Chapter 28

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Ryan finalized everything with the ice centre Thursday at six fifteen after they'd cleaned out their stuff in the locker room and packed up the boxes of gear. They opted to do only a four-day camp the week of Country's wedding, for obvious reasons. Tonight was the bachelor party, and then tomorrow he was taking Amaya to the ranch to help set up for Saturday.

It had nearly killed him to move all of Aelin and Bailey's stuff over to the townhouse. He missed her so much, it was a physical ache. But he had stopped calling or sending text messages a few days ago when it became obvious she wasn't planning to respond.

He didn't understand it. They had grown so close at the lake. But the closer they'd gotten to Calgary, it was like he could see her sealing herself back up. Closing off. Protecting herself. Clark had been the final hammer against the lid.

He just couldn't understand why she felt the need to protect herself from him . Besides acting like a douchebag the first time they met, he'd never treated her poorly or lied to her. He'd connected her with Tyler. Found a way to move her without costing a penny. He'd left flowers and a gift card to Boston Pizza on her table. So why was she treating him like he was the enemy?

He took Amaya out for burgers, then dropped her off with Russ and Laura for the night. They were on babysitting duty all weekend. He was going to pick her up whenever he got his ass out of bed in the morning, take her out to the ranch, and then drop her back off Friday night for another sleepover so he could finish up any last-minute details before the wedding on Saturday.

Polk was still trying to finish the dance floor, and from what Country said, it wasn't looking promising. But Country had a stick up his ass, so he took that with a grain of salt. He couldn't blame him. Country wanted everything to be perfect. If they had to put up with his bitching and moaning for a week, that was a small price to pay for all the good he did for the rest of them.

Tonight, their mission was to help him relax, and that's exactly what they were going to do. First, they were going paintballing. Then they were getting fried chicken sandwiches—Nashville hot—and moving on to the bar. Jenna and Country didn't know it, but they were both going to end up at the same place for drinks. They all knew Country and Jenna well enough to know that the only time they'd be truly relaxed was when they were together.

That gave him hope. Ryan had never understood the idea of a bachelor party. He hadn't had one before his wedding. If you were excited to spend the rest of your life with somebody, why would you need a night to forget it? He had gone shooting with his brother and dad instead.

Ryan showed up at Sean's, and the Snowballs players piled into a party bus. That's what Sean was calling it, but it was actually just the team travel bus. Kelty, Sean's girlfriend, had scrawled words with chalk marker across the windows and set up neon track lights along the inside of the roof. No need for a driver since Tyler and Brett weren't drinking anyway .

It felt like old times. Jack was there, back in town after a training camp with the Blizzard, and Fly showed up with a shirt that read "I Drop Mitts." It felt like a tourney road trip, and by the time the team bus pulled into the parking lot of the paintball centre, Ryan couldn't keep the grin off his face. This was exactly what he needed. A little downtime. A little connection. A little pain.

It was hard to find something that checked all the boxes. Hockey was always the obvious choice. He hoped this was a solid second.

They clown-carred it out of the van and into the parking lot, then strolled into the building.

"Smells like teen spirit in here," Mike quipped, his long dark hair tied back in a ponytail.

Suraj scanned the room. "I came here once trying to impress a girl."

"Did it work?" Ryan asked.

Suraj shook his head. "Turns out, getting welted by paintballs isn't a panty dropper."

They paid their fees and moved to the equipment area where they were handed overalls, masks, and guns. Ryan started suiting up, pulling the camo jumpsuit over his jeans.

They split into two teams. Ryan was with Brett, Fly, Suraj, Mike, and André. The other team consisted of Sean, Tyler, Country, Gary, Boyd, and Jack. Fly strapped on a cup citing old age and a desire to keep his balls unpainted.

They tromped outside and entered the paintball arena, a sprawling field with barricades, barrels, and a wooden fort. In the distance, the Calgary Tower pierced the sky.

