The thought bothers me more than it should. Mia's not shallow—she's proven that over and over. And this isn't about impressing her. It's about showing her I'm serious. That I'm ready to build the life we talked about when we were seventeen and thought we had all the time in the world.
I lean against the wall and let out a sigh, surveying all the work that needs to be done. I should go to bed, with an early flight scheduled for tomorrow.
Instead, I pull out my phone and text Mia.
Ryder: Missing you already. Any chance you want to come over for one last night before I abandon you for six days? Promise I'll make it worth your while… (Winky-Face Emoji)
Her response comes back immediately.
Mia: How worth my while are we talking? Scale of 1 to "forget my own name", please.
I grin, typing back quickly.
Ryder: Definitely forget your own name territory. Maybe forget how to walk properly too.
Mia: Sold. Give me twenty minutes to escape the left-over contractor chaos.
Ryder: I'll be ready for you.
Morning sunlight streams through the kitchen window as I flip the last pancake, the golden surface perfectly crispy around the edges just the way Mia likes them.
Coffee percolates in the machine beside me, filling the house with a rich aroma as Mia emerges from the bathroom, hair damp from her shower. She's wearing one of my t-shirts, one that hangs to mid-thigh on her smaller frame.
"Smells incredible in here," she says, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind and pressing a kiss between my shoulder blades.
"Your breakfast demands, my lady," I gesture to the spread I've laid out. "Pancakes, bacon, fresh fruit, and coffee. Strong coffee after what I put you through last night."
"You're going to spoil me rotten."
"That's the plan."
She settles at the small table I managed to assemble last week, one of my few completed furniture projects. Her hair catches the morning light, and there's something peaceful about her expression that makes me want to fake an injury and cancel the road trip entirely.
I just want to stay here and spend the day with her. Watch her eat pancakes in my kitchen while she wears my t-shirt.
"What time do you have to be at the arena?" she asks, cutting into her stack with the carefulness of someone who takes her pancake-to-syrup ratio very seriously.
"Ten-thirty. Bus leaves at noon for the airport."
"And you'll call me when you land in Chicago?"
"I'll call you when we take off, when we land, and probably three times in between," I promise, settling across from her with my own plate. "You sure you'll be okay handling the renovation chaos solo?"
"Please. I managed that shelter for years before you showed up with your questionable repair skills." She grins, stealing a piece of bacon from my plate. "Besides, Bear promised to keep an eye on things. And Marcus is bringing his son by to meet Zeus after school."
I try not to react to the mention of Bear, the mountain of a man who seems to find excuses to flex his impressive muscles whenever Mia's around.
The rational part of my brain knows I have nothing to worry about. The less rational part wants to mark my territory like a fucking animal.
"Just remember," I say, reaching across to squeeze her hand, "if you need anything—"
"I know. Call you. No matter what time, no matter how stupid the problem seems." She turns her hand palm up, linking our fingers. "And you remember that missing me doesn't mean you should play like shit just to get home faster."
"Wouldn't dream of it. Coach would bench me permanently if I blew a game because I was distracted by my girlfriend."
"And don't forget, my parents are fifteen minutes away if you need anything. Mom's already planning to drop off casseroles at the shelter while I'm gone." I roll my eyes fondly. "Pretty sure she's more worried about you starving than me scoring goals in Chicago."
Mia laughs. "I know. Your mom texted me a full emergency contact list yesterday."
