Page 40 of Rookie’s Redemption (Iron Ridge Icehawks #5)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mia

I stare at the blue box sitting on the table. A ring box. An actual Tiffany and Co. ring box.

He was going to propose tonight. At Lookout Point. With the lanterns and the champagne and the sunset.

And I ruined it by answering my phone.

"Stupid," I whisper to the empty room. "So stupid."

I try to ignore the box and spread the contracts across the coffee table instead. My hands are still shaking as I look over the endless stack of papers. The Walker & Associates letterhead stares back at me.

Executive Director. Five locations. Doubled salary. Benefits package.

It looks impressive on paper. The kind of career advancement people dream of.

But the language is so cold. So formal.

Nothing about the animals themselves, just numbers and projections and expansion timelines. Nothing about the heart of what I do… About what makes Tails & Paws special.

You think I'd choose work over you?

The question I'd hurled at him echoes in my mind, followed immediately by his devastating response:

I think you're considering it.

And the worst part? He wasn't wrong. For a brief, shining moment, I'd been seduced by the promise of bigger impact, broader reach, more resources. I'd allowed myself to imagine a life beyond Iron Ridge, beyond the small-town shelter I'd built with my own hands.

Beyond the man who came back for me.

I reach for the ring box but stop just short of touching it. I want so badly to see inside, but opening it feels like a violation. Like I'd be stealing a moment that should have been perfect. That Ryder had clearly planned to be perfect.

My eyes drift to the window where I can see our oak tree and the swing gently moving in the evening breeze. The swing I had Bear help me hang because I wanted Ryder to have more than just a view of our past. I wanted us to have a place to build our future.

I glance at the door Ryder stormed through moments ago, and suddenly I'm remembering the night of the charity event.

The way he'd blown a kiss to me from center ice. The way he'd pointed at the fundraising total on the jumbotron, pride and love radiating from him like a physical force.

These people don't want to expand my shelter. They want to replace it with their brand, their vision, their money-making structure.

They'd keep me as the face, sure. The small-town girl with the heartwarming story that makes for good PR.

But the soul of what I've built? That would be gone.

I fought so hard not to fall for him again. Kept my walls up, convinced myself he'd leave again when something better came along.

But he never did. Instead, he showed up. Every single day.

When the shelter was falling apart, he was there with a hammer and determination. When we needed money, he organized a fundraiser that changed everything. When I needed someone to hold me through the night as I drowned in abandoned puppies, he was there. Solid and real and mine.

He chose me. Over and over again.

And what did I do? I held those contracts like they were more important than the life we've been creating together.

Ryder doesn't just support my dreams. He amplifies them. He takes what matters to me and makes it bigger, better, more beautiful.

And he does it without ever changing what made it special in the first place.

That's what real partnership looks like.

I need to find him.

I grab the ring box, careful not to open it, and shove it into my purse. There's only one place Ryder would go when he's hurt, when he needs to feel safe. The same place he used to retreat to when we were teenagers and the weight of expectations felt too heavy to bear.

I know exactly where he is.

I drive through Iron Ridge with tears blurring my vision, streetlights smearing into golden streaks against the night sky. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white.

Eight years ago, I drove this same route after Ryder told me he was leaving for the NHL. That night, I was heartbroken, certain I'd lost him forever.

Tonight feels different. Tonight, I'm fighting for us, not just letting him walk away.

When I pull up to the Scott house, the porch light glows warmly against the darkness. Ryder's truck sits in the driveway, confirmation that my instincts were right.

He's here, in the place where he always felt safest.

I sit in my car for a moment, gathering courage. The walk to the front door feels like crossing a threshold between my old life and whatever comes next. I knock softly, and within seconds, Carol opens the door.

She takes one look at my face and her expression softens with understanding.

"He's upstairs, honey. In his old room," she says, stepping aside to let me in.

The house smells the same as always. Like cinnamon and fresh laundry, the scent of a real home.

Family photos line the hallway, chronicling Ryder's journey from gap-toothed kid to hockey star. I spot several pictures of us together—prom night, graduation, his eighteenth birthday—preserved as if Carol always knew we'd find our way back to each other.

"He was so excited, you know," Carol says quietly as I reach the bottom of the stairs. "About tonight. About asking you."

Guilt slices through me. "I didn't know. I didn't realize until it was too late."

She studies my face for a moment, then reaches out to squeeze my hand. "It's not too late, Mia. It's never too late. Not if you still want this."

"I do," I whisper. "More than anything."

"Then go get him, dear." She gives me a gentle push. "He needs you."

Each step triggers a memory. Sneaking up these stairs after curfew. Tiptoeing past his parents' room, stifling giggles. The countless nights I climbed through his bedroom window because I couldn't bear to be apart from him.

