Page 264 of Break Away
Her face changed like the words had reached into her and twisted.
“Moving on is nothing to me,” I said. “Nothing. You know why? Because that skill was beaten into me before I was old enough to shave. New house. New school. New bed. New rules. New people pretending they might keep me until they didn’t. I know how to pack a bag. I know how to shut the door. I know how to leave before wanting something could make me weak. That is a skill I perfected.”
“Don’t,” she breathed.
I laughed beneath my breath, empty and cruel. “Now you’re making me prove that skill to you.”
Her hand flew to her chest.
“I’m going to Flint,” I said.
Her eyes widened.
“And if Saturday’s game puts one real offer in front of me, I’m taking whatever gets me the fuck out of Michigan and away from this shit.”
“No.”
“Yes.” I stepped closer again, forcing her to hear every word. “Because if I have to survive walking away from you, then I’m going to do it far enough away that I don’t keep driving past places where I remember what your mouth felt like when you weren’t ashamed of me.”
She cried harder, but I kept going because if I stopped, she’d pull me under with her tears, and I would hate both of us for it.
“I’ll go anywhere,” I said. “Flint. Toledo. Idaho. Some city I’ve never seen with a rink cold enough to numb this out of me. I’ll play for whoever puts paper in front of me. I’ll rebuildbecause that’s what I do. I survive. I leave. I become someone new before the old hurt has time to rot.”
“You can’t just leave me.”
My smile felt like a wound. “Watch me.”
Her mouth trembled. “Ryan, please.”
“You need to decide something, Charm.” My voice dropped until it was almost calm, and that scared me more than yelling. “Not tonight in the study. Not with him standing there. Not with your mother watching your face like she could shame you back into place. Right now. Here. With me.”
She stared at me, shaking.
“You need to decide if me being your man is something you can survive out loud,” I said. “Because I already know I can survive leaving. I’ve survived worse things.”
That gutted her the way I wanted it to. Maybe that made me cruel. Maybe I didn’t care.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why?” I asked. “Because it sounds ugly? It is ugly. You made it ugly when you let me stand there and find out my place in your life depends on who’s watching.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then tell me what I am.”
She stared at me, her lips parted, tears freezing on her cheeks.
I waited.
One second.
Two.
The house door opened behind her, spilling warm light across the snow.
“Charm,” Lance called, calm and cold. “Inside.”
Her whole body locked when the command hit her spine. I saw the little girl in the grown woman as the choice split her open.
