Page 33 of No Rhyme or Roughing
I let the camera pan over to the Guardians’ bench, closing in on my brother, Teddy, and the way his jaw hung open. Behind him, two of the coaches yelled orders at Ryder, probably telling him to stop right fucking now.
Frankie crossed her arms, her lips twitching as if she was trying very hard not to laugh.
In the stands to my right, a giant golden retriever shook with ill-contained laughter.
“Who is this guy?” Sam glanced at her phone as it dinged. Sullivan’s name flashed across the screen. She typed a quick response and slipped it back into her pocket. “The Ryder I knew would never.”
I wanted to tell her she’d lost the right to know anything about Ryder when she fell for his brother, his twin. But I didn’t. Instead, I shrugged. “Pretty spectacular, right?”
Ryder’s sweat-soaked hair clung to his forehead and reddened cheeks. He looked mortified, yet he kept going.
I’d never wanted him more.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I tried to keep filming, refusing to let my wayward thoughts distract me. We were here to save the team.
The girl beside me didn’t know how much Ryder was sacrificing. His teammates would judge him for this, and he probably wouldn’t even tell them why.
“Fuck,” I breathed. It really was just me and him in this together.
My stomach clenched as his eyes found me. He skated closer, and I zoomed in as far as I could. He blew sweat droplets from his lips, barely blinking, never looking away.
It all happened at once. The corners of his lips tipped up, and I knew the smile was just for me. The realization struck that he wouldn’t regret this or hold it against me.
Then came the loud, glass-rattling impact as he collided with the end boards and crumpled to the ice while the song ended.
I stopped recording and held my breath until he started climbing to his feet, an adorably embarrassed sheen on his cheeks.
The ref who’d been chasing him stopped to check on him and delivered a handful of stern words, pointing toward the bench.
Ryder, stoic and serious captain that he was, shrugged as if he hadn’t just pranced across the ice for two minutes and thirty-two seconds. As if every eye in the arena wasn’t locked on him. He glanced at me once more before turning and skating to his bench.
Not a single teammate patted him on the back or even seemed to speak to him. Coach Grimshaw shouted something, and then the game restarted.
I made it to my seat and nearly fell into it.
Sam looked sideways at me. “That was something.”
“Sure was.”
“I’ve known Ryder a long time, and that isn’t something he’d do.”
Rolling my eyes, I sighed. I didn’t know this girl, andI’d never been fond of talking to strangers—or good at it—but Ryder deserved better. Thoughts of him tangled my words. “Sam, I don’t know you, so I don’t really want to be a bitch, but here it goes. You gave up the right to know anything about Ryder when you started dating Sullivan.”
Who does that? Date one twin for ten years, then fall for the other. An irrational anger took root in me.
She was quiet for a moment. “You’re not wrong.”
“No shit.” I wasn’t normally abrasive. I preferred saying what people wanted to hear, making them feel good about themselves so they’d feel good about me. It was an anxiety coping mechanism instilled by years of never being the right kind of daughter. But sometimes, you had to let that bitch flag fly. “Ryder is a good guy.”
“I know that.”
“And he’s trying to do something good here. He doesn’t need you judging him.”
“I know that too.” Now, it was her turn to sigh. “This is how he thinks he’s going to save the team?”
“You—how?”
“Mr. Mac brought Sullivan here too. He’s like a father to both of them. Of course Sullie knows about the problem. But how is dancing going to fix any of this?”
