Page 22

Chapter twenty-two

Colton: Dogs and Declarations

T he apartment felt too quiet. Too still. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the half-packed duffel beside me, the fabric wrinkled where I’d shoved in clothes without thinking.

She hadn’t said anything about the future. Nothing about coming to see me play. Nothing about us figuring it out. Nothing at all.

And suddenly, I felt ridiculous. Like I had built this thing up in my head, convinced myself that somehow—someway—she saw this the way I did.

Maybe I read it all wrong.

The kiss. Her hand in my hair. The way she said “stay.”

And now—nothing.

Maybe that kiss was just a moment. Maybe she never believed in me at all.

I let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to shake it off. This isn’t new. People take one look at me and decide they know how the story ends. That’s how it’s always been.

I just thought she saw something different. Thought she saw me. But when I was standing right in front of her, laying it all out—she didn’t fight for me. Didn’t even try.

I pressed my palms against my knees, leaning forward, breathing through it.

I had just told my father I wasn’t going to let anyone dictate my life anymore.

Guess I should’ve included Riley in that, too.

I pushed off the bed, grabbing my duffel by the straps and hauling it over one shoulder.

I headed for the living room, barely paying attention to where I was walking.

Until my gaze landed on the pile of team gear against the wall.

I exhaled sharply. I ran a hand over my jaw, trying to steady my breathe.

I just wanted to sit here. Stay still. Not talk to anyone.

Not think. Just wait until it didn’t feel like something had been ripped out of me.

But I leave tomorrow.

“I need to get this stuff over to the rink.” I sounded more sure than I felt.

I can't just leave without saying goodbye.

Riley wasn’t the only one who helped me turn things around. They did too. The guys, the coaches, the people who tried to help me, when I thought I was past saving.

I really want to hide out in my apartment until it's time to go to the airport. But I owe the guys at least one last fist pump.

***

I barely made it two steps inside before Coop spotted me, grinning like an idiot.

Coop knocked his shoulder into mine, shaking his head.

"You really went and pulled off the dream—big leagues, perfect girl—just in time for geography to ruin everything. Brutal, man."

“Thanks, man.” I shifted my weight.

So,” Coop said, knocking his shoulder into mine, “is Riley excited? She joining our coaching staff now or what?”

I exhaled,“I don’t know, man.”

Coop blinked. “What do you mean, you don’t know? That girl is all in, right? You’re all in.”

I shrugged, shifting my weight. “She’s been the best thing to happen to me. But I’m not sure she feels the same way.”

Coop stared at me like I just told him I was considering a career in figure skating. Then he scoffed.

“Okay, well, before you make life-altering decisions based on vibes, maybe be sure first.”

I didn’t say anything.

He lifted his hands. “Seriously, dude. If you walk away without knowing for sure, you deserve a slap shot to the ribs.”

"Thanks for the unsolicited life coaching.”

Coop laughs, dragging me into a brief, half-hearted headlock before shoving me back. “Seriously, dude. Think about it. ”

I looked over the administrative areas. The light in the coach’s office was on.

The door was open. No turning back now.

He looked up as I stepped in, setting down whatever paperwork he’d been reviewing.

“All packed?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Bag’s ready to go. I returned all the gear I had at home, too.”

Coach gave a slight nod.

I cleared my throat. “I just wanted to say thanks. For everything.”

His gaze sharpened. He waited.

So I kept going. “I know I wasn’t exactly the easiest guy to deal with when I got here.”

That got a dry chuckle. “Not exactly.”

“But I learned a lot.” I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. “Not just about hockey. About…” I hesitated, then shook my head. “Life, I guess.”

Coach leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Studying me like he was weighing his words before he spoke.

“Hockey’s important,” he said finally, “but so is knowing what you’re fighting for. You’ve worked hard to prove yourself. Don’t stop fighting now.”

I knew he wasn’t just talking about the game.

The rink was quieter now, only a few guys still lingering. That’s when I spotted Ryan.

He looked up as I approached, giving me the usual nod.

I exhaled. “Just wanted to say thanks.”

Ryan’s brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“For introducing me to Riley,” I added. “Of all the coaches I’ve had, she was one of the better ones.”

That got a short chuckle. “She’d like hearing that.”

“She’d also tell me I still need work.”

Ryan shrugged. “Good coaches keep pushing.”

He paused, then glanced at me more directly. “But they only help if you listen. You did, so this turnaround is about you, too. You’re going back up because you deserve it. Step on the ice like you belong there. Because you do.”

I know I do. It's just nice to hear someone else say that.

“Colton, now that I no longer have to keep your ass in line, I want you to know something.” He paused, “You’re still that guy who drove us to the hospital when my dad was sick.”

A beat.

“When you aren’t being a jerk.”

I huffed out a laugh, dragging a hand over my face. “Your sister told me the same thing.”

Ryan smirked. “You should probably listen to her.”

***

The parking lot outside the rescue was quiet. The building was dark except for the single motion-activated light over the entrance. I let myself in with the spare key Riley had once tossed at me.

I didn’t turn on all the lights. Just enough to see where I was going.

The kennel near the back rustled as the big one—Tank, the one Riley always said needed extra exercise—stood up and let out a soft whine. He thumped his tail once against the side of the enclosure.

“Yeah, I hear you,” I muttered. “You look like you could use a run.”

So could I.

I grabbed a leash and opened the gate. Tank didn’t hesitate. He followed me out like we’d done this routine a hundred times.