The whistle blew, and they scattered. Ryan ducked behind a plywood barrier, peeking out to see Tyler making a break for the fort. He raised his gun and aimed, but a splatter of blue paint exploded inches from his mask.

"Shit!" Ryan ducked back, his heart pounding. He heard a guffaw and turned to run but got nailed in the back by a splat of yellow. He launched himself into a stack of tires.

After righting himself, Ryan fought his way out of the rubber and found Sean and Tyler huddled behind a stack of barrels. He raised his gun and fired, then bolted for better cover with his teammates.

They moved deeper into the arena, dodging paintballs and trying to outflank the other team. He peeked out and saw Mike sprinting across the field. Suraj was hunkered down behind a barrier, his gun aimed and ready. André was nowhere to be seen, probably taking a smoke break, the bastard.

Ryan got a point blank shot on Country, then took two stingers in the thigh. André finally appeared near the fort and Ryan played wingman for an assault on Fly.

When the game finally ended, they were all covered in paint and grinning like idiots. Ryan pulled off his mask, his hair damp with sweat.

Tyler was holding court, showing off a particularly nasty welt on his bicep.

André pulled down his jeans and showed a bruise blooming on his right ass cheek. "Do you think Emma will kiss this better, too?" He laughed, then dodged both Country and Sean.

They piled back into the bus, exhausted and starving.

Brett groaned from the seat behind him. "I think I need to add 'Fly playing paintball' to my hate list."

Fly laughed out loud. "Can't beat you on the ice. I have to take the wins where I can."

Ryan chuckled and pulled out his phone. He didn't know why he kept torturing himself, expecting Aelin's name to pop up on the screen. He put it away and stared out the window.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to their destination, a food truck parked in a lot that was bustling with people even though it was after eight o'clock. The smell of fried chicken and spices wafted through the air, making Ryan's stomach growl. He'd been looking forward to this all day .

The team filed out of the bus, jostling and joking as they made their way to the truck. The menu board boasted Nashville hot chicken sandwiches in varying levels of spice, from "Mild Mannered" to "Hellfire."

Tyler stepped up first. "I'm going Hellfire."

Suraj shook his head. "Mmm. Mild Mannered for me. I need my taste buds intact for date night."

Ryan laughed. "You're not coming to the party?"

Suraj shook his head. "Rashi had a rough week. I need to be home."

Ryan ordered a "Hotter Than Hell" sandwich, figuring he'd go for the middle ground since he was suddenly thinking so hard about Aelin, he felt sick.

They found a spot at a picnic table and dug in. Sean took a bite of his "Blazing Inferno" and immediately turned red. "Holy shit, that's hot."

Ryan laughed. "What did you think it was going to be?"

Sean grabbed his water bottle and took a swig. "I was hoping for a leisurely stroll, not a sprint through Satan's living room."

Brett took a bite of his own sandwich and nodded appreciatively. "This is damn good. Almost makes up for the paintball to the face."

_____

Ryan went home and walked straight to the washroom. He peeled off his sweat-soaked T-shirt and paint-splattered shorts underneath. His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen.

Reminder: Tonight, 9 p.m. Bachelor part y

No shit. He scowled, dropping his phone on the counter with a dull thud. Ryan stripped down and turned on the shower, steam billowing up from the scalding water. He stepped in, letting the hot water sear his skin and wash away the paint and grime.

As he scrubbed, his mind wandered back to her. The way she'd stood in front of the washroom door in her towel with her hair dripping. The soft cotton underwear she wore that cut high on her hips.

Ryan wasn't going to grovel. He wasn't going to be the guy who blew up Aelin's phone. If she didn't want to talk, fine.

Indignation felt good for about five seconds until he remembered how much she had to be hurting. She'd been forced to move, she was being constantly harassed by her ex.

Stepping out of the shower, Ryan grabbed a towel and dried off. He tied his hair back with a hair tie and glanced down as his phone buzzed again.

