Page 55 of Stick With Me
Volk skates up to the boards, breaking for water. “What are you fools jabbing about?”
“Logan’s love life, duh,” Fox tells him, waggling his brows.
I roll my eyes. “How do I implement Project Romance…” I pause, cringing at the name. “She’s just going to think it’s all fake?”
“Show her how great the real thing is under the guise of it not meaning anything.” Fox shrugs.
I sigh. “What about the morality of it?”
“Morality,” Volk scoffs.
Fox grins. “Dude, you’re overthinking this. How can being nice to her, and showing her yourrealfeelings, be a bad thing? What’s she gonna say? Oh, Ryan, you’re just such a dreamboat, what an asshole? I don’t think so.”
“Fuck, what it must be like to be in your head, Logan,” Helm adds, unhelpfully. His head peeking over Fox’s shoulder this time.
“Butt out, Rook,” Fox says as I shove his helmet-clad head away, all of us sliding a little further down the bench.
“Dreamboat?” I raise a brow at Fox.
“You know what I mean.” He waves me off. “Just be yourself, show her who you are. That’s all you need to do.”
“But—” I start, but I’m cut off by Coach’s booming voice. “Move it, Volk! Logan, Helm, Fox, you’re up!”
I stand, grabbing my helmet, and hop over the boards. Guess I’m left to figure this out on my own. Not that Fox or Volk would’ve been much help. When it comes to relationships, they’re as useful as a screen door on a submarine.
As practice winds down, I feel Hannah’s presence before I spot her in the stands. She’s bundled up in an oversized sweatshirt under her winter coat, her blonde hair peeking out from a tan beanie with our Saints logo on it. The perfect little fan. The only thing missing is a jersey with my last name across her back.My lips pull up in a grin.
I skate up to the boards, and she meets me at the divide with a hug that’s far too quick.
“I’ll be out in a few,” I tell her before skating off the ice to shower and change.
There’s one thing I want to check off my old list before tossing it: adopting a dog. The way Hannah’s face lit up when I suggested it this morning confirmed that at least this line item should be crossed off. She practically squealed, insisting we head to Paws Chicago as soon as possible, which is why she’s here post-practice.
Hannah’s excitement only grows on our way to the shelter, and by the time we meet Ada at the front desk, it’s at an all-time high. Seeing her so happy makes a warm feeling spread in my chest.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Logan,” Ada says with a playful smile as she leads us to the kennels to meet the dogs. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise.” I dip my head and return a friendly smile.
I’m glad Hannah’s settling into the city and already making friends. Ada seems great, but I’d be lying if I said her role in orchestrating that date doesn’t play in my mind. I just hope I can win her over enough to put her matchmaking skills to better use—preferably by pairing Hannah with me.
Our plan was to check out all the dogs before getting some one-on-one time to see if we connect with the best fits, but I’m not surprised when Hannah wants time with the first dog we see… and then every dog after that. We end up spending most of our time in the meet-and-greet room, where she, unsurprisingly, falls in love with every single dog.
“Ryan, this one is perfect!” This one is small and looks a bit like a bulldog, but she said the same thing about the last ten dogs, too.
“More perfect than the last one?” I ask, failing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, which earns me a scowl.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get two dogs? Maybe three? Having just one might be lonely.” She smiles up at me, and that smile alone has the power to sway my better judgment.
“Won’t he or she have company once you transport dogs up here? I’m sure you’ll want to foster alongside your volunteers, right?”
“You’d let me have fosters in the house?” Her tone holds disbelief.
“He’s a keeper, Hannah,” Ada adds.
My chest swells with pride, knowing I’m earning the approval of her new friend. “It’s your place too, Sunshine.”
She stares at me. The only sounds in the small room are the clicking of the dog’s nails and the rhythmic thumping of its tail against the concrete floor. “You’re the best, you know that?”
