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"Alright," I echo, but the word feels hollow.
We hang up, and the quiet returns, now a suffocating blanket rather than a comforting embrace. My grip tightens on the steering wheel. Loneliness gnaws at me, and the thought thatmaybe I'm too much for Jayden—or not enough—whispers through the cabin like a ghost.
I turn off the main road, and the Jeep rolls into my driveway. I wonder if Jayden could ever truly accept what lies beneath the surface of Ryder Raines.
With a push of the ignition button, the engine stops, and I kill the headlights. My phone glows in the cup holder, and Jimmy's question echoes in my head—why no parties? The truth is, every beat of my heart spells out Jayden's name, but it seems she's scrubbing herself from my life, letter by letter.
I lean back in my seat. It would be easy to slip back into the circuit, find a warm body at one of Match Me Bunny's decadent soirees. Someone who might not flinch at my desires, who could provide a temporary plaster over this ache of rejection. Yet the thought of even touching another, it twists in my gut like a betrayal.
Loneliness has been a familiar roommate for years, slipping into bed beside me, cold and indifferent. It's an old pain, but Jayden, she'd been all cozy warmth and fire.
A sigh escapes me as I reach for my phone. The screen lights up. Jimmy's expecting me to cave, to show up and fill the void with forgettable names and faces. I'm tired of circling back to square one though.
Fingers tapping rapidly, I compose a message.
Me: Jimmy, count me out for the party. Something's come up.
I pause before hitting send, my thumb hovering over the screen. There's a finality in that tap, a closing door on the what-ifs and might-have-beens. With a breath that feels like it's dredging up every shard of hope I've buried, I press down.
Chapter 13
Jayden
Caffeine Beach’s steaming cup of peppermint mocha has been calling to me all day, and I’m finally cradling it between my chilled hands. I sit inside and stare out at the boardwalk. It’s festive, almost magical, but the knot in my stomach tightens as I spot Ryder striding past. He doesn't even glance inside with his focus clearly on some distant point I can't see.
I've seen Ryder avoid hits on the ice with more grace than he's avoiding me now. God, when did everything become so complicated?
Christmas is creeping closer, its merry cheer suffocating when all I can think about is the looming decision. Ryder’s mother’sChristmas ball is an event I'd been excited to attend, arm in arm with him. That was before the distance, before the uncertainty.
Do I reach out? Do I ask him if he still wants me there, pretending for one night that we're something more, something real? My thumb traces the rim of my cup, and the peppermint scent tickles my senses.
A bell jingles signaling someone is entering the coffee shop and pulls me from my thoughts. I immediately look up, hopeful to see Ryder, and the disappointment is a physical ache that settles heavy in my bones.
Ryder. His name is a wish, a hope, a regret. It's time to make a choice, time to step out of the shadows and into the blinding light of confrontation. Am I brave enough to face whatever answer awaits me?
Christmas is supposed to be about joy and connection, yet here I am, nursing a lonely heart and contemplating reaching out to a man who, deep down, I’m frightened of the truths I may discover.
I can't hide forever.
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and then pull out my phone. It's now or never. All the fear aside, I know I want to be by his side, whatever that may intel.
Me:Hey, Ryder. About the Christmas ball...
Send.
With the question out there, I slip the phone back into my pocket and walk out to meander along the Love Beach boardwalk.
Will he need me to go? What if he does? Can I slip into the role of his girlfriend for one night, pretend we're something we're not—or might no longer be?
My other looming thought is when, or if, I meet his family. What do I say to the people who have shaped him, when I'm unsure where I fit into his world or even if I still do?
I hate this uncertainty. It makes me feel small, and I've never been one to shrink into the background—not with my fiery hair and spirit to match.
As much as I dread the possibility of heartache lurking around the corner, I know I'll regret it more if I don't show up, if I don't give this—give us—one last chance.
I’m still going to stay true to the promise that I made him of attending every home game. Good luck charm or not, I’m not willing to test the theory during the middle of his season. So, I have a game to go to tomorrow afternoon.
***
