sense—use the full-color screen in the center of the console, with a view behind the truck as well as a 360-degree view from all sides. If I wasn’t so nervous, that probably would have occurred to me.

Okay, so maybe newer vehicles had some nice bells and whistles.

“And since you’re driving, I get to pick the music,” he said, plugging his phone into the charger. “I made a playlist last night for this very occasion.”

I reversed again, finally succeeding in exiting the parking stall. Now to conquer the parkade.

“I don’t think so, pal. The driver picks the music. Time for some Selena Gomez.”

Ethan made a face.

“Justin Bieber?” I offered.

He made an even worse face. “Injury card?”

“You’re the worst,” I laughed. “But since your taste in music is better than your taste in movies, I’ll let it slide. As long as you don’t subject me to country music like Isabelle always does whenever we go places.”

“That definitely won’t be a problem. No twang here,” he said, turning the playlist to a Jack Johnson song. “And we can take turns picking the music.”

“So, are you nervous?” I asked him casually as I signaled to turn out of the parkade onto the street. Ethan rarely ever was, and he always hid it well.

“Nah. It’ll be okay,” he said, looking out the window. His tone was calm, and he seemed like his usual, confident self. But then he paused and turned to me, his blue eyes wide. “Right? I mean, I do want your mother to like me.”

Apparently, he was a little more nervous than he wanted to let on. It was cute, though, and a needless worry—everyone liked Ethan. I was sure she would, too.

“Right. She’ll like you, I’m sure of it. After everything that’s happened lately, I think my mom has come around to the idea of us. You’ve been there for me through a lot.”

“You, too. After all, there’s no one else I’d rather have had to nurse me back to health.”

“You were an okay patient, I guess. A little grumpy at times. And a little handsy.”

He grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Can’t blame me for that. Look at you.”

Winding my way through town, I headed for the four-lane highway that would take us west. As I adjusted to handling the truck, my nerves eased; it wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. But I didn’t admit that to Ethan. We sat quietly, listening to the music for a while as I drove.

I broke the silence after a few minutes on the highway. “My mom’s not difficult or anything like that. I hope I didn’t give you the wrong idea. She’s just protective of me. And it was a bit of a shock to her, the way our relationship came about.”

“I get that. It was a bit of a shock to me, too,” he said with a crooked smile, putting his hand on my thigh. My heart fluttered in response. This sort of bodily contact could be dangerous while I was trying to operate an army tank.

“Though, I did think you were hot from day one,” he admitted sheepishly. “Maybe I was just in denial when I thought I could stay away from you.”

“I thought you were pretty cute, too.” That was an understatement. I remember drooling over him more than a bit.

He studied me, mouth quirking at the corners. “You hid that well.”

“Really? I don’t know about that,” I laughed. “I think that part was obvious to most people. Certainly, all of your friends knew.”

“They took so long to clue me in, too,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes.

I added, “But you surprised me. I didn’t expect to fall for you in all of the other ways. I figured it was just a passing physical attraction to some stereotypical jock.”

My first impression had been so off base that it was almost embarrassing. I genuinely thought he was going to be some flaky womanizer. It seemed silly, now that I knew him, and knew that was the opposite of what he was really like.

“Ouch. Jock? I was right. You were just using me for my body.”

“Eh, only at first. How else was I going to get that Christmas tree upstairs?” I shrugged.

“You know, you could use me right now, if you wanted to. Maybe we could take a little detour out into the country.”

I rolled my eyes. Always angling for sex. But it was flattering, at least. I didn’t mind being wanted all the time by Ethan, even if it did occasionally make us late or result in burned cookies because we forgot them in the oven.

“Tempting offer but seeing how we’re only about twenty minutes into a seven-hour drive, I say we stick a pin in that idea for now,” I said, signaling to switch lanes. I shoulder-checked three times, just in case there was a compact car lurking that I was about to accidentally flatten.

“Does that mean maybe later?”

“That’s a hard maybe.” I was trying to sound flirty, but I wasn’t even sure what a “hard maybe” was. Would that be probable or unlikely?

“Better than a no,” he said with a wink, then looking out onto the road. “See? You seem more comfortable now that we’re out on the highway. It isn’t so bad, is it?”

“I guess.” I sighed dramatically. “But it’s no Sheila.”

“Trust me, once you get used to being higher off the ground, you’ll never go back.”

“We’ll see,” I said, scrunching my nose. “Maybe if we trade in my car and put that toward something, at least. I can’t just freeload off you.”

“It’s not freeloading if we’re a team,” he chided me. “I hope you know that by now, Ry.”

“But you have all the money. What do I contribute?”

I mean, I had some money. About two hundred and fourteen dollars to my name, to be exact. And a staggeringly large negative net worth when you factored in all my student loans. My father had said he would pay those off, but that still seemed too good to be true.

“Hmm, well, I love you, so there’s that. You make awesome pancakes. Your massages are second-to-none. Plus, the holidays are way more fun with you.”

“It’s true, you were a Grinch before me.”

He looked up and stroked his chin, pretending to think. “What else? I like your girly decorating stuff around the condo, but this is the only time you’ll ever hear me admit that. And of course, we have mind-blowing sex,” he declared.

“I contribute sex?” I giggled. “That last part makes me sound like a hooker.”

“My hooker,” he said affectionately.

Ethan so rarely misspoke that I found it endearing how he flubbed it from time to time when he was trying to be smooth. Even though he always tried to recover with mixed results.

