"He wanted to make him proud."
"He did. Dad was so proud of him." She locks her phone, her expression thoughtful. "That's why this whole thing with the NHL is so hard for Ryder. He thinks he has to choose between honoring Dad's memory and living his own life. Like he can't have both."
"What do you think he should do?"
"I think he should stop punishing himself and choose what makes him happy." She looks at me directly. "And I think you might be the first person who makes him want to do that."
My phone sits heavy in my pocket. I can feel the weight of Devon's offer pressing against my thigh, insistent as a bruise.
"Sage," I say carefully. "What would you do if you had to choose between the life you built and the life you stumbled into?"
She tilts her head, considering. "Is the life you built making you happy?"
"It did. Once."
"And the life you stumbled into?"
Ryder's laugh echoing in the cabin. Morning coffee that tastes better when he makes it. Conversations with Dotty who remembers my order. Patrice's bluntness and Tessa's warmth. A town that's embraced me without asking for performance or perfection. A man who sees me—actually sees me—and somehow that's more terrifying than anything I've faced.
"It scares me," I admit.
"Good." Sage grins. "The best things usually do."
My phone buzzes again. A text from Devon with a photo attachment: a mockup of a show poster featuring a professional shot of me from six months ago, overlaid with text:Piper's Alaska: A Fresh Start.
Below it:
Devon: This could be everything. Don't walk away.
I look at the baby photo of Ryder in his too-big fire helmet on Sage's phone, then down at Devon's text promising everything I worked for.
My thumb hovers over the reply button.
Sage is already pulling up another photo, laughing about the time Ryder got his head stuck in the porch railing, and somewhere in the background Dotty is refilling our coffee without asking, and this ordinary moment feels like something I could lose if I'm not careful.
I slide my phone face-down on the table.
"Show me more," I tell Sage.
Chapter 18
Ryder
Sage has rearranged my cabin.
Not just moved a few things around. Full-on interior redesign. The couch faces a different direction. My coffee table is now angled at forty-five degrees for "optimal chi flow." She's moved the rug, shifted the lamp, and somehow convinced my bookshelf that it wanted to live on the opposite wall.
"What the hell did you do?" I ask, standing in the doorway with my gear bag.
"Fixed your energy." Sage doesn't look up from where she's sprawled on my newly positioned couch, scrolling through her phone. "Your furniture was fighting itself. No wonder you've been so tense."
"My furniture was fine."
"Your furniture was giving off divorced-dad-who-owns-one-plate vibes." She finally glances at me. "Now it's giving off functional-adult-with-emotional-range vibes. You're welcome."
"I didn't ask for?—"
My phone buzzes. I pull it out to find a text from Jax in the team group chat.
