Page 7

SEVEN

“Why haven’t you been responding to my texts or answering my calls?” Jace corners me in the hall. I should have known when he waved during the event that he’d try something. It’s only been a little over a week since the day that blew up my life, but seeing him now is still too soon.

“Well, usually when people ignore you, it’s because they don’t want to talk to you. I know, a crazy concept.”

“Don’t be that way, Hannah.” He raises his hand to touch my face, which I dodge.

“What do you want, Jace?”

“Let me take you out to dinner tonight.”

For a brief moment, my heart twists as I look into his aquamarine eyes, softer than I remember. How many times have our eyes met over the years—my green to his blue? I thought we’d have a lifetime of those connections, but now, there’s no future, nothing left. Just the weight of everything we lost. I guess my two-point-five-day grief timeline was faulty.

My vision blurs momentarily, and when it clears, I’m staring directly at his neck. There’s a mark there, unmistakably left by a woman’s lips. The sight churns my stomach, conjuring images I’d rather not think about. Jace telling me he wanted to be with other women hurt, but seeing the evidence with my own eyes makes me feel sick.

I’ve accepted that we’re over, and I have no interest in giving him another chance. However, I’d be lying if I claimed complete immunity. Seeing him move on so quickly is a blow to my already fragile ego, but perhaps the reminder of his true character is exactly what I need.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” I arch my brow and tap on my neck, where the mark on his is. “No, I don’t want to have dinner. Can you move out of my way now?”

His eyes widen, and he brings his hand up to cover the evidence. Too late, buddy. “Oh, that was meaningless. Not like us. You know I still love you, don’t you? Please, let’s talk about this over dinner.”

I feel my eyes roll as I huff out a breath. “No. You’re unbelievable.”

“Are you here with Logan?” He somehow takes up more of my personal space.

“With Ryan? Yes.”

“Are you with him? Were you with him when we were together? I always thought there was something between you two.”

Nope. I was faithful to you, dumbass. Instead, I say, “Get out of my way, Jace.”

He huffs out a breath as he tilts his head up. When he looks back down at me, his expression transforms into one of annoyance. “Do you have the ring for me?”

“I—” Why are the words so hard to get out? Of course, I expected this after he demanded the ring back, but the reality hits harder than I imagined. It’s not like he’s short on money. Why is getting it back so important to him? Why is giving it back so monumental to me?

I dig into my backpack, my fingers searching until they find the velvety square of the ring box. Gripping it tightly, I pull it out. It feels like I’m handing over more than just a stone and some metal, the weight heavier than a three-carat ring should hold.

This moment makes things far more final than any of the words that brought us here. It’s the last piece of my old life, and once I hand it over, I know there’s no getting it back—not the ring, not him, not the life I thought we’d have.

“Here.” Before I can second-guess it, I place it in his open palm, where he quickly slips it into his pocket.

“Thank you,” he says, sounding more resigned than grateful.

My back presses firmly against the wall as he leans in closer. His face inches toward mine and panic flashes through me. Is he about to kiss me? The thought alone makes me cringe. One moment, he’s tilting his head toward me, and the next, he’s wrenched away, stumbling to keep his footing.

Ryan stands in front of me, blocking my view of Jace. “I think she’s done talking, Knolls,” he says over his shoulder, his voice so gravelly it sounds like a growl.

When he turns back toward me, his expression transforms from rage to soft concern. “Are you okay?”

I nod, unable to find the words to express how I feel, my heart pounding like a drumbeat. Ryan surrounds me, but unlike with Jace, who made me feel boxed in and trapped, Ryan makes me feel protected and secure. Ignoring the fact that Jace is still in the hall with us, I cup Ryan’s jaw and brush my thumb across his scruff. “I’m okay. Can we go?”

“Yeah, let’s go, Sunshine.” Taking my hand, he leads us toward the locker room.

Footsteps sound on the carpet behind us, and Ryan throws a steadying arm over my shoulders, holding me close. I bury my head against his chest and mutter, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. You looked uncomfortable; that’s the only reason I interrupted. I wasn’t sure if?—”

“No, I’m glad you did.”