“Remember how women don’t like to be called cute? Let’s add hooker to that list, too,” I said with a chuckle.

“Not even in a classy, Pretty Woman type of roleplay scenario?”

“Another hard maybe.”

“Really…?”

***

Ryan

Three hundred miles to go.

I climbed into the passenger side, cardboard beverage tray in hand while Ethan stood outside, adjusting the driver’s side seat. He couldn’t get into the vehicle at all with the way I had set it.

“Are you sure you feel up to driving?”

“I think so. For a little bit, anyway. And actually, the, uh, team trainer called me this morning,” he blurted out as he slid in, pulling the door shut. I could tell that he’d been trying to think of a way to tell me about this. “I can start easing back in. No hockey yet, but some one-on-one training.”

“That’s great. I’m happy for you.” And I was. It did worry me, a little, but I couldn’t control what he did. I didn’t want to, either; hockey was a part of his life and I could accept that. He would be happier playing again.

Relief washed over his face. “Really?”

“Really. I told you I would support whatever you decided to do. I know you’ll be careful.”

“Extra careful. And if anything happens, we can revisit the issue, okay? I’m not going to take any stupid risks.”

I reached over and gave his leg a squeeze. “I know, babe.”

“Gas station tea isn’t so bad,” I added, taking another sip of my Earl Grey. “I don’t know why that comes as a surprise to me. It’s just water and a tea bag. Seems hard to get that wrong.”

“Really? Well, you’re lucky, because this gas station coffee is bad,” Ethan said. “It’s just water and coffee beans, but something definitely went wrong.” He took another sip and grimaced.

“Then why do you keep drinking it?” I laughed.

He shrugged as he pulled out of the gas station parking lot back onto the road. “I need the caffeine fix. Kind of like how I need a Ryan fix, actually. And you know, we are in the middle of nowhere. How’s that maybe looking?”

***

Two hundred and eighty-seven miles to go.

“Okay, no more stops,” I said, readjusting my bra and straightening my tank top. Ethan eyed me, amusement across his face. “What?”

“It’s just… your hair.”

I pulled down the visor and flipped open the mirror. Oh, god. I had sex hair. Total sex hair.

“Crap!” I reached for my purse and rifled through it, finally emerging with an elastic. “No hope of fixing that here. I guess I’ll have to settle for a messy bun today.”

“I kind of like knowing I did that.”

“Of course you do. I think you’re a bad influence,” I said, raking my fingers through my tangled hair before gathering it into a twist and securing it with an elastic. Now it looked like gym hair, which I supposed was preferable to sex hair. Parentally passable, at least.

“Wasn’t it worth it?” The engine came to life with a roar as he started the ignition.

Oh, yes. And then some. “You know it was,” I said, fixing my smudged mascara in the mirror.

***

Two hundred miles to go.

“Do you really want five kids?” I asked, watching Ethan’s reaction while he drove.

He smiled and shrugged, drumming the steering wheel along to the beat of the music. “We can take it as it comes.”

“That sounds more reasonable to me.”

“And they’ll come one after the other. One, two, three, four, five. Easy.”

“You’re impossible.”

***

One hundred and twenty-five miles to go.

All that gas station tea caught up to me, causing us to deviate from my previous no-more-stops declaration. Ethan reached over to change the song on his phone as I climbed back into the driver’s side after using the rest stop bathroom.

I gently touched his hand and said, “Babe, I love you. And I like Jack Johnson well enough. But if we don’t turn some more upbeat music on soon, I am going to relax myself to sleep and drive right off the road.”

“Fair enough. Does Spotify have a Cheesy Pop playlist I can put on for your listening pleasure?”

“Very funny. Top Hits will do just fine, thank you very much.”

“You say my taste in movies is bad, but I’m not sure your taste in music is much better.”

“It could be worse.”

“How so?”

I grinned. “Could be Christmas music.”

“Let’s make an agreement to limit that to December.”

“Add in the last week of November and you have yourself a deal,” I said. “Plus, I’ve heard you singing ‘Love Yourself’ in the shower. You might pretend to hate it, but you’re totally a secret Bieber fan.”

“No comment.”

***

Twenty miles to go.

We passed a highway marker sign just as the sun started to dip behind the horizon, setting the sky awash in gold, orange, and magenta.

“Almost there. Another twenty minutes or so until we hit town. And you were right. This trip was a good idea,” I said. I didn’t feel nervous anymore, just a calm sense that everything was as it should be.

“It’s been nice not having any other distractions,” Ethan said with a nod. “I love getting to be alone with you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. “I almost don’t want the drive to be over. I kind of liked it—just you, me, and the road.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Avery Keelan is a writer of college sports romance & adult romance, a gym addict, and a diehard coffee lover. Her stories contain swoon-worthy happily ever afters with lovable characters, snarky banter, and enough steam to fog up a mirror. Plus, of course, a hefty dose of drama and angst along the way. When not writing, she’s spending time with her family, reading, or enjoying the great Canadian outdoors.

ABOUT

W BY WATTPAD BOOKS

Launched in 2022, W by Wattpad Books publishes contemporary adult fiction novels featuring themes of romance, family, friendship, and personal growth. Leveraging Wattpad’s global community of 94 million readers and data-backed insights, each list will feature appealing, modern, and diverse stories written by bold new voices. Each story comes with a built-in, excited fan base who feel a deep sense of connection to their favorite writers.

W novels are stories you won’t be able to put down—and can’t wait to read again.

Table of Contents

Copyright page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREEE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ABOUT W BY WATTPAD BOOKS