"I might," I admit, taking a grateful sip. But it's not enough. "You know what? I think I do need some air."
Ryder's immediately alert, his hand tightening in mine. "Want me to come with you?"
"No, stay. Celebrate with your team. I just need a minute to process all this."
He studies my face with those perceptive hazel eyes. "You sure?"
"Positive. I'll be right back."
I slip outside into the cool night air, leaving the noise and celebration behind. The parking lot is quieter, though I can still hear the party raging inside.
One hundred and nineteen thousand dollars.
I lean against the brick wall of the tavern and let myself really think about that number.
The shelter has been my life for years. Every morning, every night, every weekend, every holiday. I've poured everything I have into keeping it running, watching every penny, making impossible choices about which animals to help and which repairs to prioritize.
And in one night, Ryder changed everything.
God, how did I fight this so hard?
The truth is, I've been terrified since the moment he walked back into my life. Terrified of hoping, terrified of trusting, terrified of letting myself believe that maybe, just maybe, he'd changed enough to stay this time.
But what if I'd kept fighting? What if I'd stuck to my guns about not needing help, about being fine on my own? What if the Icehawks Community Outreach Program had paired him with someone else, and I'd spent another year watching him from a distance, too stubborn and scared to admit I still loved him?
None of this would have happened.
The shelter would still be struggling. The animals would still be at risk. And I'd still be alone, convincing myself that independence was better than the possibility of heartbreak.
But now I'm suddenly thankful he came back. And he didn't just come back… he came back forme.
The house he bought because of our tree. The way he's shown up every single day at the shelter, not just with help but with patience. The way he's let me set the pace, let me work through my fears without pushing.
And tonight. God, tonight.
The way he looked at me from the ice, like I was the only person in that arena who mattered. The way he mouthed "I love you" in front of thousands of people and however many more watching on television.
This isn't the boy who left me eight years ago. This is a man who knows what he wants. And he isn't afraid to fight for it either.
Now that's a man I could love. Not just love, but spend the rest of my life with.
But am I ready to reveal those feelings to him? Especially out loud… like he has so openly?
The tavern door opens behind me, and I turn to see Ryder stepping outside, two beer bottles in his hands.
"Thought you might want some company after all," he says, offering me one of the bottles.
"How'd you know?"
"Because I know you." He settles beside me against the wall, close enough that our shoulders touch. "And because you get that look when you're processing something big."
"What look?"
"The look that says your brain is running about a thousand miles an hour, trying to figure it all out by yourself again."
He knows me too well. Always has.
We stand in silence for a moment, watching the snow fall under the parking lot lights. It's peaceful out here, a contrast to the celebration raging inside.