“Hey, Logan!” Jace’s footsteps get closer, echoing through the mostly empty hall.

We both ignore him and keep walking, but then Jace’s hand grips Ryan’s arm, tugging us to a stop. Ryan spins around to face him, his eyes narrowing as he shrugs Jace’s hand off his shoulder.

“I wasn’t done talking to her,” Jace says, his voice low with irritation.

“Well, I think Hannah was done talking to you,” Ryan responds, calm but firm. I nod in agreement, but Jace doesn’t even glance at me, locking his glare on Ryan.

“You’re speaking for her now?” Jace challenges.

“Nah, I’m not you.”

Jace finally shifts his attention to me. “Hannah, can I have a word?”

“No, like I told you, we’re done talking.”

His gaze shifts to Ryan’s hand resting on the back of my neck in silent support. He shakes his head before turning and walking off in the opposite direction.

Ryan guides me toward the locker rooms, but when he doesn’t stop at the doorway, I dig my heels in, bringing us both to a halt. He turns to me, eyebrows raised.

“I can’t go in there,” I say, through a laugh.

He’s been a man on a mission, silent on the short walk here. He looks around like he’s just now noticing our surroundings. We’re blocking the entrance, causing players to skirt around us to exit the locker room. Ryan’s brows lower as he looks down at me. “I can’t leave you out here alone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Ryan isn’t in full gear, so it shouldn’t take him long to change. I just hope Jace doesn’t change his mind and come back this way. I glance down the hallway, tension tightening my stomach, before turning my gaze back to Ryan.

His features shift, resolve settling over him. I expect him to leave me here. Instead, he bends down, brings my belly to his shoulder, and hoists me up.

“Put me down!” I shriek, hanging awkwardly against his back.

“Don’t look around.” He proceeds to carry me into the room. I can’t see anything beyond the back of his red jersey. After a few strides—and some puzzled remarks from players in various stages of undress—the room comes into focus as he sets me down on a bench with a cubby behind it. Yep, I’m in the locker room. My cheeks heat, and I keep my eyes on the caveman standing in front of me.

It’s not a terrible view. Made even better when he pulls the jersey over his head, revealing a strong, muscled chest. His hand gently grasps my jaw, closing my momentarily gaped mouth. “Like what you see?” he asks with a smirk. Reaching behind me, he pulls a shirt free from the locker.

When my brain finally comes out of the gutter and back online, I slap his firm abs. “Never been in one of these. I’ve been missing out,” I taunt.

I look around for more eye candy, just to annoy him. But before I can fully turn my head to survey the room, he cups my face. “Don’t even think about it.”

I bat my lashes and give my best who me? smile. He chuckles and reaches behind me, pulling out two sweatshirts like a magician with a bottomless hat. What else does he have stashed in there? Suddenly, a soft fleece wraps around me, momentarily obscuring my vision as the scent of pine and citrus surrounds me. When I can see again, he’s tugging the hood over my head, gently adjusting it so it frames my face just right. “There, now you have blinders. You can only see me,” he says, laughter in his voice.

“You’re all I ever see.” I mean it to come off jokingly, but it sounds like flirting, even to my ears. It’s confirmed by his shy smile.

“Where are we off to now?” I ask from the passenger’s side of the Jeep. On our way out of the arena, Ryan told me he planned something for us this afternoon, but he has yet to spill where we’re going.

He looks over at me and smiles. “Here, give me the sweatshirt. You must be burning up now that we’re outside.”

I am, it’s like a sauna in here. I don’t want to ruin the sweatshirt’s scent with my sweaty one, but it’s oddly comforting to be wrapped in it. Reluctantly, I remove it and hand it to him, but maintain my grip on it. “It’s mine now, though, so you have to give it back.”

He laughs. “Okay, deal.”

“So, where are we going?” I ask again, pressing the button to open the roof. Ryan complains it’s hot, but this is probably the best weather we get all year.

“I found this place for airboat tours in the Everglades. We’re going to see some gators, Sunshine,” he says excitedly.

“You’ve never seen an alligator?”

“Nope, I’m a Midwestern boy, remember?”

“How could I forget? Are we going to get some pop on the way there, too? Maybe a pit stop at a crick?” I try to hold back my laughter, but it slips out anyway. Secretly, I like his Midwestisms, as I call them. But it’s definitely soda, not pop.

“Your interpretation of Midwestern slang is cute.” There’s a moment of silence before he continues, “Are you okay? With what happened back there?”

“No.” I pause for dramatic effect. “Seeing your eight-pack abs was a real hardship.”

He throws his head back against the seat. “You’re on a roll today.”

I’ve gotten pretty good at steering conversations away from topics I’d rather avoid. “I’m good, I promise,” I lie.

If I was having a hard time before keeping my thoughts of Jace in a neatly packed box tucked into the attic of my mind, seeing him today made it ten times more difficult. Yet, at the same time, seeing him move on has given me the fuel I needed to do the same. I refuse to sit around crying over a man who’s already in bed with someone new. Absolutely not; I have more self-respect than that.

Ryan and I slip into comfortable silence, but before long, I’m humming along to the music, which turns into full-on singing. I almost feel bad for Ryan’s ears, but when I glance over, he’s clearly entertained as I belt out the lyrics, making up a few when I don’t know them. The rest of the ride is more of the same—me singing, Ryan teasing me, and both of us breaking into fits of laughter.

As we pull off the rural highway and onto the gravel road that leads to our destination, I spot a wooden sign promising baby animals. “Oh my God! They have baby gators. Can we go see them first?” I nearly shout in my excitement.

“I thought gators weren’t a big deal to you Floridians?” He chuckles. “Yeah, let’s go see them.”

We make our way through the entrance booth and secure tickets for the boat tour, as well as the package that includes a photo op with the baby alligators. I’m sure this is an attraction meant for children, but I’m pumped.

As we wait in line, with an hour to spare before the boat departs, Ryan adjusts his hat, which does little to conceal his identity. But it’s not the hat’s fault—his towering six-foot-three frame and the natural air of authority he carries make him stand out. Even without knowing who he is, you can tell he’s someone important.

“Do you get recognized often when you’re out in Chicago?” I ask, giving voice to my inner thoughts.

Ryan looks at me with a puzzled expression, likely because of my random question. “Sometimes, but not a lot. Unless I’m with a group of my teammates or in Saints’ gear, I can usually go unnoticed. Why?”

“I was just curious. I guess I’ve gotten used to not being able to do silly little things like this.” I twirl the ring around my thumb, clearing my throat before continuing. “When I was with Jace, fans would approach him all the time, and he’d always complain about it. It never bothered me, but it always put him in a bad mood. I mean, without fans, he wouldn’t even have a job. The least he could do was show them some appreciation. But he wanted to avoid it, so we avoided it.”

“I’m sorry, Hannah, that really sucks. I’m glad I get to be the one here with you today. And hey, one perk of hanging out with someone not on the cover of EA NHL 24 ?” He raises his brows and holds his hands out in a playful gesture.

I laugh and shove his broad shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.

We reach the front of the line and are called up by the alligator handler. “Right up here, folks,” he says, pointing to a mark on the ground where we’re told to stand. “Well, aren’t you a lovely couple?” I open my mouth to correct him, but he continues to give us directions, “Sir, you hold Albert right here under his front legs, and Miss, you can hold his tail.”

Ryan secures the tiny gator with one large hand as instructed, then with his other hand pulls me closer and drapes his arm over my shoulders. “Say gator !” the handler calls just before the camera flashes.

When I leave the Everglades in the early evening, my hair is windblown and tangled, my cheeks ache from the constant smile on my face, and I have a wallet-sized photo of Ryan and me holding Albert the alligator tucked in my purse. And that night, before I fall asleep, I spend more time than I probably should staring at the photo of us.