Page 122 of The Right Move

“I’m so glad I got to tell you in person.” She pops her shoulders. “That was fun. Have a great trip.”

I heave out a disbelieving laugh. “I will. Thank you!”

In a daze, I make it to the airplane to find our two pilots performing their pre-flight checks. I give them a silent wave, entirely stuck in my head about what just happened.

This can change my entire situation. I don’t have to pinch pennies. I could offer Ryan some rent money.

I could move out.

The somber realization stops me in my tracks.

I hate the idea of leaving that apartment. I knew there would come a time when I would have to move out and Ryan was adamant about me saving for my own place, ever since our first morning together. But the thought of waking up and not having breakfast with him, not finding a coffee cooling down for me in the fridge, and not tossing out the remnants of another bouquet he killed by trying his hardest to make it thrive feels like the worst-case scenario. Not being suffocated with his presence every second I’m at home seems…lonely.

And not in the way I’ve felt loneliness before by simply not having others around, but by being without the one person who makes me feel valued and worthy of the space I’m occupying. That my voice is worth hearing.

Should I tell him about the news? Will he want his apartment back if I do?

Sticking my purse in an overhead bin, I get to work organizing the plane for our trip. Sometime later, the other two girls join and the team staff begins to arrive. I find my way to the front of the plane, my station to work, welcoming the passengers on board.

“Welcome!” I say with a small wave as each person boards the airplane.

The players arrive last, filtering on one by one.

Excitedly, I see Rio’s dark curls bounce with him as he climbs the stairs, carrying his signature boombox at his side. “Hey, Ind,” he says much more solemnly than his typically goofy tone. “Have you talked to him?”

“Talked to who?”

“Ryan.”

Huh? How the hell does Rio know I need to talk to him? He has no idea what happened on the couch the other night.

“How’s he doing?”

“Good, I guess?”

Zanders comes barreling up the stairs behind him as Rio hangs in the front galley with me.

“Ind, I’ve been calling you,” he breathes heavily, as if he sprinted from his car to the airplane.

“My phone is in my purse.” I grab it out, finding countless calls and texts from both Stevie and Zanders. “What’s wrong?”

In that moment, Rio realizes how lost I am about our conversation. He looks to Zanders to fill me in.

“It’s Ryan. He got hurt in his game.”

Time stills as I repeat his words over and over again until they sink in.

“How hurt?”

“He’s at the hospital now. Stevie’s with him. He’s getting an MRI on his knee. They’re worried he tore his ACL.”

No. No, that's impossible. Ryan is steady. Constant. Unbreakable.

I don’t know enough about sports injuries to understand the severity of what Zanders is trying to tell me, but with his hazel eyes pleading unspoken words, it’s clear that this moment is critical enough that I shouldn’t be on this airplane.

“I should go, right?”

He nods. “Yeah. You should go.”

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