Page 4

FOUR

When the plane finally touches down in Florida, I should feel pumped for All-Star Weekend—me and the greats of hockey for a weekend of friendly competition. Ha, who am I kidding? We’re all too competitive for friendly competition. We want the win and the bragging rights that go with it. But instead, my stomach is clenched with nerves at the thought of seeing Hannah.

I try to remember the last time I saw her without Jace hovering like a fly. It’s been over a year, maybe two? Probably since that guys’ trip Jace took over break, when Hannah visited me in Chicago. Every time I’ve seen her since, she’s been on his arm.

Even at her birthday party in September, which I crashed thanks to a tip-off from Natalie—because, of course, Jace didn’t invite me to the surprise party he “planned”—I barely got to say two words to her. Turns out, the whole thing was more about the cameras capturing his life for some docuseries than actually celebrating Hannah.

My heart rate kicks up, like it does every time I think about the way he treated her and how I overlooked it all, thinking I was being a supportive friend.

The humid air slams into me as I exit the airport through automatic sliding doors. Sweat drips down my neck as I head to the car rental line. I already miss the air conditioning, but I won’t go so far as to say I miss the winter chill of Chicago. I shuffle up in the line, trying my best not to get run over by all the people in a mad dash to catch their flights. Wanting to confirm tonight’s plans, I dig out my phone from my pocket and open my messages.

I have two texts waiting for me. One from Beck, my college buddy and fellow NHL player. He’s out in the Metro Division, so we don’t play or see each other often, but I know he’s part of this weekend’s festivities.

Dylan Beck:

Heard you’re here this weekend. A couple of us are getting together tonight, hitting up a bar. You in?

Me:

Sorry, bud. Can’t. See ya tomorrow.

The other message is from my agent. We’ve been playing phone tag for weeks, trying to connect about my upcoming contract extension. He’s been negotiating since the season started, but free agency is looming. The Saints’ general manager keeps promising an offer is on its way, but he says they’re still working on balancing the salary cap.

Mike Greenburg:

Call me. We have to discuss your options.

I know he wants me to consider offers from other teams, but I’m not ready to walk away from the Saints yet.

Me:

Let’s talk when I’m back in town.

Finally pulling up Hannah’s contact, I shoot off a text. Her response, a minute later, has me smiling down at my phone.

Me:

Just landed. I’ll pick you up at 6. Your parents’ place, right?

Hannah:

Yep! Can’t wait.

I get to my rental, a yellow Jeep Wrangler, tossing my duffel into the back seat before settling behind the wheel. Taking advantage of the nice weather, I put the roof down. I connect my phone and press play on my Spotify playlist. The opening riff of “Scar Tissue” by the Chili Peppers reverberates through the truck speakers.

It’s a little over an hour to Hannah’s parents. While I don’t mind the drive, the hockey commitments I have this weekend won’t allow me to go back and forth. My goal is to convince her to come back with me to Sunrise, where the events are taking place. I have a limited amount of time here, so I want to spend as much of it with her as I can.

Did I book a suite hoping to convince her to spend the weekend with me? Yep, I did.

Once I’m in the Palm Beach area, I add a stop to the GPS to pick up something guaranteed to make Hannah smile. I make it there right before they close, securing the goods I pre-ordered. I place the box on the passenger seat and resume driving.

Following the navigation, I drive into a gated community, where houses circle a massive pond with a water fountain in the middle. All the homes look like carbon copies of one another, all McMansions in a Spanish style, light stucco with terracotta-tiled roofs. I could easily afford a place like this now, but it’s worlds apart from how I grew up.

My chest tightens as I park and make my way to the front door. I raise my hand to knock, but before my fist connects with the wood surface, the door swings open. Hannah’s mother greets me—or maybe “greet” isn’t the right word. She stares before letting out a resigned sigh and opening the door wide. “Ryan, come in. Hannah will be down in a minute.”

She’s just like I remember her from the few times we met during college drop-offs. She has the same dark-blonde hair and lightly freckled skin as Hannah.

“Thanks, Mrs. Clarke. How are you?” I straighten my posture, hoping to make a good impression.

“I’m well. I was surprised to hear you were in the area.” She fluffs the already perfect flowers sitting on the foyer table, not meeting my eye.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, I’m excited to be here, but it was a shock for sure.”

“Yes, a shock indeed.” She shoots me an assessing look.

I shove my hands into my pockets, determined not to fidget under her scrutiny.

“I’m sure you think you’re clever, sweeping in like a knight in shining armor. But it’s only a matter of time before Hannah and Jace reunite. It’d be best not to ruffle any feathers in the meantime.” She somehow manages to sound polite despite the barb.

I was nervous my reception wouldn’t be warm, given that I’m a hockey player—and another one just broke her daughter’s heart—but is she seriously defending him ? If it were my daughter, I’d be kicking his ass.

Thankfully, I’m spared from responding when I catch sight of Hannah making her way down the spiral staircase.

Video calls don’t do her justice. She’s even more beautiful than the last time I saw her. Although maybe thinner. I like her better with her soft curves. Her dirty-blonde hair is down in windblown waves, like she spent the day on the beach. Her face is sun-kissed, freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose and flushed cheeks. Dressed in distressed jean shorts and an oversized tee, her legs are tan and look incredibly soft, making me want to run my finger up them. Her feet are clad in her signature slip-on Vans.

She’s absolutely breathtaking.

I unconsciously make my way to the stairs, where she halts on the last step. She’s still shorter than me, even with the boost. Her dark lashes shadow the most uniquely bright shade of green, like a dewy blade of spring grass. Fuck, I’ve missed her.

“Are you ready to go?” she prompts with a knowing smirk on her face. I must look like a chump, shamelessly taking her in from head to toe.

“Yep.” I give her a quick hug. Not nearly enough to satisfy my need for her, but I’d prefer not to have an audience, so I place my hand on her lower back and lead her out the door.