"Okay," I say, grabbing Ryder's hand and pulling him toward the supply closet where Gandalf has been suspiciously quiet. "We need to talk."
"About your apparent talent for attracting shirtless contractors?" Ryder asks, allowing himself to be dragged. I swear I can practically see him mentally calculating how many of these guys he could take in a fight.
"About the fact that you're being ridiculous." I peek into the supply closet to check on Gandalf, who appears to be napping peacefully on a pile of old towels. "And about why you're really here."
"I can't just stop by to see my girlfriend?"
Girlfriend.The word still sends a little thrill through me, even after two weeks of hearing it.
"You can. But you have that look."
"What look?"
"The look that says you have something to tell me but you're not sure how I'm going to react."
Ryder scrubs a hand through his hair, a new sign I've learned means he's nervous. He never got like this when we were in school. He was always Mr. Confident.
"You know me too well," he says.
"So what is it? Did Coach schedule another extra practice? Did you break something in my kitchen again? Did you finally admit to yourself that sleeping on the floor isn't actually comfortable?"
He scoffs and shakes his head. "I got the road trip schedule."
Road trip. Shit.
I knew this was coming. Rationally, I understood that dating a professional hockey player means dealing with travel, with games in other cities, with weeks away from home.
But hearing the words out loud makes my chest tighten with old fears I thought I'd conquered.
"Right. Of course." I mutter quickly, grabbing his hands and squeezing. "How exciting!"
The nervous bounce I use to distract him doesn't work. Ryder just pins me with a pointed look that sees right through me.
"How long?" I ask, hating that I fail to hide how immature and ridiculous I sound right now.
Ryder reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded paper. "Four games. Four cities. We leave Thursday, back the following Tuesday."
Six days.Almost a week. I can do that. Easy.
I take the itinerary, scanning the dates and cities. Chicago, Detroit, Boston, New York. All places that feel impossibly far from Iron Ridge, from me, from this life we've been building together.
"That's..." I pause, forcing myself to breathe. "That's not too bad."
But my mind is already spiraling.
What if something happens while he's gone? What if I have another emergency? Like the puppy situation… and he's not here to help this time?
What if six days apart reminds us both how we managed just fine without each other for eight years?
What if the distance makes it easier for him to see all the reasons this might not work long-term?
"Mia." Ryder steps closer, his hands cupping my face. "Talk to me. What are you thinking?"
I'm thinking about the last time you left me. I'm thinking about how easy it would be for you to realize you've made a mistake. I'm thinking about how much it would destroy me to lose you again.
But I can't say any of that. Not when he's looking at me with such concern, such love. Not when I've promised myself I'd be mature about this.
We're adults now. Not teenagers. We both have demanding jobs, demanding lives and other people, otheranimalsthat need our attention just as much as each other.
