Page 132 of How to Lose at Love

That does the trick and breaks the ice, Ryann giving me a gentle shove.

I grab the hand making contact with my body and pull, bringing her in for a hug.

“Let me hug you for a second.”

This warm-and-fuzzy shit is so unlike me, but I can’t stop myself from wanting that connection with her; it’s been a shitty few days thinking about her and wondering how she’s doing, not having the time to check in on her personally.

My coach and special teams coaches had a meeting with me. My agent called, giving me a metaphorical slap me on the back for following his directions and giving my reputation a much-needed makeover. He’s coming to town to see me within the next week or two and wants to meet Ryann. Told me he’d just seen my brother, Duke, who wants Eli to check in on me.

Ryann is in my arms.

“Since when are you a hugger?” her muffled voice asks, pressed into my chest.

“Since now.”

Since right this second.

Was kind of worried about the little shit.

Worried about her? Why?

She’s a big girl, can take care of herself, but I care about her—we’ve spent a decent amount of time together lately, and I can trust her.

I trust her a lot.

Can’t say that about everyone I hang out with, including the guys on my team. Some of them have my back, but a few of the others would stab me in it.

Ryann isn’t a user.

She’s my friend.

“Are you patting me on the back?”

“Am I?” I didn’t realize I was doing that.

She pulls away. “Yes.”

Walks to the other side of the room and sits on one end of the couch.

I follow, sitting myself in the middle.

Ryann doesn’t say anything, biting down on her bottom lip. She looks worried and distracted.

“So.”

I nod. “We have shit to discuss, and we might as well dive in, eh?”

“First tell me what’s in the backpack.”

What’s in my backpack? That’s what she wants to talk about first?

“Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“You know, clean clothes and whatever.”

Her brows go up. “Were you heading to the gym or something?”