Now? I'm just annoyed that his engagement is trending when my brand recovery was going so well.
Also, that ring is gaudy as hell, and someone should tell Melissa that princess cuts went out of style in 2015.
My phone buzzes with a call. Ryder.
"Hey," I answer, proud of how steady my voice sounds.
"I saw." His voice is rough, protective. "Jax sent me the screenshot. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Genuinely fine, which is weird." I stare at Chad's stupid engagement photo. "I think I'm more annoyed than hurt."
"That's progress."
"Is it though? Shouldn't I feel... something?" I close my laptop, cutting off Chad's gleaming smile. "We were together for three years. He proposed to someone else three months after we broke up, and all I can think is that his timing is terrible for my rebrand."
Ryder's quiet for a moment, then asks, "Want to learn how to skate?"
"What?"
"You asked to practice being a couple in public. Team practice is in an hour. Come to the rink, I'll teach you to skate, and we'll give people something new to talk about besides your ex's engagement."
"Ryder, you don't have to?—"
"I know. But it'll be fun. Plus, you can't live in Ashwood Falls and not know how to skate. It's like a law or something."
"Pretty sure that's not a real law."
"Come anyway." There's a smile in his voice now. "Unless you're scared."
"I'm not scared. I'm survival-conscious. There's a difference."
"So that's a yes?"
Three months ago, that would've sent me spiraling. Now it's just background noise.
"Yeah," I say. "That's a yes."
An hour later, I'm standing at the edge of the ice rink in borrowed skates that smell faintly of disinfectant, watching the Ashwood Falls Wolves run drills that look like choreographed chaos.
"Look who showed up!" Jax skates over, stopping in a spray of ice that would be impressive if it didn't nearly soak my jeans. "First time skating?"
"First time admitting I can't skate." I grip the boards like they're the only thing between me and certain death. "There's a difference."
"Ryder!" Jax calls across the ice. "Your girl needs lessons!"
Several players look over, and I fight the urge to clarify that I'm not actually "his girl" in any official capacity beyond a mutually beneficial arrangement with clear boundaries.
Ryder glides toward us, making it look effortless, and stops right in front of me. Up close, in full gear, my mouth goes dry. The helmet should make him look ridiculous. It doesn't. Neither does the padding that makes his shoulders impossibly broad or the way he's looking at me like teaching me to skate is the only thing on his schedule today.
I grip the boards tighter.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Absolutely not."
"Perfect. Come on." He offers his hand, and I stare at it like it might bite.
My fingers tighten on the boards until my knuckles go white. "Ryder, I'm going to fall."
