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Chapter Forty-Eight

Ryan

I wore her out.

Or she wore herself out by working the hell out of me. I’m unsure, but Sofia is passed out in the bed.

Sitting in the big fluffy chair in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, I gaze out at the Nashville skyline. I’m naked as the day I was born, but in the pitch black, I don’t care.

I just need to think.

For some reason, I’m taken back to the first day I picked up a hockey stick. I was maybe three, and Shea was so excited. He bought me all my gear, and he taught me everything. I was so hyper and ready to go. I was going to be a hockey player like Unky Shea. Fast-forward ten years, and I was in my first tournament. We got our asses handed to us, but we were a brotherhood. To this day, I’m still friends with those guys. It’s one of my favorite things about hockey, the brotherhood. None of those guys made it to the NHL. They all lost interest, but I didn’t. I was determined. I was going to make it, make my uncle proud—and my dad.

I’m proud of you no matter what, Ryan. You’re my boy. Do what makes you happy.

I close my eyes, hearing my dad in my head on the day he died. He held my hand, he looked me in my eye, and he uttered those words to me. It shattered me, but his words have been my constant companion. For the last three years, I’ve been pushing to make him proud. Or maybe I was killing myself to make myself proud. If I’m honest with myself, I don’t love being coached. It puts too much pressure on me, and I’m entirely too hard on myself.

I should take the training job. But will I be happy watching other guys live their dreams? I can’t help but think that Shea would be disappointed in me. That Amelia would think I’d failed. I’m supposed to be the example for her and my cousins. If I take it, I’m giving up on my dream.

Damn it, why is this so hard?

And why is the pressure so fucking stifling?

I hear movement beside me, and then I see her sashaying my way.

My girl.

“Baby?”

She stumbles toward me, pushing her hair off her shoulders. “Hey, what are you doing?” she asks, crawling into my lap and cuddling closer into my chest, perfectly naked. As she tucks her hands under my jaw, she yawns loudly. “Can’t sleep?”

I shake my head. “No, too much to think about.”

“Oh,” she says softly, and silence stretches between us.

With emotion suffocating me, I ask, “Remember when I asked you if you’d love me even if I was a failure?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, tipping her head back, her lips grazing along my jaw. “I told you you’d never be a failure, though.”

“You did,” I agree, my hand moving up and down her back. “I’m sitting here, and I’m thinking about my cousins and Amelia. How if I don’t go for the Ontario gig, that I would be giving up on my dream and letting them down.”

She slowly moves her head up and down. “I disagree, but go on…”

“No, tell me why you disagree.”

“Because they all love you. Anyone who loves you would never see you as giving up on your dreams or being a failure. Ryan, you’d be doing what makes you happy. They’d admire that and want to do the same.”

I chew on her words for a moment, going over and over them in my head. My family loves me, and they’ve always said no matter what I do, they would be proud of me. I almost want to call Shea and make sure he wouldn’t be disappointed if I didn’t go to Ontario, but I don’t want that pressure. But then again, would I care? When he told me earlier that he wanted me not to take the job with the Assassins, I was with Elli. I wanted to take it. Even now, I think I want it. I just don’t want to let anyone down.

I inhale deeply as I move my lips along her hair. “Sofia.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to go to Ontario.”

I feel her still in my arms. “Okay…”

“I want to take the job with the Assassins, and this is why,” I say as she sits up, looking down at me. The moonlight is spilling over her skin and her face. “When I was offered the job, I was shocked and so fucking proud of myself. I was torn because I wanted to be in the NHL, but I was stoked. I had done something not many people can do, you know?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“But when Mick told me about the Ontario gig, I wasn’t excited. Not even a little bit. If this is my dream, I should be ecstatic for it.”

“I agree.”

“And I know you aren’t going to like this, but one of the main reasons I wasn’t even the least bit excited was because I knew I wouldn’t truly be with you for a really long time, and I’m not okay with that—”

“Ryan—”

“No, Sof, let me get this out.”

Her eyes bore into mine, and I reach out, taking her sweet face in my hands. “The NHL isn’t my dream anymore. I think the NHL stopped being my dream when I realized I couldn’t just land on my aunt’s team right off the bat. It stopped being my dream when I came to terms with the fact that I’m not my uncle and I’m never going to be. Just like my dream, I’ve changed. And, Sofia, it’s all because of you.”

“Ryan,” she says breathlessly, and my heart stops dead in my chest.

“I know you don’t want to hear that. I know you want me to do what I want, what I love, or what makes me happy. But what makes me happy is being here with my family. Being a part of the Assassins, the team that, for the last four years, I thought I couldn’t be a part of. But above all, being with you is what makes my day worth a damn. I want to be with you.”

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