Chapter 13

Jayden

Caffeine Beach’s steaming cup of peppermint mocha has been calling to me all day, and I’m finally cradling it between my chilled hands. I sit inside and stare out at the boardwalk. It’s festive, almost magical, but the knot in my stomach tightens as I spot Ryder striding past. He doesn't even glance inside with his focus clearly on some distant point I can't see.

I've seen Ryder avoid hits on the ice with more grace than he's avoiding me now. God, when did everything become so complicated?

Christmas is creeping closer, its merry cheer suffocating when all I can think about is the looming decision. Ryder’s mother’s Christmas ball is an event I'd been excited to attend, arm in arm with him. That was before the distance, before the uncertainty.

Do I reach out? Do I ask him if he still wants me there, pretending for one night that we're something more, something real? My thumb traces the rim of my cup, and the peppermint scent tickles my senses.

A bell jingles signaling someone is entering the coffee shop and pulls me from my thoughts. I immediately look up, hopeful to see Ryder, and the disappointment is a physical ache that settles heavy in my bones.

Ryder . His name is a wish, a hope, a regret. It's time to make a choice, time to step out of the shadows and into the blinding light of confrontation. Am I brave enough to face whatever answer awaits me?

Christmas is supposed to be about joy and connection, yet here I am, nursing a lonely heart and contemplating reaching out to a man who, deep down, I’m frightened of the truths I may discover.

I can't hide forever.

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and then pull out my phone. It's now or never. All the fear aside, I know I want to be by his side, whatever that may intel.

Me: Hey, Ryder. About the Christmas ball...

Send.

With the question out there, I slip the phone back into my pocket and walk out to meander along the Love Beach boardwalk.

Will he need me to go? What if he does? Can I slip into the role of his girlfriend for one night, pretend we're something we're not—or might no longer be?

My other looming thought is when, or if, I meet his family. What do I say to the people who have shaped him, when I'm unsure where I fit into his world or even if I still do?

I hate this uncertainty. It makes me feel small, and I've never been one to shrink into the background—not with my fiery hair and spirit to match.

As much as I dread the possibility of heartache lurking around the corner, I know I'll regret it more if I don't show up, if I don't give this—give us—one last chance.

I’m still going to stay true to the promise that I made him of attending every home game. Good luck charm or not, I’m not willing to test the theory during the middle of his season. So, I have a game to go to tomorrow afternoon.

***

Clutching a foam finger and wearing Ryder's jersey like a talisman, I'm more than ready to cheer him on—loudly, proudly as the puck drops on center ice.

"Go Renegades!" I shout.

Beside me, Mimi’s cheers are just as enthusiastic, and I’m glad she could be here with me today since I’m still uneasy about this whole Ryder situation that I caused by putting space between us.

There's Ryder, number seventeen, a force to be reckoned with—usually. Tonight though, his movements lack that signature fluidity, his checks are half-hearted, and his shots miss their mark with uncharacteristic regularity. It's hard to watch and sets my nerves on edge.

"Is it just me, or does Ryder seem... off?" I lean toward Mimi.

She squints at the ice, then nods slowly. "He looks like he's skating so slow."

I chew on my lower lip. He knows exactly where we're seated—same spot as always, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the furrow of his brow beneath the helmet. Before, he'd sneak glances our way, a secret communication, his ice-blue eyes locking onto mine.

Tonight, not even one look comes my way. I really did fuck this up.

The game progresses, and I watch him push harder, fight fiercer, but the magic isn't there. The crowd senses it too; the energy dips in the rink.

"Maybe he's just having an off day," Mimi says during the second intermission.

"Maybe," I concede, though my gut tells me it's more than that.

By the time the final buzzer sounds, defeat hanging heavy in the air, I'm filled with a different kind of dread—not for the lost game, but for what it signifies. Ryder Raines doesn't just play hockey; he breathes it, lives it, loves it. To see him so disconnected from the game is to see him disconnected from himself. If he's pulling away from the sport that defines him, where does that leave us?

"Let's wait for him outside," she suggests.

"Okay," I agree, but I’m seriously hesitant.

I weave through fans. I'm on a mission to find Ryder before he vanishes into the night.

"Jayden, slow down," Mimi calls after me, but I can't. Every second feels critical, and my legs move with a purpose.

I reach his Jeep. Guilt pinches at my conscience for being so distant, for letting my own insecurities hurt what we've built.

He emerges from the crowd, his tall, muscular form unmistakable even in the sea of people. My pulse races, and I lean against his Jeep for support, trying to appear calm.

"Hey, Ryder," I begin. "Tough game tonight."

He barely acknowledges me, his eyes fixed on some faraway point. It's as if he's looking right through me, and the connection we once had feels as weak.

"Got stuff to do," he mumbles.

"Can we talk?" I ask.

Ryder pauses, his hand on the door handle, and for a split second, hope flares within me. Then he shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tightening. "Not now, Jayden. I can't."

His words slice through the thin veil of bravado I've been holding onto. He climbs into the Jeep, the engine roaring to life. The headlights flare, and then he's pulling away, leaving me standing there, alone and more lost than ever.