“Shai,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “You have to stop him.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
TEDDY
"Did you just steal the puck? Seriously, bro, we're supposed to be a team here." Frustration bubbled up as Ryder's move cost us the lead, and I tossed my controller aside, glaring daggers at him and Rowan. "This game is totally rigged."
Pushing myself up from the floor, where I had been lounging against the couch, I shot them both a pointed look. "You guys are such assholes."
Ryder offered a nonchalant shrug. "I thought you were going to lose possession."
"And what do you call what you just did?" I retorted, feeling the competitive edge tugging at my patience.
He leaned over toward Rowan with a conspiratorial grin. "Teddy's always been a sore loser when it comes to video games."
"That's not true," I protested, pointing an accusatory finger at Ryder. "I've just got a lot on my mind, okay?"
Rowan smirked up at me. "Like marriage?"
"What would you know about marriage, kid?" I playfully ruffled his hair, earning a shove in response. "Are you even old enough to date?"
"Hilarious," Rowan shot back, flipping me off.
"I know," I replied with mock seriousness, before letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh.
"You don't have to do it, you know," Ryder said, his expression thoughtful as he glanced my way.
"Do what?" Sydney's voice interrupted as she emerged from the kitchen, a plate of jalapeño-loaded nachos in hand. The smell made my stomach rumble, but before I could reach for one, she pulled the plate out of my grasp.
"Not for you," she declared, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Protectively, she hugged the plate close, shooting a warning look at Ryder.
"You're the best little sister ever," I teased, attempting to sneak a chip, only to be thwarted again.
Sydney's gaze turned playful as she hugged the nachos closer. "Sorry, bro. These are off-limits to all boys tonight."
Eating nachos during game day might not have been the wisest choice, but then again, neither was lounging around playing video games. I had skipped my usual post-skate nap, opting instead for the latest hockey video game. Soon enough, my roommates had joined me, turning it into a competitive afternoon.
I couldn't help but notice Ryder's relaxed approach lately, his routines and rituals slipping as he approached the end of his hockey career. It was something I secretly envied—the freedom to skip workouts and indulge in junk food without consequence.
I was on the verge of cracking, the weight of everything pushing down on me. Part of me just wanted to pack up and disappear, hop on a plane to anywhere, no destination, no purpose. I just needed to get away.
My life had become an endless cycle of one thing—this sport. Training schedules, tournaments, scouts. It was all I knew. And while I loved it, loved the rush of the game, the thrill of victory, I was so damn tired.
I needed space. A moment alone. So, I made my way to the kitchen, hoping for some semblance of order, but it was chaos.
There were two kinds of corn chips scattered across the counter, bags of cheese—cheddar, Swiss, Monterey Jack—piled like some sort of strange mountain. Tomatoes and jalapeños, half-empty cans of refried beans, even a tub of sour cream. Sydney, the tornado that she was, had clearly been in here. But then again, I couldn’t exactly claim to be any better. We were raised in a strict household, but now? Now, we lived like our own rules had been erased.
I started assembling the mess, piling chips and cheese and beans onto a plate with a kind of mindless rhythm. I set it in the microwave and watched as the plate spun. My thoughts drifted, floating in and out like the turning of the plate.
Rowan hadn’t been wrong. Marriage was consuming my thoughts. The team wanted me to propose—to make it official, to save Frankie’s career. PR had said it was the only way for her to stay relevant, to keep from being painted as just another player’s girlfriend. But what they didn’t get? I couldn’t let her go. I wouldn’t.
I was addicted to her. To the feel of her hand in mine, to the sound of her laughter, to the way she made me feel like I was the only person in her world. Every part of her called to me.
Love. That was what I felt. I’d never believed in it before, but now? I knew it. Maybe it had been there even before I kissed her, even before I tasted her, because I couldn’t remember a moment when she wasn’t on my mind.
The microwave beeped, but I didn’t move. I didn’t know how long I’d been standing there, staring at nothing, lost in my thoughts. Dreaming of a life with Frankie. A life that would be filled with so much passion, anger, joy, and everything in between. I imagined her voice rising, shouting at me, only for me to swallow it with a kiss.
“Teddy?”
