"Mia, you've checked your phone fourteen times since I've been here. That was three minutes ago."
Shit.
"I'm just... making sure he got to Detroit safely. You know how travel can be dangerous these days."
"Uh-huh." Emma settles into the chair beside me, clearly planning to stay for a while. "And how many times did you check to make sure he got to Chicago safely yesterday?"
"That's different. Chicago has terrible traffic."
"And when he gets to Boston?"
"Crime."
"Right. So there's something wrong with every city in the world now?"
I open my mouth to argue, then close it. Because the truth is, I've been checking my phone obsessively every twenty minutes, waiting for his texts like some kind of lovesick teenager.
I love hearing from him, love the little glimpses into his day, but they also remind me how far away he is.
"Fine. I'll admit it. This is harder than I thought it would be," I admit, sinking deeper into his hoodie. It still smells like him… that amazing, sexy scent that makes me want to bury my face in the fabric.
"Good harder or bad harder?"
"Both?" I watch Marcus emerge from the new quarantine room, giving me a thumbs up that suggests the electrical work is going smoothly. "I love that he thinks to text me about random stuff. Like yesterday, he sent me a picture of his hotel breakfast with the caption 'Not as good as my pancakes.' But then I see him living this completely different life, traveling to these amazing cities, playing in front of thousands of people..."
"And you wonder if small-town life is enough for him?"
Exactly.Trust Emma to cut right to the heart of my insecurity.
"I mean, look at this." I gesture around the shelter, which admittedly looks a thousand times better than it did a week ago, but is still ultimately a converted fire station filled with animals and the lingering scent of industrial strength disinfectant. "This is my world. Rescue dogs and renovation chaos and a goat who probably belongs in therapy."
As if summoned, a loud bleat echoes from the supply closet, followed by what sounds like Gandalf expressing his opinions about his accommodations.
"And his world is first-class flights and fancy hotels and arenas full of screaming fans," I continue. "What if being here starts to feel... small?"
Emma studies my face with that perceptive look that means she's about to say something that hits too close to home.
"Mia, do you know what Logan said when he decided to quit hockey and stay here with me?"
"That you're irresistible and he couldn't live without your cinnamon rolls?"
"He said he'd spent years chasing something that felt important, only to discover that the most important thing was right here all along." She squeezes my hand. "Ryder already chose you once, when he came back to Iron Ridge. This road trip? It's just his job. But you? You're his life."
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with another text.
Ryder: This hotel looks like it was decorated by someone who really, really loves the color beige. Send me a picture of something colorful so I don't lose my will to live.
I can't help but smile, snapping a photo of one of the puppies wearing the ridiculous rainbow bandana that Zoe insisted on putting on him this morning.
Mia: Will this do?
Three dots appear and his response comes back immediately.
Ryder: Perfect. Tell him he's a style icon. Miss you x
"See?" Emma says, reading over my shoulder without any shame whatsoever. "That's not the text of a man who's regretting his life choices."
My phone rings before I can argue, and Ryder's name lights up the screen. My heart does that stupid fluttery thing it's been doing for three weeks now.
