He arches an eyebrow. “Mm, sorry, but you can’t knock anybody’s accessory preferences when you’re rocking butterfly clips.”
I’ve missed him so much. “I can’t believe you’re here. How did you…When…?”
Ryan’s gaze travels across the rink, and I don’t have to follow his eyes to understand. Penn made sure he got here. Of course he did. He knows exactly how to look out for me.
I’ve never been taken care of like this, not even by myself. I used to think I did a pretty good job at looking out for myself, but now I’m not sure I’ve been going about it the right way.
“I thought Penn might have been calling to tell me he’d murdered you,” Ryan jokes, his grin inching up. “Or that you’d attempted to axe him and I had to bail you out of jail.”
“Close,” I say, laughing.
His smile fades, his expression turning thoughtful as he asks, “Why didn’t you ask me to come yourself? You know I’d want to be here.”
“I didn’t want to bother you.” I shrug. “I just wanted you to live it up in Italy.”
“Oh, believe me, I did,” he says. “But I would never want to miss this.”
I nod, remembering what Penn told me on my birthday, back in reality:Let your brother live a little, will you?At the time, I was offended, and as recently as last week, the thought of being too far away from Ryan left me ill. Here, though, I’ve had no choice but to loosen my grip. And still, he’s been fine. We both have. So, maybe it isn’t just my brother who needs to live a little. It’s me, too. I can’t keep holding on to so manyshoulds.
“I’m really glad you came,” I say, leaning in to him. “Thank you.”
Ryan nods toward the rink. “It’s really something, Ruby. I’m proud of you. I was so proud of you when you launched, but I’m even prouder to see how hard you work to keep it all going.”
The tears I’ve been holding back spill over. “Warn me next time you plan to go full afternoon special on me, will you?”
“No way.” He grins. “I like seeing you blubber.”
“I’m not blubbering.”
He cracks another joke, but I miss it, distracted by Penn’s presence across the rink. He’s talking to Claire, one of my favorite servers, and I don’t realize I’m staring until Ryan snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”
As heat rushes to my cheeks, Ryan’s eyes ping-pong between me and Penn. “Why are you looking at him like that? What happened while I was gone?”
I glance at Penn again, and this time, he’s staring back. Looking at me the way he has a million times, with a smirk and a steady gaze. The difference is, now I know what it means. The weight it’s always carried.
“Oh, you know,” I say airily. “The same thing that always happens with us. We’ve been at each other’s throats.”
“You two,” Ryan says, shaking his head.
I nod. “Us two,” I repeat, and I send up those two words like a prayer.
Or a wish.
21
The Lov-ers
“Couples’ skate!” Theobellows. “This one’s for the lov-ers.”
I stand alone at the snack bar, and, looking around, I don’t see Penn. Or Bridget. Or Ryan. My brother deserted me a long time ago, ostensibly to get skates, but knowing him, he’s somewhere exchanging numbers and deep-seated traumas with a stranger.
My shoulders slump as I down a kiwi-strawberry Snapple, and before I close it, I flip over the lid to read my Snapple fact:Mangoes can get sunburned. I show the cap to the teenage boy leaning on the counter beside me, and he meets my eyes with a dead stare.
A low point—one soundtracked by Maroon 5, no less.
I carry a pack of Gushers to a nearby table to wallow in peace. Although my conversation with Sloane felt like a sure victory, I’m stumped on what to do next. And even with so much of Lakeville showing up tonight, and my brother flying across the world to be here, I feel achingly alone.
I love so much about this place, but it isn’t enough. Because it isn’t real.
