Page 149 of Almost Ours
And somehow… what I needed too.
It hadn’t always felt this way. Things had been a little off between us the past month after everything. I’d felt myself pulling back, putting up the walls I’d spent months learning how to tear down with him. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know how to feel safe without first bracing for impact.
But Ryan never pushed.
He just… stayed.
He showed up. For me. For Connor. Over and over again, in small ways that mattered more than I ever expected. And slowly, quietly, he was proving that he wasn’t going anywhere. That maybe this wasn’t just something I had to survive. Maybe it was something I could lean into.
Maybe I wasn’t doing it all alone anymore.
After the game, the team celebrated their win with cheers and high-fives before everyone scattered. Shane, Liam, and Nina met up with us back at my place for dinner. These dinners had become an almost weekly tradition between the six of us. I’m still unsure how Nina hasn’t managed to kill Shane yet.
The evening April air was crisp but not too cold–perfect for a fire. We’d set up in my backyard, chairs clustered around the crackling flames as the sun dipped below the horizon. Connor and Liam had their own little setup, roasting marshmallows and competing to see who could toast the perfect golden brown.
Ryan sat next to me, his arm draped casually around my shoulders, while Shane and Nina bickered good-naturedly about how many hot dogs Shane had already eaten.
“You’re going to need a second workout just to burn those off,” Nina teased, swatting at his hand as he reached for another bun.
“I’m carbo-loading,” Shane replied with a grin. “Besides, they’re small.”
“They’re not small, you just have a hollow leg,” she shot back, rolling her eyes.
Liam and Connor burst out laughing, their marshmallows forgotten for a moment.
The conversation flowed effortlessly, laughter and banter weaving through the group like a warm blanket. I leaned into Ryan, breathing in the scent of smoke and pine and him. His fingers brushed against my shoulder absently, the touch grounding and comforting.
It was one of those evenings where everything felt right, like the world had finally aligned in our favour. I allowed myself to believe that this happiness might actually last.
I headed inside to grab more marshmallows for the kids. The laughter and crackling of the fire drifted in through the open window, grounding me in the warmth of the night. As I reached the counter to grab the bag, I noticed my phone lighting up on the kitchen table.
A text from an unknown number.
Curious, I swiped it open, expecting it to be a wrong number or some spam. Instead, my stomach dropped.
The message contained links to several articles, accompanied by a single line.
Unknown: You might want to know the truth about Ryan.
I hesitated for a moment, staring at the screen. My heart started to race, a drumbeat of anxiety pounding in my chest. With trembling fingers, I clicked the first link.
The headline read:
Ryan Barzal: The NHL’s Bad Boy
Bad boy? My heart sank further as I skimmed the article from three years ago. It was a profile detailing Ryan’s career–how he was known for his aggression on the ice, how he thrived on playing a physical game, picking fights, even toeing the line of what was considered acceptable with dirty hits that caused injury.
There were paragraphs describing fights he’d been in, hits that had been called dirty by analysts and commentators. It painted a picture of someone who played not just hard but recklessly–someone who seemed to care more about taking out opponents than winning games.
I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat. This didn’t sound like the Ryan I knew.
I clicked the next link.
The Hit That Ended Kyle Everett’s Career
My breath caught as I read. Kyle Everett. I’d heard Ryan and Shane both mention the name, there were pictures of them all together at Ryan’s house. He’d never gone into detail, and I hadn’t pressed.
The article described a game that had ended in tragedy. Ryan had delivered a hit on Kyle, one deemed excessively dangerous. Works like “reckless,” “career-ending,”and“life altering,”jumped out at me. My stomach churned as I read about how Kyle had been sent flying into the boards, how he’d crumpled to the ice, unmoving.
