“What are you talking about?” I croaked out.
“My sister doesn’t miss my fucking games. She’s not here. Why the fuck not?” He pushed against me harder and gritted his teeth.
“She’s not at the game?” I repeated, like an idiot. I’d forced myself not to search for her in the stands. Thinking she was there calmed me, but I never confirmed it. His worry and anger reached into my chest and fisted my heart into a pulp. “Wait… why isn’t she here?”
“I don’t know, J.D. The only reason would be your dumb ass.” He let go of me, hissed, and stomped a few feet down the hall. “Did you not work it out? Did you dump her because of the team? I’m not going to fuck up your future on the ice because my sister loves you. So if you ended it because of that… well, you’re a fucking moron then.”
He gave me a disgusted look, his lip curled up on one side, before marching further away into the locker room. The twins watched with mild amusement before joining him. They had no idea the turmoil and rush of emotions paralyzing me to that spot. His words were like hot flames branding my skin.
My sister loves you.
Ryann loves me.
She loves me.
The notion made me breathless. The happy, beautiful girl who carved her way into my goddamn soul loved me—and like a chickenshit, I’d avoided her.
It’s nothing.The words she said to Michael sent me into a tizzy, but he wouldn’t have said that unless she told him, right?
“Reiner,” I barked out, making him and a few other teammates look at me. “She told you that?”
He shook his head and pinched his nose. “I hate everything about this. Not getting involved even the slightest, dude.”
That was unhelpful.
Our coach didn’t give us any more time to talk, and he came in hot, screaming about ways we could tie the game and amp up our offense. Normally, I’d soak up every word and make plans in my head that I could enforce on the ice. Tonight was different.
Worry etched its way into my focus, and the longer I thought about it, the more my concern for Ryann grew. My text to her wasn’t great. It was a cop-out because I was pissed at her. She tossed what we were aside when my life came to an explosion, but Michael’s words…she loves meseemed to make all that disappear.
So where the fuck was she?
She wasn’t scheduled to work tonight.
“J.D.!” our coach barked, and I blinked myself back into focus. “Are you even listening? Do you care that you’re not making passes or finding gaps? Jesus.”
“Yes, Coach, I’m listening.” I leaned forward, embarrassed that I let my mind wander.
“Good. You and Patrick—you need to put more pressure on their defenders. That play we ran in practice this week was to prepare us against this team. Now do it.” He went to the white board and drew a couple of lines to show the path he wanted, and I threw myself back into the game.
I’d do my part to help us win, and then I’d find Ryann.
That was the plan, and if I was good at anything, it was following through.
* * *
We won in a shoot-out by Patrick, and the win felt good, better than good. We were 2-0, and the guys were rowdy. The team would be celebrating and enjoying life well into the night, but my mind was set on one thing: Ryann.
I sent her a text the second I could, my fingers fumbling over the phone.
Jonah: Hey where are you? You okay?
Nothing.
I deserved it after I crashed with my dad and left all her texts unanswered. Self-annoyance was awful and unhelpful, but I wished I handled the previous night differently. Then my game would’ve been better, and I wouldn’t have been looking in the stands every chance I got to see if she was there.
Was I too late?
Did I ruin it?
