14. Ryder

How was Margarita Night?

Surprisingly, really good. Mia was on her best behavior, so that was nice.

I'm glad. Feel like coming over to snuggle with me?

We talked about this already. I don't feel comfortable having overnights when Chloe is there.

Can't fault a man for trying.

I should probably get to bed. I didn't get much sleep last night.

Everything okay?

Yeah. Just one of those nights where my brain wouldn't shut off.

I know them well.

I'll talk to you in the morning. Good night.

Gia is always ending the conversation every night and it leaves me on edge. I appreciate that she sets boundaries but I'd rather her be lying next to me.

"Hey Ren, thanks so much for coming over and taking Chloe for the day."

"I act like I'm doing you a favor but it's the highlight of my day during the summer," she smiles as she walks into the kitchen.

"Getting a little stir crazy at home?"

"A little. Margarita Night was a hit. I'm glad Talia did that."

"I heard it was a good time."

"It was nice to get to know Gia a little better."

"She's pretty great," I grin.

"She seems like it. The age difference really worries me."

"It doesn't bother me so it shouldn't bother you."

"You're in two different parts of your life, Brother."

"Are we though? Some people are way more mature for their age. I've met women five years older than me that don't have their shit together in the same way that Gia does."

"Does she have it together though? I heard she was drunk on the beach the other day and Chloe found her like that."

"Who told you that?"

"It's not important."

"Actually it is because no one else knows about that. And Chloe wouldn't have told you she was drunk; she doesn't even know what that means."

My sister glances down at the counter quickly and shakes her head.

"I overheard you and Josh talking about it."

"You're lying to me."

"Don't accuse me of lying."

"You won't look me in the eye, it's a tell."

She groans and rolls her eyes. "Fine, Mia told me."

"How would Mia even know? She wasn't even here when it happened?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me how the conversation went."

"Mia and I were leaving at the same time and started talking outside the house. She noticed that when Rosa mentioned your relationship with Gia I didn't seem as onboard as the others, and she asked why. I told her I thought you were moving too fast and that I worried you were going to get hurt. She told me that she wasn't going to reach out to Gia, ever, and didn't realize she was in Ash Cove."

"Why wouldn't she reach out to her twin sister?"

"Mia said that she learned Gia's not at all who she says she is. That she's just like their father and tricks people into trusting her before she destroys their lives. She said she's a drug addict who owes people a lot of money. Mia is actually an undercover FBI agent and they've been following Gia because she's also a suspect in a number of financial crimes."

"I don't believe that because if that were the case she would have known that Gia was in town. She told Josh and Talia that she had no clue Gia was here. If she were following her as an FBI agent she would have known and avoided introducing herself until she left. She's lying about something."

"You don't know that."

"Her stories aren't matching up. She also threw herself at me the other night at dinner. Something isn't right."

"She threw herself at you?"

"Yeah, she played it off as if it were a joke, but it clearly wasn't."

"Oh, that's disturbing. And she knew that you and Gia were together at the time?"

"Yes, it was halfway through dinner."

"Maybe it's a misunderstanding. I know dinner seemed weird, but she was completely different at Margarita Night. She seemed to really care about Gia and Talia."

"Maybe," I lie. "Think about this too. Why would the FBI put someone's biological twin sister on a case to arrest her? There are too many liabilities even if they'd never met before."

She may have my na?ve Sister fooled, but she's not tricking me. My intuition is telling me there is something wrong and I'm going to believe it.

How would she know about Gia washing up on shore? Was she responsible for it?

Is she responsible for the envelope on my front porch?

"It'll all come out in the wash, isn't that what they say?"

"Yeah, I think so," I chuckle. "I should head out."

I grab my duffel bag and head to the car. Chloe is still sound asleep, but she is aware that I was leaving for an early hockey practice and conditioning before she went to sleep last night. She was excited that she gets to wake up with her Aunt Ren in charge.

Good morning, beautiful. How'd you sleep?

Like a queen.

Lol. That's fantastic. What are your plans for the day?

Working with my toes in the sand. What about you?

I'm headed to the University of North Carolina for practice. Get some good conditioning in and a lift.

It's cool that there's a team so close for you to get reps in with.

I'm a fan. Can I see you tonight?

I think that can be arranged.

Good. Ren's got Chloe all day, I'll see if she wants to make it a sleepover and then you're mine.

I like the sound of that.

We text back and forth until I'm at the rink and start my workout.

The early morning air is crisp as I step into the empty ice rink. Before I hit the ice, I spend a grueling hour in the gym, pushing my body to its limits with a series of intense conditioning exercises. The clank of weights and the whir of machines fill the air as I focus on building strength and endurance, each rep bringing me one step closer to peak performance.

