Page 40 of Wilder Puck
I have the sudden, insane urge to lie. To tell this pretty, put-together girl that Ryan is 100% unavailable, so sorry. But that would be crazy. That would be absolute bonkers. Ryan and I aren't together. He's free to date or hook up with whomever he wants. That was the deal.
“Yep,” I say brightly. “Total bachelor. Did you need anything else or just the drinks?”
“Actually.” The girl––Emma, according to her black AmEx––rummages in her purse and pulls out a glossy business card. “Can you give this to him for me? I'd love to get together sometime.”
She winks as she hands it over like we're girlfriends sharing a secret. I take the card with numb fingers, my smile frozen in place.
“Sure,” I chirp. “I'll pass it along.”
Seemingly satisfied, Emma rejoins the conversation with her friends. I stare down at the card with her phone number andInstagram handle. She's exactly Ryan's type–leggy, busty, with a good smile. He'll probably call her the second he takes a look at her profile.
The thought sits in my stomach like lead, heavy and cold. Which is ridiculous. Ryan should date this Emma girl. Or whoever he wants. I don't have a claim on him.
I slide the card into my pocket, vowing to give it to him the next time I see him. We're friends. I want him to be happy. If that means nudging him toward other women, so be it.
I concentrate on work. The easy rhythm of mixing drinks and talking with customers. But Emma and her friends linger at the bar, chatting me up whenever I have a free moment.
“We should totally hang out sometime,” one of them suggests. I think her name is Becca. Or maybe Bella. “There's this club opening downtown next weekend. You should come with us!”
“Oh, yeah,” I glance between their expectant faces. “Yeah, that could be fun.”
They beam at me, already making plans for us, and I fight the urge to squirm. Something about their enthusiasm feels off, calculatingly eager rather than genuine. But I shove the suspicion aside. They're probably just being nice. Not everyone has an agenda.
Still, as my shift winds down, I can't shake the feeling. This isn’t the first time I've been recognized asRyan's friend. Sadly, it’s not the first time I've felt like someone was being friendly to me because of who I know, not who I am. Girls back in college would try to come on our Wednesday runs. One time I even let it happen. See, I can be nice. Ryan swears that I need to loosen up, but there was that one time I reluctantly said yes. Let’s just say that I never wanted a third runner with us ever again.
All I know is that this is unsettling with Emma and her girl clan. I don't want to be known as some hockey player's plus-one.
As I'm leaving, I pull up Ryan's Instagram, scanning until I find the post that Emma mentioned. It was his first game of the season, and we were celebrating his first NHL win. It was a big deal. I smile at the photo because we are smiling ear to ear next to each other. He’s in his hockey gear, and I’m not wearing anything worthy. Just a hoodie and jeans. But I think we look like a couple?
My chest tightens. Emma hadn’t thought so. No way that a gorgeous, famous athlete would have anobodygirlfriend. So, I must be his sister, right? Because right. Right? Right. Ugh!
I bite my lip, my finger hovering over the screen. I should ask Ryan to take this down. I don't want strangers to recognize me in public because of this one photo.
But the pit in my stomach stops me. Because the truth is...I like this picture. I like the way Ryan is smiling, his eyes bright and excited. I like how happy and comfortable I seem by his side. For that one shining moment, I let myself imagine it was real. That I was his and he was mine.
It's stupid. It's self-sabotage. But I can't bring myself to stop this tiny piece of a fantasy. So, I exit out of the app and head to my car, my mind already jumping ahead to tonight.
To Ryan.
I need to text him back.
Oh my god, am I considering ghosting him? What’s wrong with me?
Can I ghost my best friend?
One hour later…
Baddie Addie: So sorry, Ry. I worked a double today and I’m exhausted. Talk later?
I hit send, happy with my response. But then he doesn’t reply, so I’m lying awake in my bed, tossing and turning, checking my phone over and over and over again.
Chapter 14
I wait until it's just Chase and me left on the ice after practice, the rest of the guys have already filed off to the locker room. Chase's always been easy to talk to, level-headed, and sincere in a way that makes me feel like I can open up without judgment. I take a deep breath, preparing myself.
“It's gone south,” I admit out loud.
Chase glances over at me, his eyes full of sympathy and concern. “What happened?”
