Chapter 6

Ryder

My breath comes out in white puffs, the only evidence of strain as I glide across the rink, ready for the puck to come my way. It's the first game since Jayden and I made our little deal, and my muscles thrum with a mix of adrenaline and something else, something new.

"Wolf!" The shout snaps me back just in time to see a blur of red and black hurtling toward me—a breakaway from the opposing team. Time slows, and instincts take over. One-on-one, it's just me against him, and I'm damn well not letting this puck find the back of the net.

He fakes left, but I don't bite—I know that dance. Right then, he fires off a shot, quick and low, but I’m faster and connect my stick to the puck a satisfying slap. Denied. I kick it to our center.

The crowd erupts, but their cheers are muffled under the pounding of my heart. Moments later, the other team’s offense is coming in my direction again. I race over and steal the puck and send it back to my offensive teammates. The arena goes wild.

"Yes, Wolf!" My teammate slaps my shoulder as we skate off for a line shift.

Breathing heavily, I plop down on the bench, grabbing my water bottle..

Jayden's face flashes before my eyes, her green gaze bright with challenge. Could she be the reason for this sudden turn in my luck? I've been called superstitious, but maybe it's not my stick that's cursed after all. Maybe it was me.

The thought tickles the back of my mind as I replay those saves, and a corner of my mouth lifts. There's no magic in hockey, just sweat, skill, and sometimes... someone who makes you want to believe in more.

I shake my head to clear the image of her freckled nose crinkled in laughter. Yet she lingers there, stubborn as I’m already coming to know her as in such a short time.

"Next shift, you're up," the coach barks, snapping me back to reality.

"Got it, Coach." I nod. Another save, another win—it's what I do. Seems like now, I've got someone other than myself to impress, even if it's just part of some playful arrangement. Yeah, Jayden might just be my new Good Luck Charm.

***

I push through the carved mahogany doors of the Match Me Bunny's mansion, the heavy wood giving way to a scene that reeks of wealth and pleasure. It's all crystal chandeliers and silk drapes, laughter tinkling over the clink of fine china and the pop of champagne corks. The air is thick with perfume and promise, but it feels like I'm wrapped in a damp towel, cold and clinging.

"Hello, Mr. Raines," a sultry voice purrs near my ear. I half-turn, offering a tight-lipped smile. The woman is stunning, but she's not Jayden. No one here is Jayden, and that fact feels like a lead weight in my chest.

"Evening," I mutter, sidestepping her advance with an ease born from too many nights like this. The crowd usually knows my name, my stats, but not a damn thing about me.

I find a secluded spot by a towering window, only to see a moonlit landscaped backyard. My hand tightens around a glass of Scotch I don’t remember accepting, the amber liquid untouched. I should be working the room for what I actually came here for. I’m supposed to be finding my possible forever person, but my mind is miles away, tracing the freckles on Jayden's cheeks like constellations.

It's absurd, how I keep replaying our last conversation, the sound of her laugh that's imprinted itself beneath my skin. We haven't even kissed, and yet, every inch of me yearns to know the taste of her lips, the feel of her breath mingling with mine.

"Ryder?" Another attempt at drawing me out, another face I don't care to focus on. I nod, vague and distant, my gaze sliding back to the window. A laugh escapes me, low and humorless. Here I am, surrounded by people who'd kill for a night to be in my shoes with this matchmaking opportunity, and all I can think about is a fiery-haired little woman that’s too bright for my own good.

"Are you okay?" The concern in the stranger's voice is almost touching.

"Perfect," I reply, voice devoid of warmth. The words are automatic, rehearsed, a shield to hide behind.

"Then why do you look like you're at a funeral?" She presses, but I only shake my head, dismissing her curiosity along with the rest of the charade tonight.

"Wrong kind of party," I say. I take a sip of Scotch, letting the burn slide down my throat, wishing it was enough to sear away the image of Jayden's smile from my mind. It’s not.

"Hey, if you’re not into this, why come?" she asks.

"Good question," I admit. The truth is, my feet brought me here, but my heart's back on the boardwalk with Jayden.

"What's her name?" The stranger's voice is softer now.

"Jayden," I confess. Saying her name aloud feels like a betrayal and a relief all at once.

"You really should go to her," she says, a knowing smile curling her lips.

Just like that, the decision is made. I set down the glass, the content still swirling, and walk out.

I need to see Jayden. Now.

With my phone in hand, I peel away from the mansion. I swipe with my thumb that's all too eager to find her name and press call..

"Hey, Jayden," I start. "I'm at one of those Match Me Bunny shindigs, but it's not... It's just not where I want to be."

There's a pause on the other end, but I can hear Jayden's breath as a soft sound.

"Hmm?" The word is hesitant but hopeful.