The weight of the barbell presses down on my shoulders as I squat, the burn in my muscles a welcome reminder of the hard work I"ve put in. I grit my teeth and push through the pain, channeling my determination into every movement.

Next comes the circuit training. A relentless barrage of push-ups, burpees, and sprints that leaves me gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. But I don"t relent, pushing myself harder with each passing minute, my eyes fixed on the ultimate goal of becoming the best athlete I can be.

Finally, it"s time to hit the ice. My sanctuary. My domain. As I lace up my skates and step onto the cold surface, a sense of calm washes over me, driving out the last remnants of fatigue and doubt. The sound of my skates slicing through the ice echoes in the quiet arena. It"s become a familiar ritual—one that I look forward to often.

The University of North Carolina's hockey team is already on the ice, warming up with a series of drills under the watchful eye of their coach. I nod in greeting as I join them, the age gap between us painfully apparent. But I don"t let it deter me—if anything, it fuels my determination to prove myself against younger, faster opponents.

The practice is intense from the get-go, with Coach pushing us to our limits with a relentless series of drills and exercises. We start with puck handling drills, weaving in and out of cones with lightning speed, the puck flying effortlessly from stick to stick.

Next comes the shooting drills—a barrage of shots from every angle, each one a test of accuracy and precision. I unleash a blistering slapshot, the puck soaring into the top corner of the net with a satisfying thud.

But it"s the scrimmage that really gets my blood pumping—the adrenaline-fueled battle for possession, the thunderous clash of bodies against the boards. I skate with a ferocity born of years of experience, that I've developed more precisely over the year. Outmaneuvering my opponents with speed and agility honed through countless hours of practice.

Ethan Klask is widely known as the best hockey player in the NCAA right now. He's incredibly talented and chose to finish a degree rather than go directly into the NHL. I was happy to learn that he chose UNC as his home school because I knew in the off season, I would get some of the best practices because of him.

The problem is that he thinks he's got to destroy me at every practice.

The ego is strong with this one.

As the scrimmage begins, Ethan zeroes in on me with a look of determination in his eyes. He knows my reputation, knows that I"ve played at a higher level than he ever has, and he"s determined to prove that he can hold his own against me.

We skate circles around each other, our sticks clashing with a resounding crack as we battle for possession of the puck. Ethan is fast, and agile, his movements fluid and precise. But I refuse to back down, matching him stride for stride with a combination of skill and experience.

The tension between us is thick as we face off at center ice, the rest of the players watching intently from the sidelines. Everyone falls silent as Coach drops the puck, and in an instant, we"re off, racing toward each other with a single-minded focus.

Ethan moves with lightning speed, weaving through the defense with ease as he closes in on the net. I give chase, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to keep pace with him. But he"s too quick, too skilled, and before I know it, he"s in front of the net, the puck on his stick and the goal gaping wide open.

In that split second, our eyes lock, a silent challenge passing between us. And then, with a flick of his wrist, Ethan sends the puck sailing past me and into the back of the net.

His teammates erupt into cheers as Ethan celebrates his goal, a triumphant grin on his face. But for me, the defeat is bittersweet.

As the scrimmage comes to an end, I skate off the ice with a sense of frustration gnawing at me. Ethan may have won this round, but I refuse to let it deter me. I"ll come back stronger, more determined than ever to prove that I still have what it takes to compete at the highest level.

That's why these practices are so important to me. Ethan represents all of the professional hockey players in the league. If it's not Ethan, then it's someone else I have to prepare for on the ice. I won't get soft or slow down anytime soon, especially if I continue to practice with these twenty-year-olds.

"One Hell of a practice old man," Ethan chuckles as he walks to the locker room with me.

"It was pretty good."

"I always think there's going to be a day that you just stop showing up, but every day you're here."

"You forget this is my job, my passion. It would take a lot more to get me to stop showing up."

"I don't know many other players your age who are sharpening their sticks by playing with an NCAA hockey team."

"I'm not like most players."

He chuckles and nods. "Well, I'm glad because you make me better every day that you show up."

"I feel the same about you," I laugh. "Hopefully you'll remember that when my team comes to you with an offer to play in two years."

"We'll see, old man," he grins as he claps me on the back.

He walks into the locker room, and I follow. I go to a locker they set aside for me and grab my phone.

I'm finished here, getting ready to hit the showers. Can you be ready in an hour?

I text Gia and then put my phone back in the locker before grabbing my stuff to hit the showers. By the time I'm out and dressed, heading to the parking lot Gia still hasn't read my message.

An hour later, I go directly to her cottage.

Maybe she fell asleep on the beach.

She's not at her place when I get there and she's also nowhere on the resort's private beach.

It's not like her to go over an hour without replying to me, especially since we had plans.

This doesn't feel good.

Did she ghost me again?