Page 31 of Heart Checked By the Hockey Heartthrob

The tension between them stretches so tight I could pluck it like a guitar string. Ryan’s lips press into a line. “This was a mistake.”

“Yup,” Griff replies. “You got what you came for?”

Ryan glances at me, as if trying to figure out whether I’m flattered or furious. I manage neither. I just wait.

“I’ll go,” Ryan mutters.

“Good plan,” Griff says. “Use the front gate.”

Ryan brushes past, too proud to say goodbye.

He doesn’t push. Just gives me a lazy two-fingered salute and saunters off toward the cider table.

Only then do I exhale.

Only then do I notice that Wes isn’t by the fire anymore.

My gaze sweeps the backyard, past the picnic blankets, the sticky children with chocolate on their faces, the couples dancing barefoot in the grass. No sign of him.

I spot Beck, who catches my look and tilts his head discreetly toward the tree line.

He left.

No goodbye. No storm-out. Just... gone.

A lump rises in my throat.

"Everything okay?" Abby asks, returning from chasing Jake and dropping onto the blanket beside me. She looks at my face. "Oh. That was Ryan, wasn’t it?"

"Yeah."

And suddenly, I’m pulled backward in time. Ryan and I were never meant to last, but there was a time when I thought he might be the one. We met during my junior year when I was studying for my MS in nursing. He was in his third year of med school, with a confident stride and a smile that made half the hospital staff swoon. I was flattered, a little overwhelmed, and completely unprepared.

He sent flowers to the clinic after our first date. Made reservations at places I’d only seen on Instagram. Told me I had "potential," like I was some project he’d been assigned to mentor. At first, I mistook it for affection. I thought he saw something in me.

But over time, it became clear: Ryan didn’t want a partner. He wanted a shadow. Someone who would nod at the right moments and look good at social events. He once told me not to laugh so loudly at a charity gala—it wasn’t ‘polished’ enough.

On the night I ended it, he looked more offended than heartbroken. As if breaking up with him was a clerical error that would be corrected once I came to my senses.

With that thought, I turn to Abby and tell her that seeing him here tonight? It wasn’t nostalgia. It was a reminder. A reminder of how far I’ve come—and how easy it would be to fall back into something that looks safe but feels like an erasure.

She nudges me. "And Wes?"

"Gone."

"Oh."

We sit in silence.

Jake flops dramatically into Abby’s lap, half a marshmallow stuck to his elbow.

"What are the odds," I say, voice thin, "that the moment I feel like maybe,maybe, I’m ready to talk to Wes... Ryan shows up like a plot twist?"

"Well," Abby says, trying to scrape marshmallow off Jake’s jeans, "I’d say that’s how you know it matters. The universe doesn’t test you with things that don’t matter."

"That’s very wise."

"I read it on a Pinterest graphic between diaper changes."

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