Chapter Forty-Three
Lindsay
Every addict has their relapse, right?
That was why I was on the couch in my living room, glued to my computer screen, watching the quarterfinals game of the Division I Hockey Championship unfold. I’d told myself not to watch it—that it’d only be painful and make everything that’d happened hurt more, to the forever-scarred point.
I wasn’t wrong, either. Seeing Ryder out there on the ice, hearing the announcers say his name, it all dug at my beat-up heart, and my chest felt so raw that even something as simple as breathing hurt.
But I couldn’t find the strength to click the X at the top of the screen that’d make it stop.
He wants this win so bad. He works so hard, just please let them win…
Confession #23: I can’t bring myself to hate Ryder Maddox.
Last year after everything with Hudson had gone down, I’d chosen the vindictive route, cheering for the hockey team to crash and burn. But this was Ryder, the guy who’d tutored me after I’d pushed him away. The guy who’d taken a hit for me on the paintball field. The guy who’d cooked me dinner and then…
Blips from our shared shower flashed through my mind. Ryder, naked and wet, his large hands roaming over my body as he soaped me up, my skin slipping against his, that intoxicating mix of tenderness and taking charge…
I tried to swallow, but found it impossible. Thanks for that, brain. You obviously hate me.
But it wasn’t done torturing me yet. I relived the moments before the shower, when he’d insisted on finding out more about me and said he wanted to know everything. Then my memories turned back to the shower, because, well, once naked Ryder was in my head, it was hard to not indulge in that image. Being curled up in his arms afterward had made me rethink my entire stance on love, and I couldn’t help recalling how strong I’d felt in that moment.
Of course reality had to come crashing in and ruin it all, like the bitch she was.
You’ll never move on if you keep dwelling on it.
“Move on,” I said aloud, adding a snort-laugh. Might as well add insane to fails to learn her lesson. I wasn’t so great at keeping goals, either. “Like that’s even possible.”
Several of the guys on the bench skated onto the ice, subbing in for other players, and my eyes searched for the number three jersey to see if Ryder was among them.
There he is.
Anger at him for what he’d said at the party, for not calling me after, and for making me fall in love with him in the first place churned through me. Yep, I was definitely a glutton for punishment, because watching this game was akin to torture.
But right on anger’s heels came a confusing surge of affection, the thing that made it impossible to shut off the game. The emotion that made me continue to cheer for BC to win.
The crash of our relationship hurt like hell, but the pain meant I’d put myself out there again. It meant I was living instead of drifting through life. So I decided to give myself a break for at least making an attempt at a relationship with Ryder.
Even if it hadn’t ended the way I’d wanted it to.
Hudson gained possession of the puck, only to be double-teamed and lose it. The guy from the other team who’d recovered it raced toward the goal.
“Shit! Everyone’s too far behind him.”
But like a bullet shot from a gun, Ryder raced after him, gaining inches by the second.
The guy pulled back to shoot.
Clearly he didn’t know anyone was behind him, but I wasn’t sure Ryder would get there in time to block the shot anyway. Don’t get another checking from behind penalty. We can’t afford another four minutes without you.
Ryder dove, like a baseball player sliding home, his stick out in front of him. The other guy swung, but his stick hit Ryder’s, preventing him from contact with the puck.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
The door to Natalie’s bedroom cracked open. “Do you have to be so loud?”
Maybe I hadn’t been the best roommate or tried when I first moved in, but I’d tried since, and it didn’t matter. I was beyond giving a shit what she thought, and a big part of that was because I had real girlfriends now. Ones who’d understand how excited I was over that last save—and I experienced a twinge at not being seated next to them right now, like I should be.
“Yes, Natalie, I do actually have to be this loud. It’s the quarterfinals, and our boys are going to win and get to play in the Frozen Four Tournament, which is kind of a big fucking deal.” I added a huge grin that probably looked more maniacal than happy, although I was feeling both, for the record.
Natalie sighed, shook her head, and then went back into her bedroom, slamming her door to emphasize her annoyance.
Pathetic or not, I leaned forward, touched the screen where Ryder was, and said, “Good job, babe. Just keep them from scoring for three more minutes.”
Needless to say, it was slightly more complicated than that. Shutting out a team as good as the opposing one wasn’t easy, especially since Ryder seemed to be lacking in the help department tonight—must be nerves, but come on! Where were the other defensemen during that play? Our boys also needed to score so we wouldn’t have to deal with overtime.
But between overtime or losing, I chose overtime. If only it was up to me.
I shook my head at myself. Even in my former puck bunny days I’d never gotten so into a game.
I’d never loved anyone as much as I loved Ryder, either. Except maybe my mom, but that was different. This was consuming, I-cared-what-happened-to-him-and-wanted-him-to-have-everything-he-wanted love, even though I was still totally pissed at him. Pissed off enough I wasn’t sure I could forgive him, even if he actually asked me to.
I probably shouldn’t still love someone who’d let me go so easily.
But I did.
And I worried that no matter how much space I put between us, I’d never truly stop.