"Hmph," I affirm, leaning my head back against my Jeep’s seat and my hand on the steering wheel. "I'd rather be hanging out with you."

"Give me twenty minutes?" Her tone brightens.

"Twenty minutes," I agree.

The rest of the drive is surprisingly calming until I’m standing in front of an apartment door about to knock.

Jayden's front door swings open, and there she stands. Her green eyes find mine, but there's a guarded edge to them, as if she's bracing herself for something.

"Hey, Ryder," she says. “Come in.”.

"Hey." I step inside, toeing off my shoes.

"Did you enjoy the party?" She asks it casually, but I catch the flicker of something else in her gaze.

"Not particularly," I admit. "It's all... superficial."

"Ah." She nods, a curtain of red hair swaying with the motion. "I get it."

Suddenly, the standoffishness dissipates, replaced by the Jayden I’m getting to know—a vibrant spark in human form. Our conversation takes off, talking about everything that comes to mind.

"Thanks for ditching the high-class orgy to spend your evening with little ol' me," she teases, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

"Trust me, it's no sacrifice," I reply, my laugh genuine for the first time tonight. It's true.

We're lounging on her couch, and I'm half-listening, half just watching her speak. She does this thing with the way her hands move with every word; it’s like she's painting her past in the air as she’s telling the story.

"Then there was this one summer," she says, laughter bubbling up inside her, "Dad decided we were 'roughing it'—no hotels, no fancy restaurants. Just us, a tent, and whatever we could catch or forage."

"Sounds... rustic." I stretch out my legs, feeling the pull of muscles still aching from today’s practice. Her stories, they're so different from my own memories, full of warmth and whimsy.

"Your turn," she nudges me with her foot, making me smile. She's always digging for more, for the real me.

"Alright," I start, leaning back, hands behind my head. "My mom wasn’t around too much. She was off doing who knows who in the high class world, so it was just me and the rink most days. That slab of ice was both babysitter and best friend."

"Loneliness and companionship," Jayden muses, tilting her head, considering my words.

"Something like that." My voice trails off, and we sit in silence, the kind that speaks volumes.

The front door clicks open, and we both turn as Jayden's roommate breezes in, keys jangling. "Hey, guys," she greets with a friendly smile.

"Hey," I nod back, trying to remember her name—it's not coming to me.

"Jayden, you two need anything?" She pauses at the threshold, poised to either join in or leave us be.

"We're good, thanks," Jayden says, and her roommate nods, disappearing down the hallway, the click of her bedroom door granting us privacy once more.

"Where were we?" Jayden asks, drawing her knees up under her chin.

"Right," I continue. "So, the rink. It was my escape, my proving ground. Every scraped knee, every bruised ego—it all happened there."

"Made you who you are," she observes, and I can see somehow, she gets it, understands the isolation that shaped me, the cold that seeped into my bones and never quite left.

"Yeah," I whisper, "it did."

Her hand finds mine, a small but significant touch.

I push off the couch, muscles protesting from staying still too long. "I should get going," I say, voice rougher than I intend.

"Let me walk you out," Jayden offers, her eyes searching mine for something I'm not sure I can name.

We shuffle through the small living room that's been witness to more honesty tonight than I've shown anyone in years. Out the door and down the hall, it’s an intimate thing, walking side by side with her, close enough for our arms to brush with each step.

"Thanks for listening," I say.

"Always," she replies, and there's a promise in that single word that tugs at places in my chest I keep locked up tight.

The night is cool as we reach my Jeep parked under a streetlamp.

Jayden turns to face me, her hands sliding into the pockets of her jeans. She's looking up at me now, biting her lip in a way that sends a jolt straight to my cock.

"Ryder," she starts, hesitating just a beat. "Tonight was... it was really nice."

"Nice" doesn't begin to cover it. It was revealing, terrifying, but yeah, it was also the best kind of nice. Feeling bold, or maybe just reckless, I reach out and tuck a fiery strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin is soft, warm, and I linger longer than necessary.

"Jayden," I echo her. I want to say more, to tell her that she's chipped away at something inside me, that she's got me feeling things I swore I'd never feel again. However, words are traitors, and they fail me now.

Then she's surging up on her tiptoes, and her lips are pressing against mine, hesitant at first, like she's testing the waters. When I don't pull back—when I can't because this is what I've been craving also—her kiss deepens, and it's all heat and need and a million unspoken things passing between us.

My hands find her waist, pulling her closer, grounding her to me as if she's my anchor. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my jacket, and I can feel the press of her body, the rapid beat of her heart syncing with mine.

It's a kiss born of whispers shared on a couch, of stories exchanged and souls being united. And when we finally break apart, gasping for air, I can't help the half-grin that breaks across my face.