Page 33 of Rookie’s Redemption (Iron Ridge Icehawks #5)

Chapter Twenty

MIa

T he next morning arrives with the kind of crisp mountain air that makes everything feel possible.

I'm feeding the puppies their breakfast when I hear the familiar sound of a car door slamming in the parking lot, followed by the cheerful voice of someone who clearly doesn't know the shelter isn't officially open yet.

"Mia, dear! Are you in there?"

Carol Scott's voice carries through the front door, and I feel an immediate rush of warmth. I hurry to unlock the entrance, finding her standing on the steps with a thermal bag in one hand and a tray of coffee in the other.

"Mrs. Scott—Carol," I correct myself, remembering her insistence on informality. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Oh, I was up at dawn anyway, and Tom kept going on about how you're probably living on takeout and caffeine while Ryder's away." She pushes past me into the shelter, taking in the renovation progress with obvious approval. "Besides, I wanted to see these improvements Ryder keeps gushing about."

Takeout and caffeine?

First Emma dropping off muffins yesterday, now Carol with breakfast. Next thing I know, Sophia will arrive with lunch and Natalie with dinner.

Does everyone in Iron Ridge think I'll starve without supervision? I survived eight years feeding myself just fine when Ryder wasn't around to "worry" about me.

Carol sets her bags down on the front desk and starts unpacking what appears to be enough food to feed a small army. I can see where Ryder gets it.

Fresh muffins—the lemon blueberry ones that smell like Sunday mornings—thermoses of what I'm sure is perfectly brewed coffee, and what looks like a casserole dish that's still warm.

"Carol, you didn't have to do all this."

"Nonsense. You're taking care of everyone else." She gestures toward the back room where Zoe is busy feeding the animals. "Someone needs to take care of you."

The simple kindness in her voice makes my throat tight.

"How is he doing? Really?" I ask, accepting the coffee gratefully. "He sounds good when we talk, but..."

"But you want to know if he's homesick?" Carol's smile is knowing.

"Honey, that boy has been calling us every single night, and at least half of every conversation is about you.

Yesterday he spent twenty minutes describing the text you sent him about one of those adorable puppies learning to sit on command. "

"That's... actually really sweet."

"He's smitten," Carol says simply, then looks around the shelter with curious eyes. "Mind if I help with the morning routine? I used to volunteer at the animal shelter in the next town over before we moved to Iron Ridge."

"Of course! I'd love the company." I wave her toward the back room, carefully stepping over a pile of sawdust. "Just be careful of the tools. These men don't know how to clean up after themselves. I swear, it's like they think hammers magically sprout legs and walk back to the toolbox at night."

Carol laughs, following alongside me. "Oh honey, that's just men in general. Tom once left his socket wrench set scattered across our entire garage for a week. Said he was in the middle of a project." She rolls her eyes fondly. "The project was finished days ago."

"Like father, like son," I mutter, remembering how Ryder's house looks right now. "Though I suppose I can't complain too much. They're doing amazing work here."

I get to work and Carol proves to be surprisingly adept at handling everything from the smallest kitten to the largest rescue dog. She has a natural way with the animals, speaking to them in a soft, motherly voice that immediately puts them at ease.

"You know, dear," she says as we clean the kennels. "Ryder bought that house of his eight months ago."

I pause in the middle of refilling a water bowl. "Eight months?"

"Mmhmm. Paid cash, had all these grand plans for renovation. Spent weeks measuring rooms." Carol's voice is carefully casual, but I can sense there's a point to this story. "But you know what's interesting?"

"What?"

"He stopped working on it the day he was assigned to you during that hockey program."

The Community Outreach Initiative.

I set down the water bowl, turning to face her fully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's had furniture picked out, renovation plans drawn up, the whole nine yards.

" Carol straightens up from the kennel she's cleaning, fixing me with those warm brown eyes that I remember from my high school afternoons spent at her home.

"But the moment he started volunteering here, everything else got put on hold. "

"I don't understand."

"Don't you?" Her smile is gentle. "Mia, dear, for eight months that boy talked about turning that house into a home. But he never seemed excited about it. It was just another project, another thing to check off his list."

She moves to the next kennel, where Princess the pug is holding court like the canine royalty she believes herself to be.

"But these past few weeks? He calls us every night talking about your work here, about the shelter renovations, about how proud he is of what you've built. He's been so focused on being part of your world, dear… that he's forgotten about building his own."

Something clicks in my mind and her words suddenly settle over me.

"He's been choosing time with me over everything else."

"Exactly." Carol winks at me and reaches through the kennel bars to scratch Princess behind the ears. "And I'm not saying that's necessarily a bad thing, but..."

"But?" I prompt impatiently.