Out back, under the dim floodlights that barely reached the dog run, I tossed a half-chewed tennis ball across the space. Tank tore after it, paws kicking up dirt, ears flapping. He raced back and dropped the ball at my feet.

I threw it again. And again.

Each toss, each run, each drop—it gave me something to latch onto while my thoughts circled everything that had hit me today.

Colton, are you sure before you walk away?

You deserve this call-up.

Step on the ice like you belong there.

The ball hit the ground with a dull thud, rolling to a stop near my foot. This time, the dog didn’t wait for me to throw it. He nudged my leg, waiting. I crouched beside him, fingers curling into his fur.

After a while, when Tank slowed down and flopped in the corner with his tongue lolling, I walked him back inside and returned him to his kennel. He didn’t complain. Just wagged his tail once and curled up.

I moved down the line, refilling water bowls. One by one. The metal clink of the pitchers breaking the silence.

“Bet you’re all wondering what I’m doing here.” A few of them blinked up at me. One barked. I shook my head.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here.” I kept moving. Quiet. Methodical. Dropped a treat into one bowl, then another.

“I’m leaving,” I said finally. “Got the call. They want me back. Tomorrow.” No barks this time. Just tails thumping. Heads tilted.

“I should be excited, right? Big shot comeback. I did what I came here to do.” I stopped at the last kennel—the one with the scruffy little guy Riley always said was the best judge of character.

He watched me closely. I opened his kennel and stepped in. “But it doesn’t feel done.”

I crouched down. Rested my forearms on my knees. The dog moved closer, nose pressed against my legs.

“Why is it so hard for me to tell the woman I love that I want her?" The dog pressed closer, muzzle nudging against my arm.

“I love her, and I still don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to do next.” I stood, brushing off my hands, and turned to head out.

Except the scruffy dog wouldn’t let go of my sleeve. He tugged, low growl rumbling in his throat. Not mean. Just stubborn.

I stared down at him. “I don’t know what to do buddy.”

He tugged again. I sighed, kneeling one last time. My voice was rough. Tired.

“Why is it so hard to tell the woman I love that I want her?” I whispered.

A light flicked on down the hallway. I straightened. Brushed off my jeans.

Someone was here. A shadow moved behind the glass. Then the door creaked open.

Riley stood there, phone in hand, hair pulled back in a messy twist like she’d left in a hurry. She held the phone up, her brow lifted.

“I got an alert from the security camera,” she said. “Thought maybe it was raccoons again. Didn’t expect…” Her gaze landed on me. “You.”

I scratched the back of my neck. “Yeah. Sorry. I probably should’ve texted.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just leaned against the doorframe, still holding the phone like she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

My brain scrambled for something better to say—something that didn’t make me sound like a guy who broke into a dog shelter just to pour his heart out to a pack of mutts.

But that’s exactly what I was.

She stepped in a little farther, closer now. The light from the hallway brushed her face.

All I can think about is how it felt to hold that face in my hands.

"Are you really just going to leave?" she asked. "Without seeing if there was a way to make us work?"

Not quite a smile. Not quite a smirk. But something open. Something trying.

She was meeting me halfway.

I took a slow step towards her. “What do you want, Riley?”

She let out a breath and glanced down.

“I want you to go,” she said.

My brow lifted.

She looked back up, eyes narrowing. “No—I mean, I don’t want you to go. But I do. Ugh.” She shook her head. “You earned this, Colton. You worked your butt off, and I’m so proud of you.”

She took another step, her voice quieter now. “I love the reason you’re going. I just hate that it means you have to leave."

I studied her for a long moment, my voice low. "You didn’t ask how this would work. Or if I wanted you to come see me play. So, what am I supposed to think?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her hand tugged once at the hem of her sleeve before she finally spoke.

“I just… I don’t know how this works, Colton.” She glanced up at me, then away again. “I don’t know if I can do long distance. I don’t know if I can watch you leave and not feel like my heart’s being ripped out.”

“So, what?” I asked. “You’d rather end things before we even try? Because that’s what it feels like.”

She pressed her lips together.

I took a small step forward.

“Look, I don’t have all the answers either.” I reached out—slow, steady—and caught her hand.

“But I know one thing—I want you. I want you to be a part of my life. I don’t care if that means flights back and forth, calls at weird hours, or figuring it out as we go. I just need to know if you’re willing to try. Because I’m all in.”

Riley swallowed hard. Her eyes met mine, and her voice came quietly. "Okay."

I blinked. "Okay? Okay what?"

She gave a shaky breath, lips lifting just slightly. “Okay… I don’t know how. I can’t promise I won’t freak out sometimes. But I want to try. To figure it out. With you.”

I closed the gap between us, cupping her face in both hands—steady, sure, like I needed her to feel how certain I was. And kissed her.

Her breath hitched as our mouths met, her hand tightening around mine like she needed something to hold onto. She kissed me back, fierce and unguarded, like she was done holding back.

The world dropped away. No flights, no teams, no headlines. Just the two of us..

My hands slipped down from her face. I gathered her to me.

Her hand slid up my chest. Her fingers twisting into the hair at the base of my neck, tugging just slightly—just enough to send a bolt of heat straight down my spine.

My grip tightened and my left hand glided slowly down, tracing the length of her spine, settling at the small of her back—pressing her closer like I needed her to know there wasn’t a single part of me holding back now.

She didn’t hesitate. Her other hand threaded through my hair.

It was messy. Breathless. Real. And for once, nothing about it felt temporary.

When I finally pulled away, our foreheads rested together.

“You have no idea,” I whispered, “how much I was hoping you’d say that."

I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight.