I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She looked up at me, her eyes narrowing. “You’ll figure it out. Eventually.”
I wanted to ask her what she meant—push back, prove her wrong—but the way she said it made it clear the conversation was over.
I told myself I didn’t care. I sat in my truck, looking at the shelter. I watched the light go off as she locked up.
Riley looked at those dogs like they were worth something—every last one that had been ditched or broken or written off. All she wanted was to care for them, to keep them safe. The broken ones. The forgotten ones.
I want to be seen differently.
I want her to see me differently.
So that’s it, then. That’s what I want.
No clue how to make it happen.
Chapter three
Riley: Fire or Ice
The sound of skates and testosterone echoed off the cold rink walls. I didn’t want to be here. Not at practice, not anywhere near Colton Hayes.
But Ryan had pulled the family card that morning. “Riley, you need to come to practice today,” he’d said, voice firm and unyielding. “Colton’s got a media interview after, and you’re supposed to keep him out of trouble, remember?”
I groaned into the phone. “Ryan, I have a job. A real one. I can’t just drop everything to babysit your charming disaster of a friend.”
But that’s the thing about being me—I’m always the one people count on to clean up the messes. At the shelter, home, and now here, making sure Colton Hayes didn’t ruin his life.
Again.
“It’s just for a couple of hours,” he’d said, his tone softening. “Please, Riley. I need your help.”
That was how I ended up standing in the cold, echoing rink of the Silver Ridge Arena. Home ice for the Silver Ridge Icehawks.Instead of barking dogs, I am surrounded by the sounds of skates slicing across the ice and sticks clacking against pucks. The air smelled like sweat and Zamboni fumes. I feel entirely out of place.
The arena was smaller than I’d expected. Faded banners were hanging from the rafters. And a handful of spectators were scattered in the stands. It was a far cry from the roaring NHL arenas Colton was used to.
I couldn’t help but glance at him, wondering how he felt about the downgrade. Was it humbling? Infuriating? If he had any strong feelings about it, he didn’t show them. But I knew Colton well enough to recognize when he was putting on a front.
I turned to Ryan, who stood beside me, arms resting on the top of the boards as he watched practice. "Has he said anything about playing here?"
Ryan shook his head. "Nope. Just laced up his skates and got to work."
I frowned, watching Colton skate. "Typical. Always pretending nothing gets to him."
Ryan shot me a look. "And you think you’re any different?"
I scoffed but didn’t answer. Maybe he had a point.
Colton was on the ice, effortlessly weaving through cones during a drill. Even I had to admit he looked good out there—strong, fast, and entirely in his element. It was infuriating, in a way. How could someone mess up that badly and still move like the ice belonged to him?
The other players laughed and joked with him, clearly drawn to his easy charm. It made me roll my eyes. Of course, everyone loved him. He was the golden boy, even in exile.
“Hey, sis,” he called, skating over to the boards where I stood. His grin was infuriatingly wide. “You here to cheer me on?”
“I’m here because Ryan made me,” I said flatly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He chuckled, leaning on his stick. “You know, you could try to have a little fun. It won’t kill you.”