"But I think he's starting to realize that if he wants to build a future with you, he needs to actually build it. Literally." She turns to face me fully, her expression serious. "He's been talking about the house differently lately. Not as his house, but as... well. As your house. Yours together."

My heart does that fluttery thing again, but this time it's mixed with a sudden sense of panic.

"Carol, we've only been together for a few weeks. Officially, I mean."

"Officially, yes. But Mia, that boy has been in love with you since you were both seventeen. This isn't some new relationship where you're figuring out if you're compatible." Her smile is soft but knowing. "This is just picking up where you left off."

She's right, and that's what terrifies me.

Because somewhere along the way, without really meaning to, I've started thinking about the future too. Not just dating Ryder, but building something with him. Something permanent.

"He's been calling contractors from the road," Carol continues, apparently oblivious to my minor existential crisis. "Trying to coordinate work on the house while he's traveling. I think he wants to have everything perfect when he gets back."

"Perfect for what?"

Carol gives me a look that suggests I'm being deliberately obtuse. "For whatever comes next, dear."

The sound of power tools firing up in the renovation area saves me from having to respond to that statement. Bear's voice booms over the noise, calling out instructions to Marcus about something involving electrical outlets and proper grounding.

"Those men are doing beautiful work," Carol observes, watching Bear effortlessly lift a kennel unit that probably weighs more than I do. "Very professional."

"They're amazing. I couldn't have asked for better contractors."

"And very handsome," she adds with a mischievous glint in her eye that reminds me powerfully of her son. "No wonder Ryder's been a little jealous."

"He told you about that?"

Carol laughs. "I told him that security in one's relationship doesn't come from the absence of attractive people in the world."

"And what did he say to that?"

"He said he'd feel more secure when he was home to remind you why you chose him in the first place."

The possessive note in that statement, even secondhand, makes my stomach flutter. I'm about to respond when my phone buzzes with a text.

Ryder: Morning, beautiful. Can you believe this city charges forty dollars for room service coffee. Can't wait to be home with you. How's your morning going?

I show Carol the text, and her face lights up with maternal pride.

"See? He's thinking about you before he's even fully awake."

I type back quickly: Your mom brought me real coffee and muffins, so my morning is significantly better than yours. She's also helping with the animals and being generally wonderful.

His response comes immediately: Of course she is. Tell her I love her and that she's not allowed to embarrass me too much.

I show Carol the response, and she huffs in mock indignation.

"Embarrass him? I would never. I'm simply being friendly."

"What should I tell him you said?"

"Tell him his mother is a delight and that you're lucky to have me as a future mother-in-law."

I nearly choke on my coffee. "Carol!"

"What? Am I wrong?"

Before I can formulate a response that doesn't involve stuttering incoherently, Bear appears in the doorway to the main area.

"Miss Harper? Sorry to interrupt, but the new water system is officially complete. Want to come take a look?"

"Of course." I stand, grateful for the distraction. "Carol, want to see the progress?"

"I'd love to."

We follow Bear into the kennel area, where the transformation is nothing short of miraculous. The new kennels are a sight under the improved lighting installed yesterday, each one now professionally equipped with automatic water dispensers and food stations.

"This is incredible," Carol breathes. "Mia, you should be so proud."

I am proud. But as I watch Carol move through the renovated shelter, pointing out improvements and asking thoughtful questions about my plans for expansion, I realize something else.

I want to share this pride with Ryder.

He's stopped living his life… and he's stopped living it for me. He's put on the fundraiser that made all of this possible. But not only that, he also spends more time here than at his own house.

Now maybe it's his turn.

I want him to see what his fundraising made possible, want to walk through these improvements together.

More than that, I want to do something for him. Something that shows I'm not just along for the ride in this relationship, but an active participant in building our future, one renovation at a time.

Whether that's here, at my shelter, or at his house. The house, he swears he bought for me.

"Carol," I say suddenly, interrupting her conversation with Bear. "What would you say if I told you I wanted to surprise Ryder when he gets home?"

Her eyes light up with interest. "What kind of surprise?"

I look around at the nearly completed shelter renovations, at Bear and Marcus who've proven they can work miracles with the right motivation, at Carol who's clearly invested in seeing her son happy again.

"The kind that involves turning a house into a home."

Carol's smile is radiant. "Oh, honey. I think that's a wonderful idea."

"You think he'd be okay with me coordinating work on his house while he's away?"

"I think," Carol says carefully, "that he'd be thrilled to come home and find that you've taken ownership of the space you're going to share."

The space we're going to share. The assumption in that statement should probably terrify me.

Instead, it feels like a challenge.

"Bear," I call out, and the mountain of a man looks up. "How do you feel about a side project?"