Page 54 of Rookie's Redemption
Such simple things, but somehow it felt more intimate than fancy dinner dates I'd been on in the past.
And then he kissed me goodbye.
Soft and sweet at first, then deeper when I responded, his hands tangling in my hair while I forgot every reason why this was supposed to be complicated.
"Look. She loves it. We'll take the dress," Sophia announces, pulling out a credit card before I can protest. "And the earrings. And whatever shoes you think will complete the look."
"Sophia, no! I can't let you buy this for me."
"You're not letting me do anything. I'm investing in tonight's success." Sophia's smile is soft but determined. "Besides, someone should buy you beautiful things, Mia. You deserve beautiful things."
I stare at my reflection again, at the woman in the mirror who looks confident and elegant and like she might actually belong at a charity gala instead of hiding in an animal shelter for her entire life.
And for the first time in years, maybe ever, I'm actually excited about attending a hockey game.
Not because of the hockey. Because of him. Because of the way he looks at me, because of the careful way he organized this entire evening around something that matters to me.
"Okay," I say. "Let's do this."
"Now you're talking," Lucy grins, raising her champagne flute in a toast. "To beautiful dresses and grand gestures and the kind of love stories that make the whole town jealous."
"To Mia," Natalie adds, "who's about to have the most perfect night of her life."
I lift my own glass, the bubbles making me feel light and reckless.
"To taking chances," I say, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "And to not running away when good things happen."
We clink glasses, and for the first time since Ryder walked back into my life, I'm not thinking about all the ways this could go wrong.
I'm thinking about all the ways it could go right.
Chapter Thirteen
Ryder
The locker room before a big game always sounds like controlled chaos.
Blake's doing his pre-game ritual of retaping his stick for the fifth time while muttering what sounds like a very creative string of profanity designed to psyche himself up. Connor's blasting music through his headphones so loud I can hear the bass line from three lockers away. Jackson's methodically checking every piece of equipment like he's defusing a bomb.
And me? I'm sitting here trying not to throw up from pure adrenaline.
"You good, rookie?" Logan asks, dropping onto the bench beside me. For someone who retired from hockey to open a bookstore café with his girlfriend, he looks surprisingly happy to be away from the madness today.
"Yeah. Just... you know. Big night."
"Big night for the fundraiser, or big night because a certain animal rescuer is watching you play for the first time in eight years?"
I glance at him, surprised. Logan doesn't usually go for the heart-to-heart stuff.
"Both, I guess."
He nods, like that's exactly the answer he expected. "Good. Means you've got your priorities straight."
Through the locker room walls, I can hear the crowd building. The distinctive rumble of eighteen thousand people filling the arena, voices blending into that white noise that makes my blood sing.
But tonight's different.
Tonight, every single person in that arena is here because of something I organized. Something I put together for Mia.
