Page 24

Chapter 24

RYLAN

A couple of weeks later, the afternoon crowd at Bean There DoneThat coffee shop fills the air with laptop clicks. From our corner table, the tip of the Space Needle disappears into the low clouds, My phone sits face-up beside my americano, waiting for the weekly update from Dad's rehab facility.

So he'sreallydoing the work?" Louis asks, stirring another sugar into his coffee. "Like, actually participating?"

"Yeah. The counselor says he'sevenvolunteering to lead group sessions."

Austin shifts in his chair."That's... good, right?"

"Yeah, it is."But this sense of hope is weird to me. I can't remember the last time I felt hopeful when thinking about my dad."They say the first thirty days are crucial. But heseemslike he's genuinely committed."

"When can he have visitors?"Louis asks.

"After the first month."I take a sip of my coffee."They want him focused on the program right now. No outside contact except for weekly email updates."

Louis's phone buzzes."Charlie wants to know if we're coming for dinner tonight,"he says instead, checking the text."Says he's found some authentic British pub that's 'proper brilliant, mate.'"

Last night we closed out a six-game home stand, which means we've been in Seattle for over two weeks. We fly out tomorrow for our longest road trip of the season: an East Coast swingthatwill have us play six games in twelve days.

Our record is hovering around .500, and Jamie and I are racking up the points. Last night's goal was the latest example. I found him through an impossible gap in Calgary's defense with a passevenI have to admit was a thing of beauty. Jamie responded by burying it top shelf in a goalthatwill make highlight reels.

Off the ice things are… strange. After getting back to Seattle, I dove right back into my typical routine. I guess I'm a true creature of habit. We maintain careful distance, all professional courtesy, and measured interactions. But sometimes I catch him watching me with those blue eyesthatsee too much, and I remember how his voice soundedthatnight, gentle but firm and confident as he gave me instructions...

"Earth to Collings."Louis kicks me under the table."You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry,just..."I gesture vaguely."Got a lot on my mind." That's the damn truth.

"You going to do dinner?" Lou asks again, his voice softer.

"Nah."I shake my head."Gonna pack and review some game tape. Lie low."

Austin straightens. "Want company?"

"No, it's okay,"I swallow hard."Probably gonna turn in early anyway. Early morning flights are always a grind."

"Yeah, no shit. Gets harder every year,"Lou rolls his eyes. He's been quietly rehabbing a strained groin muscle for the last couple of weeks. Lou hates not being in top form, but Tanner's been stepping up and doing a great job.

"Hey, Ry,"Austin's voice is soft."You know you can talk to us, right? About anything?"

Something in his tone makes my heart race. Has he noticed how I can't stop watching Jamie during practice? Has he picked up on the way I avoid being alone with him because I'm terrified of what might happen.

"Thanks, but I'm good," I reply. "Just gonna chill tonight."

He gives me a lookthatsays he's not buying it, but he doesn't push.

Louis's expression is knowing, but he nods."I'll drop by the pub for a bit, but it'll be an early night. Text if you need anything?"

"Always."

As they gather their things to leave, Louis squeezes my shoulder. The gesture carries twenty years of friendship and unconditional acceptance. Sometimes I wonder how it isthatheseemsto know me almost better than I know myself.

Maybe I'm the only one who's still pretending.

My condo is way too quiet after the bustling coffee shop. Everything is right where it should be: throw pillows arranged at perfect angles, kitchen counters gleaming, Nick's old jersey hanging straight in its frame. But somehow the familiar orderthatusually calms me is only highlighting how empty the space is.

I drop my keys in their designated spot, toeing off my shoes and setting them on the rack by the door. Tomorrow night Jamie and I are sharing a room again, and it's all I can think about.

The video from last night's game loads on my laptop, but I can't focus.

Fuck.

I slam the computer closed, but the silence is more oppressive. Outside my window, Seattle's lights blur in the foggy, rainy darkness and rain. Somewhere in Vancouver, my Dad's doing the work, facing his demons while I sit here hiding from mine.

The weekly update from his counselor said he's doing great. He's learning to talk about Mom and Nick without reaching for a bottle. Meanwhile, I'm still carefully arranging every little aspect of my life, terrified of letting anyone see who Ireallyam.

Except I already didthatwith Jamie, didn't I? I broke myself wide open, and let him see straight into methatnight. I said things, made soundsthatI've never--fucking hell--never let another soul hear. Andthenwhat did I do? Bolted like a fucking coward the first time. And after the FaceTime call it was the same shit, different day. Maybe I didn't run with my actual legs this time, but I came back to Seattle and went right back to shoring up those walls of mine. Building them back, brick by brick, higher and higher.

It's like I'm trapped in this pattern.Evenif I wanted to throw the doors open, and let Jamie all the way in, I wouldn't have the first fucking clue how to dothat.

A group text pops up. Pictures from the gathering at the pub. Jamie's in the background of one shot, laughing at something Charlie's saying. He looks relaxed and happy. Everything I'm not right now.

My phone buzzes again. Louis:"Sure you don't want to join? Charlie's teaching Olivier British drinking songs. Sounds amazing with his French Canadian accent."

"Already in bed," I text back. Lies.

"Ry..."Three dots pop up and disappear a couple of times. Finally:"You can't hide forever."

The words hit harder than they should. Because he's right. I am hiding. From the team, from Jamie, and from myself. The same way I have sinceNick died. Since I first realized I was different.

Another notification pops up, Jamie's liked some comment on the team thread.Justseeing his name makes my stomach clench, remembering how his voice soundedthatnight. "Let me see you, Ry. Want to watch you feel good..."

Heat floods my face. This is why I can't be around him right now. Because every time I see him, I remember how it felt to finally let someone in. To be seen. To be wanted.

And let myself want him back.

The sock drawer stands half-open, all my careful organization mocking me. Dad's finding the courage to change. The team's finding its rhythm. Jamie's finding his place here in Seattle.

And here I am. Stuck. Caught between who I've always been and who I could be. If I was brave enough to try.

My perfectly organized apartment is suffocating. All my careful routines and precise arrangements are nothing more than walls I've built to keep people out. To keep myself in.

Dad's doing the work. Truly attempting to change.

And I'm still here, pretending I don't watch Jamie during practice. Pretending I don't remember every detail ofthatnight in San Diego. And again on our Facetime call. Pretending I'm not falling for him.

Maybe Louis is right. Maybe I can't hide forever.

But tonight I'm going to lie here in my bed, all alone, and wonder if I'll ever be brave enough to let myself have what I want.