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“So sort of a situationship,” my mother reasons, both of us just looking at her like she has two heads. “You know, like before you are in a relationship, but you are talking, so it’s like a situation.” She looks at us. “Zoey told me about it.”
“Is Zoey in a situationship?” my father asks. “Because I really hope not.”
“Can we focus on our son, please?” my mother scolds, so she cannot tell him Zoey is one thousand percent in this whole situationship. “What have you told Ryleigh?”
“Nothing.” I take a deep breath. “I didn’t want to come on too strong.”
“You have to tell her.” My mother’s voice rises.
“Mom, she’s not answering my phone calls.” I clench my teeth.
“Then go to her.” She shakes her head. “I swear, the bunch of you are so strong and macho and then dumb and stupid, all at the same time.” She looks at my father. “I’m going to have a shirt made that says that.”
“Do you think I should go to her?” I ask them, and even my father looks at me like it’s the stupidest question I’ve ever asked him in my life. “Fuck, I don’t even know if there are flights I can get on.” I tap the steering wheel.
“You live in Nashville.” My mother slaps the counter in front of her. “There is a private airport. Jesus, Stone.”
“I have to go,” I tell them both. “I’ll call you later.” I pull out of the garage. “Maybe tomorrow after I talk to her.”
“Don’t fuck this up,” my father warns quickly, then turns to my mother. “If this doesn’t work out, do you know how awkward it’s going to be when we see her parents?”
“I’m still on the phone!” I shout. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, though.” I hang up the phone, then pull up the number to the private planes I booked last year when I had to fly back home quickly. Three hours later, I’m touching down in Chicago and suddenly wishing I wore a sweater under my track jacket. A black SUV waits for me when I arrive. I had forwarded them the address I was going to so all I have to do is sit in the back seat.
I arrive at her place and thank the driver, and only when I’m standing at her door does it sink in that this could be it. I raise my hand to knock on the door before looking at my phone to see it’s almost five o’clock, so she might not even be home. I raise my hand again to knock, this time twice before I hear, “I’m coming,” from behind the door.
I put my hands on each side of the doorjamb. My head hangs for a second before she opens the door and literally gasps. “Stone,” she says, and I want to grab her around her waist and kiss the ever-loving shit out of her. She’s standing there in yoga pants and my white fucking T-shirt.
“Hi,” I say, my hands dropping from the doorjamb. “I figured if I showed up, it would be harder for you to ignore me.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you,” she denies breathlessly, but I can tell how she avoids looking at me that she was.
“Okay, well, I’m here because we need to talk.” I think about what my father said, and I figure this is it. “Can I come in?”
“Oh.” She shakes her head and moves aside. “Of course you can.” I walk in, and she closes the door behind her. “I’m just a little shocked you’re here.” I don’t move from in front of her door, waiting for her to lead the way to wherever she wants to have this conversation. “How did you get here?”
“Plane.” I smirk at her. “Then a car.”
“I know that, but don’t you have work?” We both walk toward her living room.
“I have to be back at the rink tomorrow night for a game,” I tell her, and I see she was on her couch, her iPad beside a throw cover and her laptop on the coffee table. The vase of pink flowers is right in the middle.
“Do you want something to drink?” The two of us act like we haven’t licked every single part of the other person.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m good.” We just stand here. “I missed you,” I finally blurt out. She looks like she’s going to say something, but I hold up my hand. “Just let me get this out, and then I’ll go,” I say, knowing I’ll probably be leaving here with a broken fucking heart. “This thing between us, I know it started like this cat-and-mouse game.” I smile at her and see she’s wringing her hands in front of her. “The first time I kissed you, I honestly thought it was a dream. Not that I didn’t remember it, but because there was no way one kiss could have set me on fire like that.”
“Well, I did help,” she tries to joke, and I can see she’s just as nervous as I am.
“I want you, Ryleigh.” I just cut to the chase. “I don’t just want a fling with you or a couple of nights. I want to be connected to you. I want us to talk on the phone and laugh and joke. I want to get on your nerves.”
“You already do that,” she teases.
“I don’t want you running away from me. I don’t want you giving me bullshit excuses on why you can’t take two minutes out of your day to talk to me.” I step closer to her as she puts her head down. “I want to date you, Ryleigh. I want you to give us a chance. Being with you in my house, here, wherever it is, I want it to be with you.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she finally says, looking up at me, and I can tell in her eyes, she’s about to break my heart.
CHAPTERTWENTY
ryleigh