Reminder: Tomorrow, 10 a.m. Aelin's mediation.

Ryan walked back into the main room and pulled out a clean pair of jeans and the shirt he promised Country he'd wear. A collared seer-sucker with tiny pink flamingoes. He dressed quickly, then sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks and shoes. He fastened his watch around his wrist, the leather strap cool against his skin, then grabbed his keys and phone and shoved them into his pockets.

Ryan knocked a few chores off his list, then left the house and drove. He turned on his pre-game pump-up playlist, and by the time he turned onto Stephen Avenue, he felt ready to be Fun Ryan for at least an hour. He passed a few shops and restaurants, then found a parking spot a block from the bar.

It didn't take long for everyone to show up, and as soon as Sean handed out the personalized nut rags Kelty had made for all of them, they downed a round of drinks and hit the dance floor. Ryan lasted for all of ten minutes before the alcohol hit his system, and any energy he'd mustered sapped out of him.

His exhaustion wasn't physical. Ever since they'd gotten back from the lake, he felt like he was trying to cross the ice with guards on his blades. Amaya was amped up with all the changes, understandably, but every time he dropped her off and saw Aelin through the windows, it was like someone clipped another weight onto his belt.

Tyler sat down next to him at the table. "Not feeling it tonight?"

Ryan shrugged. "It's just been a long week." He patted Tyler on the shoulder. "Thank you for all your help."

Tyler nodded. "I told you Aelin asked me to thank you the other day, right?" he asked.

Ryan let out a sharp breath. "Yeah, bud. I think you've told me three times."

Tyler nodded but didn't comment. With the alcohol swirling in Ryan's gut, he couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

"She won't text me back. I texted her every day and tried calling at night, and I think I got one response, maybe two."

"That's where you were, right?" Tyler asked. "On your vacation, you were with her?"

Ryan nodded. "Yeah. We went down to Montana for the week."

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize it was that serious."

Ryan scoffed. "It wasn't. Our girls wanted to go to the lake together. That was it."

"Sure," Tyler said, nodding slowly. "But something changed, though, eh?"

Ryan's grip tightened on his glass. "We got a little closer. "

The corner of Tyler's mouth quirked. "How close?"

He took a swig of his beer. "Not close enough."

"And then you came back. And nothing?" Tyler asked. Ryan nodded. "But she's going through a divorce."

"Yeah," Ryan exhaled. "Her ex is a jackass. Making things difficult. That's why she asked me not to come by. She's trying not to rock the boat."

Tyler frowned. "But he can't see if she's calling or texting you."

Tyler's words were a palm to the face. "Holy shit." Ryan dropped his glass on the table.

Tyler glanced up. "What?"

Ryan leaned forward. "He can't see her phone calls and texts . . . but he could. "

"What?" Tyler looked confused.

"When we got back from the lake, Aelin told me he'd installed some app on her phone that was giving him access to her information."

Tyler's eyes widened. "He installed spyware on her personal cell?"

"Right, yeah. You'd know all about that."

"Can I kick that dude in the balls?"

Ryan laughed. "Get in line."

Tyler glanced down at his phone on the table. "Bud, I don't know about you, but if someone saw every single thing I did on there or every message I sent, I'd want to drive over that thing with my car."

Ryan laughed. "But think of all the dick pics we'd miss out on."

Tyler scoffed. "I'm not talking about the dick pics. Happy to post those whenever." He patted Ryan's shoulder, then walked over to order another round of shots for the table.

Ryan took another drink. Of course, Aelin wouldn't want to use her phone. He'd seen how she reacted to Clark in her driveway. She'd been in an abusive relationship for twelve years. How was she supposed to suddenly forget that? She was a mama bear, and until mediation was complete—maybe even after that—she was going to guard Bailey with whatever it took.

But what could Ryan do to help her? He couldn't go and stand next to the tree, that was for damn sure.

He opened his phone to his AI chatbot and started asking questions.