Page 231 of Break Away
Rider leaned back. “Fury doesn’t have a game that weekend.”
“Exactly.” Ryan’s gaze moved around the table, landing on Cade and Easton a little longer than the rest. “I know everybody’s got family stuff Thursday, and I’m not trying to hijack Thanksgiving. But Friday through Sunday, if you’re free, come to Flint. Make it a mini trip. The cabins are close to the arena, and there’s a lake, a fire pit, decent food, and enough distance from campus that maybe none of us do anything criminal for forty-eight hours.”
Rider’s mouth curved. “Ambitious.”
Ryan nodded sheepishly. “There are a few NHL scouts coming.” He shrugged again. “Who knows, though.”
Bliss straightened under Cade’s arm. “Wait. The Flint Frost versus Minnesota Ice game? Ryan, that is huge.”
Ryan shrugged, but the movement didn’t land casual. “It’s a game.”
Cade’s eyes sharpened. “Don’t do that.”
Ryan looked at him as Cade leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table. “Don’t undersell it.”
The table got quieter, and Ryan’s jaw shifted. For the first time since I had known him, the swagger around him thinned enough to show the pressure underneath. He wasn’t Fury anymore, not technically. He had graduated and moved into semi-pro hockey but kept showing up for us like loyalty was the only language he trusted. Sitting there across from Charm with black coffee in front of him and tattoos disappearing beneath hissleeves, he looked like a man standing at the edge of something too big to admit he wanted.
Cade didn’t let him hide from it.
“Scouts will be there,” Cade said.
Ryan’s eyes flicked away. “Some.”
Easton huffed. “Some? Frost staff has been talking about this for two weeks. NHL scouts, AHL guys, agents, media, the whole circus. That game matters.”
Briggs slammed a hand on the table hard enough to rattle the silverware. “This is the part where we all acknowledge Ryan Decker is being annoyingly humble about possibly changing the entire trajectory of his life.”
Ryan pointed at him. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I was born weird, and you knew that before inviting me to a cabin.”
Rider looked at Ryan, his expression calm but solid. “They’ll be watching you.”
Ryan’s throat moved once. “They’ll be watching everyone.”
“No,” Easton said, his voice cutting clean through the dodge. “They’ll be watching you.”
Ryan held his stare for a second too long, then looked down at his coffee. Charm had gone very still beside Bliss and me. That was what caught me, not the game or the scouts. Not the way every guy at the table seemed to lean forward around Ryan like they could put their shoulders under the weight with him. Charm was looking at him like someone had just handed her a glimpse of a future she already knew she wasn’t allowed to want, and somehow, her reaction was affecting his.
Her fingers tightened around her mug. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes moved over him with the softest kind of pride, the kind that didn’t belong to a girl who thought a man was only fun.
Ryan didn’t see it, or maybe he did and didn’t know what to do with it.
My chest went tight.
Oh, Cee.
Bliss noticed me noticing, because Bliss had never met an emotional land mine she didn’t locate with terrifying accuracy. Her eyes flicked from me to Charm, then to Ryan, then back again.
“Bathroom in five,” she mouthed.
I gave the smallest nod.
Briggs, blessedly unaware or pretending to be, threw both hands out. “I am in. Absolutely in. Cabin weekend, rivalry game, NHL scouts, possible emotional support goalie presence. I will bring snacks, inappropriate encouragement, and one speech that makes Ryan cry.”
Ryan stared at him. “I will push you into the snow.”
“Not the lake,” Rider said dryly. “We’re maintaining optimism.”
