Page 35 of Rookie’s Redemption (Iron Ridge Icehawks #5)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ryder

I push through my front door, bags dropping to the floor as I'm hit with the sound of laughter drifting down from upstairs.

Female laughter. Mia's laugh mixed with... my mother's ?

"What the fuck?" I mutter, leaving my luggage in the entryway and following the voices.

The sound of footsteps and muffled conversation grows louder as I climb the stairs, my heart hammering against my ribs. The ring box in my coat pocket feels heavier with each step, pressing against my chest like a reminder of everything I want to ask her.

"Welcome home!"

Both voices call out in unison as I reach the top of the stairs, and I freeze in the doorway to what used to be my disaster of a bedroom.

Holy shit.

This isn't my bedroom anymore. This is... an actual adult bedroom. A real one.

Where my mattress used to sit sad and alone on the floor, there's now a massive king-size bed with a proper frame. Dark wood that looks expensive and substantial, topped with crisp white linens and throw pillows. So many damn throw pillows.

Matching nightstands flank either side, each topped with elegant lamps that cast warm light across walls that are no longer bare. A dozen or so framed photos line the dresser, filled with pictures of me, of my family, of moments I didn't even know someone had captured with a lens.

Blackout curtains frame the windows but remain open, and through the clean glass, I can see our oak tree perfectly, like the whole room has been designed around that view.

"You two did all this?" I manage to say, albeit with a crack in my voice.

Mia steps toward me, worry creasing her brow. She's wearing paint-splattered jeans and one of my t-shirts, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail that makes her look like she's been working hard all week.

And for once, it doesn't look like that hard work has been at the shelter.

"Bear and Marcus helped with the heavy lifting," she says quickly, like she's worried I might be upset. "But I wanted to... I mean, we thought maybe it was time you had an actual bedroom instead of a camping situation."

I look around again, taking in every detail.

The attention to everything—from the way she's positioned the dresser where I never imagined it, to the small reading chair in the corner that's perfectly angled toward both the window and the bed.

This isn't just furniture in the right place or on the right angle.

This is a vision of our life together. All made real while I was away playing hockey in cities that suddenly feel impossibly far from here.

"Do you like it?" Mia's voice is small, uncertain, and I realize I've been standing here staring in silence for too long.

I cross the room and wrap my arms around her, lifting her off her feet. She squeals, her laughter loud against my ear.

For a moment, everything else falls away.

It's just her. Just me. Just this.

"I love it," I breathe against her neck, spinning her around until she laughs. "I love you. I can't believe you did this, babe. I just can't believe it."

Mom clears her throat delicately from where she's been watching our reunion with obvious satisfaction. "Well, I think that's my cue to head home and let you two catch up properly."

She kisses my cheek as she passes, then whispers just loud enough for Mia to hear, "The rest of the house looks pretty good too, dear. You might want to take a full tour."

The rest of the house?

"Mom, what—"

But she shushes me and turns, already heading downstairs, calling over her shoulder, "Dinner Sunday at six! I expect both of you to be there."

The front door closes, leaving us alone in our transformed bedroom.

Our bedroom.

"Mia," I start, but she's already pulling away, nervous energy radiating off her in waves.

"I know it's a lot, and maybe I overstepped, but you said you bought this house for us, and I just thought—"

I silence her with a kiss, pouring every ounce of gratitude and love and overwhelming emotion into the contact. She melts against me immediately, her hands fisting in my coat.

Shit. My coat.

I take a quick step back, remembering the small blue box tucked in my coat pocket. I casually slide my hand over the telltale bulg and take another step back.

"Let me just..." I shrug out of my coat, carefully palming the ring box and slipping it into my jeans pocket in one smooth motion. "Take this off. Long flight."

Mia watches me with a crooked brow and a suspicious look in her eye.

"You okay?" she asks, tilting her head.

"Never better," I answer truthfully. "Now show me what else you've done to our house."

"Yes, well, lucky for you… I'm not finished yet," she says, that mischievous smile I've missed for six days spreading across her face. "Close your eyes."

"Mia—"

"Just shoosh. Trust me. And shut up."

With a chuckle, I let her lead me downstairs and through the house, my eyes obediently closed as she guides me with steering hands on my shoulders.

The ring box presses against my leg with every step, and I have to resist the urge to touch it, to make sure it's still there. The weight of it feels heavier now, more significant, like it's absorbing the magnitude of what she's done for us.

"Careful here," she murmurs, her breath warm against my ear as she steers me around what I assume is furniture. "Just a few more steps."

Cool air hits my face as she opens what I track to be the back door, and my suspicion is confirmed by the strong waft of dewy pine and snow that means we're outside.

"Okay," she says. I can hear the smile in her voice. "You can look now."

I open my eyes and my breath catches in my throat.

There, hanging from the strongest branch of our oak tree, is the most beautiful wooden swing I've ever seen.

The wood is smooth and golden, clearly handcrafted with care, and when I look closer, I can see our initials carved into the side—not the crude teenage carving we did eight years ago, but elegant script that looks like it was done by someone who knows what they're doing.

R.S. + M.H. Forever

"This is our spot," Mia says softly, moving to stand beside me. "I wanted us to be able to share it together... really share it. Not just look at it through the window all the time."

"Mia. I-I… can't speak."

The swing is positioned perfectly to see both the house and the tree, creating this intimate little corner of the world that's entirely ours. Golden afternoon light filters through the branches, catching in Mia's hair like she's been crowned by the sun itself.

