"Ry..."Three dots pop up and disappear a couple of times. Finally:"You can't hide forever."
The words hit harder than they should. Because he's right. I am hiding. From the team, from Jamie, and from myself. The same way I have sinceNick died. Since I first realized I was different.
Another notification pops up, Jamie's liked some comment on the team thread.Justseeing his name makes my stomach clench, remembering how his voice soundedthatnight."Let me see you, Ry. Want to watch you feel good..."
Heat floods my face. This is why I can't be around him right now. Because every time I see him, I remember how it felt to finally let someone in. To be seen. To be wanted.
And let myself want him back.
The sock drawer stands half-open, all my careful organization mocking me. Dad's finding the courage to change. The team's finding its rhythm. Jamie's finding his place here in Seattle.
And here I am. Stuck. Caught between who I've always been and who I could be. If I was brave enough to try.
My perfectly organized apartment is suffocating. All my careful routines and precise arrangements are nothing more than walls I've built to keep people out. To keep myself in.
Dad's doing the work. Truly attempting to change.
And I'm still here, pretending I don't watch Jamie during practice. Pretending I don't remember every detail ofthatnight in San Diego. And again on our Facetime call. Pretending I'm not falling for him.
Maybe Louis is right. Maybe I can't hide forever.
But tonight I'm going to lie here in my bed, all alone, and wonder if I'll ever be brave enough to let myself have what I want.
Chapter 25
JAMIE
"East Coast swing!"Charlie crows with his usual enthusiasm when I walk into the private terminal."Ten days on the road, boys! Anyone up for cards? It's a long flight to Boston."
My stomach twists at the thought of playing in my hometown. Mom's already texting about dinner plans, and while I love my family, they can be a bit… much. I guess it will be nice to see them, but I'm preoccupied as fuck right now.
"Pirelli?"Charlie's voice breaks through my thoughts."Cards?"
"Sure,"I manage, risking a glance at Rylan. He's focused on the phone in his hand, but I catch the slight flush creeping up his neck.
It's been more thantwo freaking weeks. Two weeks of watching him rebuild his walls brick by careful brick. Two weeks of pretending that night on the phone didn't change a thing between us.
Oh, he's beenperfectlyprofessional. He's all"good work, Pirelli"while he keeps his distance, making sure we're neveralone together. On the ice, we're still magic. Off the ice, well, let's just say I could tell youexactlyhow many feet he keeps between us at all times.
And now we're going to be sharing hotel rooms for the next twelve days.
Fuck. Me. Sideways.
The hotel room door clicks shut behind us. After six hours of relentless turbulence—both atmospheric and emotional—we all agreed to skip dinner and just order room service. Even Charlie was too rattled to push for group bonding.
Rylan moves through the room with that precise efficiency I've gotten so familiar with, but there's something different about him. He'sprobablystill rattled from the flight. Shit, even I'm rattled, and I'm not a nervous flier. But his usual perfect control seems... frayed.
"You can shower first,"he says, not meeting my eyes as he unpacks his suitcase. His voice is strained, like he's working too hard to keep it steady.
"Rylan."His name comes out rougher than I intended."We have to talk about this."
He freezes. "About what?"
"You know what."his shoulders tense as I step closer."About how you'vebarelylooked at me since that night on Facetime."
"Jamie..." he whispers hoarsely. "I can't..."
"Can't what?"Another step."Can't talk about it? Can't acknowledge that something is going on between us?"
