Page 109 of Stick With Me
I pull up my Kickstarter and freeze. The number on my screen is much too large; it doubles my initial goal, leaving me momentarily stunned.
Ryan gently closes my mouth, which had apparently fallen open. “What is it?”
I hand him my phone, still open on the donation details.
His brows pull together. “Jace?”
I nod. “I don’t even know what to think. Maybe he’s serious about turning over a new leaf? If you’re going to be playing on the same team, it’s a good start, right?”
Ryan sighs. “Yeah, hopefully.”
The uncertainty of where he’ll play next season still hangs over us, unspoken but ever-present.
“Let’s not think about that now,” he says, squeezing my hands. “It’s your big day. Let’s celebrate.”
We head downstairs, and it’s not long before the ding of the elevator signals the first group of guests arriving. I glance over my shoulder, recognizing the contacts I made at the Paws Chicago fundraiser. When my gaze returns to Ryan, a proud smile stretches across his handsome face. “Go do your thing.”
The party passes in a blur of connections made, words of support exchanged, and a steady stream of donation notifications pinging on my phone. There’s even talk of potential adopters for two of our pups. A raging success on all fronts. But by the time the last guest leaves and we start cleaning up, exhaustion weighs heavy on me.
Ryan and I say goodbye to his teammates, and then it’s just us and Ada.
“Ada, we’ve got the cleanup covered. You’ve done more than enough. Thank you for everything,” I say, pulling her into a hug.
“We’ve got it,” Ryan calls across the space, pushing a trash bin and filling it with abandoned plates and half-empty drinks.
Ada relents with a small smile. “All right. I’m proud of you. You kicked ass today. Call me tomorrow.”
I walk her to the elevator, and then it’s just Ryan and me.
I let out a yelp of surprise as his strong arm wraps around my waist. He buries his face in my hair, pressing a kiss to my ear, then my neck, trailing down to my shoulder. “You did it,” he whispers against my skin.
Careful of the arm still in a sling, I turn in his embrace and loop my arms around his neck. “I did, didn’t I?”
We hold each other’s gaze for a few silent beats. “I’m proud of you,” he murmurs.
Though I’ve lost count of how many people said those exact words today, they mean so much more coming from him.
“Not just for tonight, which was incredible, but for everything you’ve accomplished these past few months.” The awe in his voice makes a tight knot form in my throat.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” I’ve never meant anything more. I moved here believing I needed independence, that relying on someone else would make me weak. That I’d lose myself in someone else again. But I was wrong.
“Yeah, you could’ve, baby.” He brushes his lips over mine. I realize he’s right about that too. I could have done it alone, but I don’t want tohaveto. Not with Ryan by my side.
When you’re with the right person, you don’t have to choose between freedom and security.
You have wings to flyanda safe place to land.
And for me, that’s Ryan.
FORTY-TWO
Tonight isthe last game of the regular season. Ryan’s at the arena, supporting the team from the box seats, while I chose to cheer cozied up on the couch. By the third period, it’s too painful to watch us lose so epically, so I switch the TV off.
Might as well do something productive, like change the sheets. The unfolded pile of laundry is mocking me from the other side of the couch, probably still warm from when I pulled it out of the dryer during intermission. Is it just me, or is changing linens the most annoying household task?
As I’m struggling with the duvet cover—my least favorite part—the movement causes the contents of my nightstand to spill onto the floor. I kneel to gather everything, annoyed with myself, when I notice the last paper plane Ryan left me is crunched beneath a water bottle. I curse under my breath for not putting it with the others for safekeeping.
He left this one before the week-long road series that ended with his injury. Carefully, I try to reshape it, unfolding a few of the creases. That’s when I catch a glimpse of Ryan’s messy handwriting. I unfold it completely and am speechless as I take in the words.
