Rylan's phone buzzes yet again. He snatches it up, shoulders tensing as he reads whatever's on the screen. The phone disappears into his pocket, but his hand stays there, gripping it like it might explode.
I want to ask if he's okay, but I don't want to push too hard. Besides, Austin's still hovering nearby, radiating protective energy like a guard dog.
Through the open door, Louis's voice carries from the media room, smooth and practiced:"Yeah,obviouslynot the result we wanted, but it's preseason. We have time to work out the kinks and build chemistry with the new guys. That's what these games are for."
Charlie tries again:"Seriouslythough, this poutine place. Open till 2 AM."
Rylan's phone buzzes again. This time he doesn't bother to check it, just closes his eyes for a moment, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. When he opens them, they meet minebrieflybefore darting away.
My fingers itch to grab that phone, to see what's got him so wound up. But that's not my place.
Louis's voice floats in again:"Yeah, Pirelli and Collings showed some great chemistry. That's something we can build on."
The roomgraduallyempties as the guys finish changing. Louis returns from media duty, giving Tanner an encouraging pat on the back before heading to his stall. Through it all, Rylan hasn't moved, still sitting on the benchin his base layers.
I take my time arranging my gear since the bus won't leave for another twenty minutes. Rylan'susuallythe first one packed and ready, but tonight he'sbarelystarted undressing.
When his phone buzzes again, something shifts in his expression. A crack in that perfect control. His fingers trembleslightlyas he pulls it from his pocket, and this time what he reads makes him inhalesharply.
I take a step toward him, concern overriding my hesitation. But Louis catches my eye, giving the smallest shake of his head.
Austin materializes between us, all business as he starts discussing tomorrow's travel schedule, his body blocks my view of Rylan. His voice iscarefullysteady. It's almost like he's trying to ground Rylan in the present moment.
Charlie appears at my elbow."So, poutine?"
"Yeah, maybe,"I saydistractedly. I can't stop watching Rylan's reflection in the mirror across the room. His shoulders are hunched, and his movements have lost their usual precision as hefinallystarts removing his gear.
Louis brushes past me, bumping my shoulder hard enough to get my attention. When I look at him, he tilts his head toward the door. A clear message: Give him space.
Right. Space. Even though every instinct screams to do the opposite. To push past Austin's wall of protection. To find out what's wrong. To take care of him…
Charlie tugs my arm."Come on, Pirelli. Bus is waiting."
Chapter 10
RYLAN
The door clicks shut behind me as Jamie and I walk back into our room. Charlie was trying to convince everyone to go to some late-night poutine joint, but I'm not in the mood.
My dad has been calling and texting me nonstop, but I did my fucking duty already by calling him earlier. Today would have been Nick's birthday. He's been gone eighteen years, and it never fucking gets easier.
I take off my suit jacket and hang it in the closet, ready to go for the flight tomorrow. Dress shirt, underwear, and socks go into my laundry bag. I double-check that my shirt and tie for tomorrow are pressed and ready. Everything in its place.
Jamie moves around the room with his usual casual grace, humming some pop song under his breath. His tie lands on the desk chair. His dress shoes get kicked off near the window, one standing, one flipped over.
The chaos of his existence should irritate me, but for some reason I can't understand, the way he fills up the space in my normally empty hotel room is almost… soothing.
My phone vibrates against the nightstand. Again.
My hands start trembling—fight or flight kicking in. If I don't answer, he'lljustkeep calling and texting, so I should get it over with. My pulse pounds in my throat. Ireallydon't want to pick it up, but there's no way to avoid what's coming.
It keeps buzzing. Jamie's humming stops.
The thought of my dad alone inthathouse, probably sitting in his old armchair with a bottle nearby, makes my chest tight.
The phone keeps vibrating like it knows I can't ignore it. Like it knows I never could.
The screen blurs as I swipe to answer."Hey, Dad."
