Page 8 of Rookie’s Redemption (Iron Ridge Icehawks #5)

"Oh." Emma spots our little gathering and goes pink in the cheeks. "Hi. We were just... checking on the... bathroom situation. For cleanliness. Very important in food service establishments."

Logan grunts something that might be agreement, his ears red.

"Sure you were," Lucy grins. "Is that why you've got Logan's mouth all over your—"

"ANYWAY," Emma cuts her off loudly. "Isn't this nice? Everyone together!"

The awkward silence that follows is broken by Blake's booming laugh from across the room.

"You know what?" I say, making an executive decision. "Why don't we all just sit together? Strength in numbers and all that."

Mia shoots me a look that could melt steel, but she doesn't protest as we migrate toward the big table. Soon we're all squeezed around the oversized wooden monstrosity, with me somehow managing to snag the seat next to Mia.

Small victories.

Soon, Eli appears with a tray of drinks. He's got beer for the guys, wine for the girls, and what looks like a very strong whiskey for Emma, who's still making suggestive eye contact with Logan.

"On the house," Eli announces before returning behind the bar.

The conversation flows around us, hockey talk mixing with gossip and good-natured ribbing. Connor's telling some ridiculous story about a puck bunny who once followed him to three different cities, complete with dramatic reenactments that have Lucy in stitches.

Blake and Sophia are having what looks like a very intense discussion about marketing strategies, which somehow turns into not-so-subtle flirting right before our eyes.

And Logan... Logan's sitting next to Emma like she might bolt at any second, his knuckles white around his beer bottle.

"So," Natalie says, turning to Mia with that innocent expression that means trouble. "How's the shelter?"

I decide to throw Mia a lifeline. She needs a night off work, and that's exactly what she's going to get.

"How about we talk about literally anything else?" I twist in my chair and nudge the Icehawks starting goalie beside me. "Connor, didn't you and Luce have a date last week that went horribly wrong?"

"Hey!" Connor protests. "That wasn't my fault. How was I supposed to know she was allergic to seafood?"

"Maybe when she told you she was allergic to seafood?" Blake suggests.

"Pfft. Whatever," Connor huffs as Lucy rubs his back.

The chatter continues as the conversation shifts, and soon, I feel Mia relax beside me. Under the table, our knees brush, and I don't move away.

Eli eventually appears with food I ordered. Burgers that are perfectly char-grilled, sweet potato fries that are somehow both crispy and fluffy, and onion rings that could be classified as art.

The kind of comfort food that sticks to your ribs and makes you forget your troubles for a while.

"Eat," I murmur to Mia, nudging her plate closer.

She takes a bite of her burger and makes a little sound of pleasure that goes straight to my groin. "Oh God, I forgot how good Eli's food is."

"The man's a wizard," Blake agrees around a mouthful of fries he snatches from my plate. "Best kept secret in Iron Ridge."

"Not exactly a secret when you guys are here three nights a week," Eli calls from behind the bar.

As the evening progresses, I find myself relaxing in rhythm with Mia. When she smiles, I smile. When she laughs, I laugh.

Everything about this feels right. Natural.

Like we're just a group of friends hanging out, no pressure, no expectations.

Later, as I shoot a game of pool with the guys, I can't help but notice Mia's laughing at something Natalie's saying, her whole face lighting up as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.

My chest does this weird tight thing that feels like I'm staring out the back window at my house, looking at the tree I treasure dearly.

The world around me evaporates, and it's just… her.

Mia.

She's so fucking beautiful when she's happy like this.

Her whole face lights up, and those golden flecks in her hazel eyes dance like she's caught direct sunlight inside them.

It hits me right in the chest every time, a reminder of everything I walked away from.

When she's not carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, there's not a soul on this planet who's as gorgeous as she is.

"Dude. You're staring," Logan observes quietly, leaning over and knocking the arm supporting my body out from under me.

I clear my throat and chalk my cue. "Am not."

"You've been staring at her for the last twenty minutes like she's the last piece of pizza and you're on a desert island."

I glance around the table to see if anyone else has noticed, but they're all caught up in their own conversations.

"Is it that obvious?"

"To everyone except her, apparently." Logan takes a sip of his beer. "So did you listen to us? You gonna do something about it, or just sit there making puppy dog eyes all night?"

Before I can answer, Emma stands up, swaying slightly on her feet. "Hey, Big Guy! You. Me. Outside. Now."

Logan's immediately on his feet. "Fuck yeah. I'll walk you out, baby."

They disappear toward the back exit, and all of us laugh and shake our heads at the newest happy couple in town.

By the time we're ready to leave, three glasses of wine has put a flush in Mia's cheeks and loosened her up enough that she's not flinching away from casual contact.

We say our goodbyes, a process that takes approximately fifteen minutes because everyone in this town is incapable of a simple wave, and finally make it outside.

The cold air hits us like a slap, and I look up into the crisp, clean mountain air. Fat snowflakes are drifting down from the dark sky, swirling in the breeze and falling at our feet.

"Ohhhhh," Mia breathes, tilting her face up to catch the snow. "It's beautiful."

I pause for a second, watching how the snowflakes catch in her eyelashes, how her face softens in wonder.

"Yeah. Beautiful ," I mumble.

Except I'm not talking about the snow. I'm talking about her. The girl who's always been my north star, even when I was too stupid to follow. She's standing there with snowflakes catching in her hair, cheeks pink from cold and wine, looking more relaxed than I've seen her since I came back.

I take a deep breath and slide my arm through hers, carefully casual but deliberate nonetheless.

She freezes, looking down at our linked arms, and my heart stops. For a terrifying second, I think I've ruined everything.

But then… she doesn't pull away.

We walk through the falling snow, connected by this fragile bridge between us.

"Do you remember the snowman contest we were in?" I ask, the memory hitting me suddenly as the snow falls heavier on the walk back to my truck.

She nods. "Which time?"

"Senior year. The one where we won first place."

" I won first place," she corrects. "With my brilliant architectural design."

"Your design?!" I stare at her in mock outrage, tugging her closer by the arm linked with mine. " I'm the one who suggested we make it look like Mr. Peterson, the gym teacher!"

"No… You suggested we make it look like a hockey player! I'm the one who said we should give it his mustache and that ridiculous toupee he used to wear."

"The toupee was my idea!"

"Oh my god, Ryder. It so was not!"

We're standing in the middle of the parking lot, arguing about a snowman we built in high school, and yet… it's still the most normal I've felt since coming home.

"You know what?" I bend down and scoop up a handful of snow. "There's only one way to settle this."

Her eyes widen. "Ryder, don't you dare—"

But I'm already packing the snow, grinning at her like we're seventeen again.

"We build new snowmen. Right here, right now. Winner gets to claim credit for the Peterson masterpiece."

"You're insane," she says, but she's already crouching down to gather her own snow. "It's midnight and we're in a parking lot. Only you could come up with something so ridiculous Ryder Heath Scott."

My mouth opens in mock horror. "Um… Did you just middle name me? Mia Gertrude Harper?!"

"You did NOT just use the G-word!" Mia gasps, and before I can blink, a snowball smacks into the side of my truck, right where my head was a second ago.

I dodge sideways, laughing as she scoops up more snow. "Whoa there, Harper! Don't start what you can't finish."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, but then she pauses mid-throw. The fight drains from her posture, replaced by determination as she drops to her knees in the snow.

"Fine," she says, already packing the loaded snowball into an even tighter ball. "A snowman build it is. Prepare to lose, Scott."

I grin, feeling seventeen again. "In your dreams, Gertrude."