Page 6 of The Holiday Makeover

All the little things that made us . . . us.

I missed those things too. What I wouldn’t give to hear Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, or Bing Crosby drifting through a jobsite again. Those were Rory’s picks. I was more of a Bon Jovi, Van Halen, Whitesnake guy.

And I refuse to discuss the women I’ve seen draped all over you. But so help me, if you choose one of them over Rory, I will find a way to haunt you.

I shifted in my seat, heat crawling up my neck. I shouldn’t have felt guilty about dating. Rory and I had broken up two years ago. I was technically allowed to move on.

But it still felt like cheating.

Maybe because my heart was still hers. Because there hadn’t been a single day I hadn’t thought about her. Not one morning I hadn’t woken up wondering what she was doing. Not one night I hadn’t fought the urge to call her just to hear her voice.

And every time I didn’t call, it felt like I was letting her down all over again.

Tate, you’re a good kid. The best. But I think you’re a little lost and still searching for something you need to find inside yourself. You don’t need the roar of the crowd. I know you were raised to love that sound. To seek it.

My eyes drifted up toward the stadium through the curtain of snow. Even now, I could hear the echo of my name being chanted. It was the soundtrack of my childhood. What my dad trained me for. Make the crowd happy. Bring honor and glory to the Ryder name. Win at all costs. Not just on the field, but in life.

And somehow, I always felt like I was coming up short.

You can never get enough of what you don’t need. Remember that. And you and Rory need each other. You’re like water and air for each other’s souls. You always have been. From the moment you walked into our home, Rory came alive in a way I’d never seen before.

You belong together. I know you know that. Remember, I know your secret.

Immediately my gaze landed on the glove compartment. It was where I’d kept my secret for well over two years now. It wasn’t the safest place for it, but I always kept it with me.

Don’t you think it’s time Rory knew it too?

My hand moved before my brain caught up. I flipped open the glove compartment and pulled out the blue Tiffany box. It sat in my palm like a live grenade. I stared at it for a beat before snapping it open.

The four‑carat halo diamond ring sparkled under the cab light, obnoxious and blinding.

I’d known Rory would find it ostentatious, but all I could think was that it had to look perfect. I’d planned to pop the question during one of our live streams. Give the crowd what they wanted. A big moment. A big reaction. Something they would ooh and aah over.

But even then, deep down, I’d known it wasn’t a ring Rory would have chosen. She would’ve been happier with something simple. Honestly, she would have loved it if I had given her a Ring Pop. She would have shown it off like she was proud of it, if I’d ever given her that chance.

I snapped the box shut and tossed it back into the glove compartment, disgusted with myself. Not because I’d bought the ring—but because I’d never given it to her. Because the whole thing proved her right. That our relationship was all for show. That I’d cared more about the audience than the woman standing right in front of me.

I picked up the letter again and read the final lines.

My blessing to marry Rory still stands. Prove Rory wrong, Tate. For her sake and yours.

I believe in you. Believe in yourself.

I’ll be cheering you on from above.

Lots of love,

Coco

PS: Stay at the house. It will be more fun that way.

I smiled and let the letter fall into my lap. Somehow I didn’t think Rory would agree. But what I wouldn’t give to spend the next several weeks with her, working and living side by side.

I looked back out at the snow‑covered stadium. Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten the truth I’d known since high school: The person I always searched for in the crowd wasn’t the coach, or my parents, or the fans chanting my name.

It was Rory.

Even when I was dating other girls, it was her face I looked for. Her smile. Her bright-blue eyes. She somehow was the one who made everything make sense. And without her, everything had felt hollow. Like I’d been walking around missing a vital organ.