Page 68 of Rookie Season
“For my favorite grinch. So I can be with you in spirit. – R”
My fingers itch as I tug the bow loose and open the beautiful paper.
Inside is a purple sweater.
“Ugly Christmas sweater!” the guys chorus.
“What’s on the back?” Pete prods, nodding toward the sweater.
I turn the hoodie over, and my breath lodges in my throat.
It’s Ryan’s jersey number.
Hollers go up.
“They haven’t ever done one player before.” Pete turns to his friend. “Have they?”
“Let me check. A guy from my work got tickets to the game.” He sends off a text.
My stomach flips over, my hand stroking the numbers on the hoodie.
“Ahah! That’s not the sweater. It has ‘Merry Bearmas’ on it.” He holds up a photo on the screen. “So, how’d you get a Ryan one?”
Damn it.
It didn’t cost him anything ridiculous, I remind myself. He’s loaded and could order a thousand with the snap of his fingers. But he wants you wearing his name.
It’s easy for a guy to claim a girl as his when he doesn’t have to be hers too.
He’s trying to mess with me. Except… that’s not his style. Every moment he’s ever been with me, he’s been genuine.
“It’s an inside joke, I guess.” I set it under the bar carefully, next to the whisky.
The next time I look up, the rabbits are gone.
Instead, there’s a bear.
Then a few of them.
Subtitles appear at the bottom of the screen, where the narrator explains how bear siblings often look out for each other even after they leave their parents. Sometimes they even adopt new bears as their own.
I’m a lone wolf, but that doesn’t mean I want to be forever.
I could be part of this group.
With Ryan, I feel as though I don’t need to become someone different, or prove myself, or blend in, or hell—even stand out.
The second half starts, and I reluctantly turn my Nat Geo TV back to the Kodiaks right as they do a close-up on Ryan.
I take a deep breath and exhale. I know what I need to do.
“Guys, as soon as the game is over, I’m closing.”
19
RYAN
If you’ve never seen thirty thousand people in matching Christmas sweaters on their feet and hollering, you’ve never lived.
