I look at Ryan, waiting for him to say something, to agree or push back, but he doesn’t. Just that same calm, steady look.
I shift in my seat, exhaling slowly. "I don’t know how to explain it, but... for the first time, it felt like I had someone in my corner. Someone who would be there for me for better or worse."
I glance down, rubbing my thumb against the seam of my jeans, thinking.
"I didn’t want to squander that. I wanted to earn it."
I look up at Ryan now, holding his gaze.
"And I think I have. I mean, I see it—my game’s sharper, my focus is better, I’m making smarter plays. Riley kept me accountable, and I needed that. She didn’t let me off easy, and because of that, I’m playing better. I feel like I actually deserve my spot now."
I pause, hoping Ryan agrees.
Eventually, he leans forward, forearms on the desk, eyes steady on mine.
"You think all of this is just about hockey?"
I shift in my seat. "What do you mean?"
Ryan lets out a short laugh before rubbing a hand down his face.
"Okay, look. I’m Riley’s brother, so I really don’t want to know too much, no I’m begging you not to tell me too much. But, Colton… it’s obvious to anyone who’s spent five minutes around the two of you that something is going on."
My grip tightens on the armrest. "I don’t know, man."
I rub a hand over my jaw, staring at the floor like the answer’s somehow gonna be there.
"I mean… yeah. I care about her."
I exhale, shaking my head.
"But Riley’s…"
I pause, swallowing hard, then glance up at Ryan.
"She’s Riley, you know? She’s smart, and solid, and she deserves better than some guy who spent half the season screwing up his own life."
Ryan’s lip twitched. "Doesn’t Riley have a say in this? You really think Riley’s just gonna sit back and let you make this call for her?"
Chapter fifteen
Riley: The Picture
The smell of cinnamon hit me as I stepped into the Bean & Biscuit. It's one reason I love coming here on donation pick-up days. The other? I never knew what I was picking up—money, dog food, chew toys. I know the dogs secretly hope for those dog treats Janice likes to sneak to them. I tugged my sleeves down over my hands and gave Evan behind the counter a quick wave.
"Morning, Riley," he called. "Give me a sec, the donations are in the back. You want the usual latte while I’m at it?"
"Sure," I said, managing a faint smile. "Thanks."
I moved off to the side and let my eyes wander to the community bulletin board—flyers for open mic nights, dog walkers, and a yoga class that had already come and gone. The espresso machine kicked on, drowning out most of the shop chatter, but not the voices drifting from a nearby table.
"...yeah, I hear he asked for a trade."
"Hayes? Seriously? I thought he was starting to pull it together."
"Guess not. A guy like that doesn’t stick around for long."
My fingers curled into my sleeves. My shoulders tightened. I stared at the edge of a curling flyer. One corner was held up by a bent thumbtack that looked like it had been pulled out once and shoved back in.
