“You love this place, don’t you?” I asked, palms on the counter.
She looked up, her guard immediately back in place. “Of course I do. These dogs depend on me. They don’t have anyone else.”
I nodded. I want someone to look at me the way she looks at those dogs. “Must be nice,” I said quietly. “Having something to care about like that.”
She studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You could have that too, you know. If you stopped thinking about yourself for five minutes.”
"Listen, I have to go back to the storage shed and get supplies for tomorrow. And Colton, text me your practice schedule in the morning. In the meantime, I will figure out what you’re going to be doing here."
After Riley left, I lingered momentarily, scratching Max behind the ears one last time. “Take care of her, buddy,” I muttered, standing up and brushing off my jeans.
The shelter felt too quiet without Riley’s sharp remarks, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. I grabbed my jacket and headed out, the crisp afternoon air a welcome change from the tension inside.
The rink wasn’t far—just a ten-minute walk through the heart of Silver Ridge. But I didn’t head straight there. I needed a minute to clear my head, to shake off the way Riley’s words clung to me like smoke.
That girl didn’t pull punches. I kept my head down, avoiding the curious glances of locals who probably recognized me from the headlines.
By the time I pushed through the arena doors, I was already bracing myself for whatever Ryan had to say. He was waiting for me in the locker room, arms crossed and a look on his face that told me this wouldn’t be a friendly chat. He wasn’t just Riley’s brother—he was the assistant coach who put his name on the line to get me here.
“How’s it going with Riley?”
I shrugged, tossing my gear into my bag. “She hates me.”
“Good,” he said, leaning against the lockers. “Maybe she’ll keep you in line.”
I shot him a look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Not as much as I should be,” he said, his tone serious. “Colton, I’m not kidding. If you screw this up, you’re done. The team’s out of patience, and so am I."
He pushed his sleeves up.
"Do you know how many guys would kill to be where you are? To have the talent, the opportunities, the life you’ve been handed? And what do you do with it? Make headlines for all the wrong reasons?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.
“And don’t think this is just about you. I stuck my neck out for you, Hayes. I told the team you were worth the risk and that you’d clean up your act. If you mess up, it’s not just your career on the line—it’s my credibility too. So yeah, I’m short on patience.”
Then he looked me square in the eye. “Colton, I need to know that you get it. You'll lose everything if you don’t get your act together.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I get it, okay? I’ll play nice.”
“You’d better,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “And for the record, Riley’s not just doing this for me. She’s doing it because she cares about this town. So don’t mess it up.”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ryan hesitated as if he were choosing his words carefully. “Let’s just say a lot is riding on this for her. More than you realize. She’s fighting for something she loves, and the last thing she needs is you making it harder.”
Fighting for something she loves. I have no idea what that even feels like.
As much as I hated to admit it, Riley was getting under my skin. She was blunt, opinionated, and didn’t take crap from anyone—least of all me. But there was something about her fire that intrigued me. She wasn’t like anyone else I’d ever met, and that was saying something.
I realized I had left my car at the shelter. As I walked back, I prepared for the next sibling lecture. “Maybe with any luck, Riley will have left,” I muttered.
When I returned to the shelter, she was sitting on the floor with Max, scratching his belly and talking to him. For a moment, I just watched her, how her face softened when she smiled, and how her hair fell into her eyes when she leaned down to kiss the dog’s head.
“You know,” I said, leaning against the doorframe, “if you talked to people the way you talk to that dog, you might make some friends.”
She didn’t look up. “I don’t need friends. Especially not ones who think they’re too good for this town.”