I swear even the universe conspires to make her look more beautiful in moments like this, when she's given me something I didn't even know to ask for but somehow desperately needed.

"Forever sounds perfect," I finally manage.

She settles onto the swing, patting the space beside her with a smile that's pure sunshine. I sit down carefully, testing the strength of what Mia tells me is Bear's handy work, and when it seems to hold both our weight easily, I pull her onto my lap.

We swing gently, her body warm against mine, watching the sun start its descent behind the mountains. The peaceful rhythm reminds me of everything I missed while I was away.

"I missed you," I whisper, pressing my lips to her temple.

"I missed you too." She tilts her head back to look at me, and I catch a whiff of that vanilla lip gloss she used to wear in high school. The smell hits me like a memory—Saturday afternoon study sessions, stolen kisses in her parents' driveway, the taste of forever on seventeen-year-old lips.

"You're wearing that lip gloss," I observe, tracing her bottom lip with my thumb.

" Ah. Finally… You noticed."

I laugh and nudge her with my elbow. "Give me enough time and I'll eventually notice everything about you."

I lean down to capture her mouth with mine, tasting vanilla and the promise of everything I've ever wanted.

The kiss deepens, and suddenly six days apart feels like six years. My hands tangle in her hair as she turns in my lap to face me fully, her legs wrapping around my waist on the swing.

"Ryder," she breathes against my mouth, and the need in her voice matches the fire building in my chest. "Do you want to—"

"Absolutely. But maybe..." The swing moves a little to haphazardly. "Inside?"

Mia giggles and nods. "Yes. I don't want to break it on the very first sitting."

We stumble through the back door in a tangle of hands and mouths and built up need. I barely register the subtle changes to the living room, the kitchen, the hallway—all I can focus on is getting her upstairs to our newly perfect bedroom.

I set her down just inside the bedroom door, my hands immediately going to the hem of her t-shirt. She's watching me with dark eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly as I pull the fabric over her head.

"Fuck, I missed you," I breathe, my hands spanning her waist as I drink in the sight of her.

"Show me," she whispers, reaching for my shirt.

We undress each other slowly, not with the frantic desperation that I had imagined for our reunion, but with the deliberate care of two people who want to savor every moment.

When she's finally naked before me, bathed in the golden light from our tree filtering through the new curtains, I have to stop and just look at her.

"You're perfect," I tell her, my hands tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the soft skin of her neck that I've dreamed about for six nights. "This is perfect. All of it."

I lift her onto our new bed— our bed—and follow her down onto sheets that smell fresh and new. The mattress is firm, a vast improvement over the floor situation that had us both waking up with cricks in our necks.

"I love this bed," I murmur against her throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone.

"I love you," she gasps as my mouth finds her breast, teasing her nipple until she arches beneath me.

I take my time exploring her body, reacquainting myself with every inch of skin I've missed.

The way she shivers when I kiss the sensitive spot just below her ear.

The soft sound she makes when I trail my fingers down her ribs.

The way her back arches when I settle between her thighs, finally tasting her wet pussy for the first time in too long.

"Ryder, please," she pleads, her fingers tangling in my hair as I work her closer to the edge.

But I'm not ready to rush this. A week of hotel rooms and airplane food and missing her voice has made me want to worship every moment of being home.

"I missed this," I say against her inner thigh, looking up to meet her gaze. "Missed you. Missed the way you taste, the way you feel."

"Ryder, I'm going to—" she breathes, but her voice breaks on the last word as I return my attention to her clit.

When she finally shatters beneath my mouth, my name a breathless cry that echoes off our new walls, I feel like I could conquer the world.

I kiss my way back up her body, settling between her thighs as she wraps her legs around my waist. I push inside her, and we both go still for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensation of being connected like this again.

"I love coming home to you," I whisper against her lips as I start to move.

Through the window, I can see our swing moving gently in the evening breeze, and beyond it, the lights of Iron Ridge twinkling to life.

This is what I played for these past six days. Not the wins or the statistics or the praise from sports writers. This . Her soft sighs, her nails digging into my shoulders, the way she looks at me like I'm everything she's ever wanted.

The sensation of her climax triggers my own, and I bury my face in her neck as I empty myself inside her, my body shuddering until I fall on top of her.

Later, we lie tangled in our new sheets, her head on my chest. The room is dark now except for the soft glow of the bedside lamps she picked out, and I can hear the peaceful sounds of Iron Ridge settling into evening.

"Tell me about the road trip," she murmurs, her fingers drawing abstract designs across my chest.

"We won all four games," I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "But I spent most of it thinking about coming home to you."

"Good. Because I spent most of the week missing you."

"And trying not to let Bear and Marcus see you crying into your coffee every morning because you missed me so bad?"

She slaps my chest and I laugh, my arms tightening around her. "In your dreams. Don't let it go to your head."

I hold her close, breathing in her hair. The ring box is somewhere in my jeans pocket downstairs. I should go get it. Should ask her right now, while we're naked and surrounded by the home she's created for us.

But something holds me back.

Maybe it's the way she's put so much effort into surprising me, into showing me how serious she is about our future.

Maybe I owe her the same level of planning, the same attention to detail.

I want to make sure I do this right, because I only plan on doing this once.

Mia is the one for me, and when I marry her, that's it for Ryder Scott.

Soon, I promise silently, my hand unconsciously moving to where my heart is beating against my ribs. Very soon.

"I love you," I tell her instead, pulling her up for another kiss.

"I love you too," she whispers against my lips. "And welcome home."

Home.

Yeah. This is definitely home.