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I hear a low whistle when we approach the arched doorway of the ballroom. The event is being held at a small convention center in Boston.
I turn, expecting to see Ryder, but it’s Case. Then I remember Ryder and I aren’t public yet. We couldn’t even attend this charity ball together.
“Jesus. Babe, you look amazing.”
I want to tell him not to call me babe. But Cami and Whitney are standing there, and I don’t want to make things awkward. So I let it slide.
“Thanks. You look good too.” He really does. He’s in a tailored black suit, blond hair styled perfectly and clean-shaven face emphasizing his pretty-boy looks.
He flashes me that familiar smile, but there’s no flutter in my chest anymore. No quickening of my pulse. Any romantic feelings I had for him are completely gone.
I’m all in on Luke Ryder, of all people.
Who would have thought?
“May I escort you inside, my lady?” Case holds out his arm.
I take it and hope he doesn’t sense my reluctance. I also hope Ryder’s not in there already and, if he is, doesn’t see Case walking me in on his arm.
“See you guys in there,” I tell my teammates.
When we enter the crowded ballroom, our conversation is momentarily drowned out by the sound of the eight-piece orchestra band. They’re playing a classical version of a popular pop song.
Case speaks close to my ear so I can hear him. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy. You know what it’s like in December. Final exams, gearing up for the holidays.”
“How’ve you been, other than that?”
“Good.”
He searches my face. “Good,” he echoes.
“Would you prefer I say bad?” I laugh.
“Sort of,” he admits. “I want you to say you’ve been as miserable as I am.” He bites his lip, visibly unhappy. “But it seems like you’re doing really, really well. There’s something different about you.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. You’re kind of…glowing. Are you pregnant?”
I snort out another laugh. Then, as if to prove the point, I grab a glass of champagne from a nearby tray. “I most certainly am not,” I say before taking a sip.
He chuckles too, but he appears relieved. It’s almost as if he actually believed the reason I could be glowing is that I was knocked up.
“I’m just happy,” I add. “Our season has been unbelievable. We’re a lock to win our conference.”
Case sighs. “I wish I could say the same.”
Those early losses didn’t do them any favors, and they faced some tough opponents the past couple of weeks. They’re currently behind UConn in the conference. UConn’s been playing some damn good hockey and isn’t keen on relinquishing that lead.
“You’ll get a bid,” I assure him. The teams that don’t make it by winning their conference can get a bid from the selection committee, which picks ten teams to advance to the postseason. I can’t see how Briar doesn’t make it.
My peripheral vision catches a flash of movement. I turn my head just as Ryder, Shane, and Beckett walk past us, wearing suits and rocking them. They nod in greeting before carrying on toward the open bar.
“Do you have that magazine picture of you and Ryder framed in your room?” I tease.
That infamous shot of Ryder with his arms thrust in the air and Case throwing himself at him in an astounded hug actually made it into an edition of Sports Illustrated. Printed alongside a three-page spread about college hockey.
“My dad does.” Case snorts. “He bought a ton of copies and handed them out to everyone in town.”
“If it makes you feel better, my dad bought a copy too.”
Case’s expression brightens. “It does, actually. I miss him.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Breakups are tough. And I feel bad that he’s no longer part of our family. He fit in well. My parents loved him. Wyatt thought he was great. But we’re not together anymore, and eventually Ryder will be the one attending my family events. At least, I hope.
But that means we need to tell Case about us, and I’m still dragging my feet about it. I’m not leading him on. I made it clear our relationship is over. I don’t text him. I don’t flirt. If anything, Case is leading himself on because he refuses to admit it’s done.
Still, I know I could make it easier, nudge him closer to the road of acceptance by telling him I’m with someone else. But the idea of hurting him is so upsetting.
My phone buzzes in my sequined silver clutch. I pull it out, taking a sip of champagne as I read the text.
RYDER:
I want to fuck you so bad right now. That dress is fire.
I cough loudly.
Case looks concerned. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” I cough again. “Just went down the wrong tube.”
I know Ryder’s watching, so I make an exaggerated show of sticking my phone back in my purse. I refuse to allow any exhibitionist shenanigans tonight, no matter how badly I enjoy them. This event isn’t the place for it. Not with Case here.