I've walked these halls a thousand times, both as a teenager and in the months since Ryder and I found our way back to each other.

I reach the landing and pause, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The door to Ryder's childhood bedroom is cracked open, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. Through the narrow opening, I see him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

I can see his hockey trophies still lining the shelves.

The same faded posters clinging to the walls.

The twin bed where we first whispered "I love you" to each other at sixteen.

Where we mapped out futures on late summer nights, our bodies tangled together, dreams bigger than the small town outside his window.

I'd forgotten how much of our story lived in this room.

Ryder looks up, and I see the devastation on his face. His eyes are red-rimmed, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

The sight of him like this breaks something loose inside me. All the fear, all the doubt, all the years of protecting myself from loving him again.

He's still the boy who carved our initials into that oak tree. Still the man who came back for me. Still the only person who's ever seen me, seen me and loved every complicated, stubborn, passionate part.

I push the door open fully, and he stares at me like I'm an apparition.

"Dammit. I knew you'd find me here," Ryder says, his voice rough with emotion.

I take a tentative step forward.

"It was either here or the arena," I say, aiming for lightness but failing miserably. "This seemed more likely."

He lifts his gaze to mine, and the hurt in his eyes nearly breaks me. "Mia, I'm sorry I got angry—"

"Don't." I cross the room quickly, dropping to my knees in front of him so we're eye to eye. "Don't you dare apologize. After everything you've done for that place, for the shelter, for me ... I shouldn't have even considered it."

I reach into my purse and pull out the Tiffany box, holding it between us like an offering.

"And I'm not, Ryder. I'm not considering it. I'm not taking their offer."

"Mia—"

"I can try to save all the animals in the world, Ryder, but what would it matter if I lost the one person who makes it all worthwhile?" My voice breaks, but I push on. "You were right. About everything. About them, about us, about what really matters."

He stares at me, hope warring with caution in his eyes.

"The thing is, Ryder Scott, I've spent eight years thinking I had to do everything alone. That depending on someone meant setting myself up to be left behind."

My hands trembling as I hold up the box.

Ryder's eyes widen comically. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not sure how this is supposed to work, but..." I hold out the ring box, still closed. "I think I'm supposed to be on one knee for this part."

A slow smile breaks across his face, and suddenly he's sliding down to kneel in front of me, mirroring my awkward one-kneed position.

"Seriously, Harper? You're stealing my proposal?"

"I'm improvising," I counter, blinking back tears. "Because I need you to know that I choose you. I choose us. I choose the life we're building together in Iron Ridge."

He takes the ring box from my hands, his smile growing. "So you're proposing to me... with the ring I bought for you?"

"Like I said, I'm improvising."

Ryder laughs, the sound washing away the tension of the past few hours. "Well, in that case..."

He opens the box, revealing the most beautiful ring I've ever seen.

"Oh my god. Ryder !"

I gasp at the sight of the ring—a breathtaking solitaire diamond that sparkles at every angle. It's the kind of ring that makes your heart stutter and your fingers tingle before they've even touched it.

The kind that belongs in those viral proposal videos that make you ugly-cry at 2 AM while eating ice cream straight from the carton.

We kneel there, face to face, both of us on one knee, and somehow, it's perfect.

"Will you marry me?" I whisper.

At the exact same moment, he says, "Marry me, Mia."

Our words collide in the space between us, and we both break into laughter, the kind that's edged with relief and joy and a thousand other emotions I can't even name.

"Is that a yes?" he asks, eyes shining.

"Only if you're saying yes too," I counter stubbornly.

Ryder slides the ring onto my finger, and it fits perfectly, like it was always meant to be there. "Worst. Proposal. Ever."

He pulls me into his arms, both of us still kneeling on the carpet of his childhood bedroom, surrounded by hockey posters and trophies and all the memories of where we began.

"No way. Best proposal ever."

I lean up on my knees, and Ryder kisses me deeply. His hands cradle my face like I'm something precious, something irreplaceable.

Every emotion we've ever felt for each other pours into this kiss. A release of all the teenage butterflies, the years of longing, the hurt, the healing, the certainty.

Our tongues meet, and it feels like our hearts are finally, truly joined.

"So... fiancée," he says, testing the word. "Does this mean I'm forgiven for walking out?"

"Walking out again ," I correct him, trying to sound stern despite the giddy happiness bubbling through me. "But yes, you're forgiven. Only if I'm forgiven for almost ruining the most romantic moment of our lives."

"Deal." His lips find mine in another kiss. "I love you, Mia Harper."

"I love you too, Ryder Scott."

We fall back onto his tiny twin bed, laughing as we struggle to fit our adult bodies onto the mattress where we first discovered what love felt like.

It's cramped and uncomfortable and absolutely perfect.

Just like us.