Page 72 of Stick With Me
“Right.” I’m able to give him at least that much, because no truer words have ever been spoken. We are so much more, and that terrifies me.
TWENTY-NINE
Natalie’s visitcould not have come at a more perfect time.
I need my best friend right now. Things have felt off between Ryan and me since our talk at lunch. He’s been steady and affectionate, but he’s treating me like a feral cat—careful not to spook me, trying to coax me out of my hiding place.
He hasn’t tried to initiate anything physical since, not even a kiss. The closest he’s come are quick brushes of his lips on my forehead and soft, gentle touches. At first, I was grateful, needing a minute to process my feelings. But as the days pass, I start to worry I messed everything up with that disaster of a lunch date.
I get off the train and start walking toward the arena to meet Natalie. She arrived late last night and went straight to a work conference this morning, so we haven’t had a chance to catch up yet.
I show my badge at the entrance, the one Ryan got me for access to the friends and family area, and wait in the main corridor. I’m scrolling on my phone when I feel slim arms wrap around my shoulders, and Natalie’s floral perfume fills my nose.
“There you are. How was your work thing?” I ask, spinning to give her a proper hug.
“Not bad. There was a panty-melting doctor… Well, actually quite a few hot doctors, but one stood out from the rest. He put McDreamy to shame.”
I laugh because it’s so like her to immediately find a man in a new city. She dates enough for the both of us, and it’s fun hearing her stories and living vicariously through her. Though I’m not envious of what she tells me about the dating scene. My one experience was more than enough,thank you very much.
“Where’s the store around here? I want a jersey,” she says, heading in the wrong direction.
I loop my arm through hers and guide her toward the team store. Unlike everyone else here, Natalie stands out in the sea of jerseys—effortlessly chic in a black fitted turtleneck tucked into skin-tight jeans, paired with black heeled boots. Her long red hair is swept up into a high ponytail. She looks more like a fashion model than a hockey fan.
“Whose number are you going to get?” I ask as we enter.
“Hmm… not 19. Don’t want to wear your man’s number. Who’s single on the team?” She flashes a mischievous grin.
“I’ve only met Ryan’s closest friends, and I’m pretty sure they’re all single.”
“What’re their last names?” she asks, pushing hangers around as she flips through the racks.
“Fox, Volkov, and King.”
She mumbles to herself, sounding out her first name with their last names, as if testing how they roll off the tongue.
“I’m going with Volkov. Natalie Volkov has a nice ring to it. You know I have a thing for accents. The Russian it is!”
I laugh, imagining the interactions between Ilya and Natalie. She’s all sunshine and sass, while he’s broody and quiet. She’s definitely picked the hardest nut to crack, not that she knows it yet.
I pull out my phone to text Ryan.
Me:
Guess whose number Natalie picked for her jersey?
Ryan:
I really hope it’s not Fox. He doesn’t need any more ammunition. I’ve warned him off her since he found out she was visiting.
Me:
Have they met? If so, I don’t think she remembers him…
Ryan:
Only briefly when she stayed at my place when she was in town. I stayed with Fox to give her space. They met then.
Me:
