Page 125 of Power Play

“I like this.”

His thumb moved over my knuckles. “I know.”

“I mean that you always reach for me.”

His expression softened as he backed out. “My mother used to say if somebody matters, they shouldn’t have to guess.”

The answer settled into me slowly as I looked down at our hands.

Ryan didn’t know how often I guessed. He didn’t know how many compliments I questioned, how many touches I analyzed after they ended, or how quickly my mind could transform his restraint into rejection despite every piece of evidence he gave me.

He simply kept reaching.

The drive out of Kimball Falls took us past the edge of campus and into stretches of farmland turning gold beneath the sinking sun. Ryan had changed the playlist too. I recognized songs I had played in his truck mixed between his usual choices, enough that I eventually looked at the screen.

“Is this my playlist?”

“Some of it.”

“You hate this song.”

“I hate that guy’s voice.”

“You said he sounds like someone singing through a sinus infection.”

“He does.”

I laughed. “Then why is it on?”

Ryan glanced over. “You like it.”

That shouldn’t have felt romantic, but it did.

“You willingly put bad music in your truck for me?”

“Don’t tell anybody. I have a reputation.”

“I’m beginning to think your reputation is fraudulent.”

“You’ve seen me play hockey.”

“That doesn’t prove anything about your character.”

“It proves I’m willing to hit people professionally.”

“You’re a left wing. Half your violence is recreational.”

Ryan laughed and lifted our joined hands to his mouth. His lips touched my knuckles before he lowered them again without taking his eyes from the road.

The gesture was so casual that my chest squeezed harder than it would have if he had made a production out of it.

“You’re really leaving tomorrow.”

The question had been sitting between my teeth since we left.

Ryan squeezed my fingers. “Yeah.”

“I know it’s only six days.”