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He released a loud breath.
“Finally get it?” Jo asked.
“I got to go, Jo.” He ended the call and stared at the wall. If Bridget was pregnant, she hadn’t told him. But apparently, she’d told Jo. He wanted to be the person she came to with everything, and he’d been trying to get her to see that, but she’d still gone to his sister before she’d come to him.
Ben stuck his head in the door. “Get ready. Kontos says you’re in.”
Ten minutes ago, that would have been all Ryan wanted to hear. Now, all he could think about as he headed back to his locker was Bridget.
That conversation with her hadn’t been his best, but she hadn’t tried to communicate that what she’d had to say was important. She’d given up, and she was probably sitting at home, assuming he didn’t care. He’d spent months trying to show her how much she meant to him, and yet she didn’t trust him enough to open up when something huge like this came up. Where did that leave them?
He slammed his fist into the wood separating his locker from Declan’s.
“Daily, what the fuck?” Declan spun in his folding chair and yanked out his ear bud. “Everyone and their mother is worried about your arm, and you’re punching shit minutes before the game?”
Ryan shook his hand as pain shot up his elbow, but he didn’t turn.
Declan dropped a hand to Ryan’s shoulder and forced him around. “What. The. Fuck?”
“Lauren was jealous from the beginning, and it never got any better, just worse, right?”
Declan huffed. “Lauren is bat shit crazy. I knew it and let myself get tangled in that anyway because I was miserable being stuck here in New York, and she was a distraction. Then her threats about keeping Chris from me if I left tied me to her for even longer.”
Daily frowned. Declan’s ex had been a witch about custody. He was just now getting consistent time with his son, and it had been almost a year since they’d broken up.
“You and Bridget are good people. If you’re having issues, you two can work that shit out. Even I could see how into each other you were last month.”
Ryan lifted his hand and ran it along his left pec. The ridges under his shirt were still scabbed, but they were there. Because Bridget was important. But she had to trust their relationship as much as he did for anything to ever work.
15
When the microwave beeped,she pulled out the boiling water and poured it over the cup of noodles. She’d lived on these when she was pregnant with Aidan, and the almost chicken soup had become a comfort food since.
A four-hour nap had cleared her head a bit, but now it was nine o’clock, and she was wide awake. Aidan’s summer lacrosse training started this week in California, and with him not running around talking nonsense, the house was quiet. She had gotten used to it last year with Aidan at school, but now that he’d been home for a few months, it was jarring.
A touch of a smile lifted the corner of her mouth. Soon the house wouldn’t be quiet. She could see a toddler running around in the kitchen while she made dinner. But the idea of working full time and raising another child alone quickly erased that smile. She didn’t want to do it on her own this time.
Ryan wouldn’t be like Eddie. Even when he was busy, Ryan would be involved, and he’d be there for his child as often as he could be. She just didn’t know what that would look like from half a country apart, but they could try.
Thoughts of Ryan had her turning to the television. That morning, she had set the DVR to record his game, so she settled onto the sofa with her soup to see how it had gone. Normally, she fast forwarded to the middle of the first inning, but the first pitch had her stopping short. Bridget’s heart skipped.
A tall, lanky blond stood on the mound, ball in hand.
Where was Ryan?
She rewound the game and listened as the announcers discussed the elbow injury that caused coaches to pull him from the game.
He had sounded stressed earlier. His first game back after the All-Star break hadn’t gone well, and Bridget had assumed he was concerned about pitching poorly again. She didn’t realize his arm was worse. And she hadn’t even bothered to ask about it.
She closed her eyes, flopping back on the sofa. His reaction to her call probably had nothing to do with her asking him for something and everything to do with what he was going through. She straightened and picked up her phone and called him, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Hey, Ry, I took a nap and just saw that you’re not playing. I’m sorry I didn’t ask about your elbow earlier. It’s no excuse for not checking on how you’re feeling, but I have some things I need to tell you, and I was stressed too. But it’s not a voicemail thing, so I’ll come to you. I’ll call you tomorrow with flight info. We’ll figure out your arm and my stuff. I know we’ve got this if we do it together. Just call me when you can.”
She sat back, hoping he would call back, but he didn’t.
16
He smiledas he listened to Bridget’s voicemail. It was everything Ryan needed to hear. She was allowed to be stressed, and she was allowed to mess up, but she wanted to be in it with him. And that meant everything.
