I stand there in Rachel’s arms, heart pounding. Her men are all on the hunt for Ryan. Other Rays in the room have taken notice of us.
Poppy is the first to reach us, placing a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “What just happened? Who was that?”
Novy and Morrow appear suddenly behind her, framing her like two angry gargoyles, their eyes both locked on the door Troy just exited through.
“That was my ex-husband,” I reply.
“Oh, heavens. Are you okay?”
“No. I need to find Ryan.” I lift my gaze to her, glancing between her and her men. “Have you seen him?”
Poppy shakes her head, but Morrow nods.
“Oh god, when?” I say, taking his hand.
“I saw that guy talking to him over on the other side of the room,” he replies. “He handed him something and walked away. I didn’t really pay much attention though. That’s all I saw.”
“Where did Ryan go?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” he replies.
Just then, Nancy hurries forward. “Tess, I couldn’t find Ryan. I swear, I looked everywhere. His car is still here, but the man himself has vanished into thin air.”
My heart sinks, but I find her a smile. “It’s okay, Nance. Don’t worry, I’ll find him.”
“What else do you need me to do?” she says, dutifully waiting for instruction.
I glance around the room. The people closest to us are still casting wary looks, but in the back of the room, I hear laughing and mingling. Not everyone was pulled under by the Troy Tornado. The alert has clearly gone out across the Rays though. All the players are moving closer, their conversations hushed, their expressions worried.
I turn to Nancy, squeezing her hand. “You and Cheryl hold down the fort, okay? Tell Joey he’s giving the speech in fifteen minutes. Keep it short. Nothing more than thanking the donors and guests and wishing everyone a safe drive home.”
She nods. “But…what do you need?”
“I need to find Ryan,” I say again.
“Go,” says Rachel. “He’s here somewhere. He wouldn’t leave without you.”
“Wouldn’t he?” I say, heart in my throat.
“He loves you, Tess,” Rachel replies. “Go find him. I’ll put all the Rays on alert.”
With a nod, I’m off. I slip around the edge of the room, hurrying towards the door that leads into the cloak room where we all stashed our coats and bags. Digging to the bottom of the supply box, I tug out my little clutch and open it, plucking out my phone.
My heart races as I flick my thumb across the lock screen, eager to see if he left me a voice memo. The home screen flashes bright, but there are no messages from Ryan. No texts. No voice memos. No funny GIFs.
I tap his number and put the phone to my ear, praying that the dial tone will connect. It rings once. Twice. Three times. Then his voicemail picks up.
Scrambling to my feet, I leave the closet. “Ryan, baby, where are you? Please call me. Please let me know you’re okay. I know Troy talked to you and whatever he said, whatever he did, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you. I’m coming to find you, okay? I’m—god, just—I’m coming.”
Clutching my phone, I hitch up the bottom of my dress as I search the venue. “Has anyone seen him?” I ask Sully as I pass him in the front hall.
“No,” he replies, his expression worried. “We’re all looking,” he assures me. “He’s here somewhere, Tess.”
“Please keep looking,” I say, dashing away from him.
If I were Ryan, where would I go? I don’t leave in my car, but I’m nowhere to be found on the premises. Where am I? Where feels safe?
I stop in my tracks as I look around the kitchen. The confused staff look back at me, packing away their catering equipment. He’s not here. God, where would he go? Where would I go if I was running from myself? If I was feeling trapped, with nowhere left to run, where would I go? Where would I stand to meet my end?
Spinning on my heel, I hurry out of the kitchen through the side door, the cool January air caressing my fevered skin as I do my least favorite thing on earth. I kick off my heels, hike up the bottom of my dress, and I run. I run to Ryan.
Looping around the back side of the building, I take the stairs up onto the back deck and race across it, heading for the boardwalk. If I was feeling driven to the end of my rope, I would run until there was nowhere left to go. I would run to the water’s edge.
My feet pound the boardwalk, and my breath comes out in sharp pants as I crest the dune. I stop at the end of the boardwalk, my naked toes right on the edge. A sea of white sand stretches out before me, ending in the black of the ocean.
“Where are you?” I say, my gaze darting left and right.
The torches remain unlit, but there’s enough light pollution even on this stormy night for me to peer down the beach and see a pacing silhouette some hundred yards away.
It’s Ryan. He’s safe.
I sigh with relief, even as I hitch my dress back up and take to the beach. I run to him, my feet sinking in the deep, cold sand. Beyond us, less than a mile out, the thunderhead rolls in, dark and ominous, the clouds rumbling like the deep belly of a hungry beast.
Ryan stands at the surf’s edge in his tuxedo, the water lapping inches from his feet. His phone light glows in the darkness like a beacon, drawing me to him. He holds it up over a clutch of papers in his hand, reading them.
My heart sinks. This is what brought him out here, whatever Troy gave him. “Ryan,” I call, needing him to see me.
He spins around, his face cast in darkness by the bright light of his phone. “Don’t come any closer!”
I stop on instinct. He’s still a good fifteen yards away. “What are you doing out here?”
“Tess, go back,” he shouts. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Ryan—what happened? What did Troy say to you? What did he do?”
“I think he served me a restraining order,” he calls.
My heart drops. “What?”
“I think it’s for you. Tess, please don’t come any closer. I can’t—I don’t know what this is,” he says, his tone anguished.
I try to catch my breath, taking a step closer. “Well, what does it say?”
“I just said I don’t fucking know. I’m not a lawyer!”
“If it’s a restraining order for me, I don’t even think that’s legal. What does it say?”
“I just said I don’t fucking know,” he shouts, his phone glowing over the papers again.
“Well, am I listed as the plaintiff? Are you the defendant?”
“I don’t—where would it say that?”
“At the top,” I reply, taking another step closer. “Babe, it’s the first thing. The top usually lists the court and the district and the case number, along with the plaintiff and defendant.”
He looks down at the document again. “Okay…so if my name is on the second line, what does that mean?”
I grab my side, holding the stitch as I catch my breath. “Bottom line is usually for the defendant. Does it say ‘defendant’? If it’s a TRO application, it might say ‘applicant’ and then list my name, which would mean Troy is doing all kinds of illegal shit. He can’t just fill out a TRO on my behalf. But this isn’t my area of law,” I admit. “I’m only going off what I saw in law school and courtroom dramas.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” he says, shining his phone light on it again.
Watching him struggle, a niggling awareness eats at me. “Ryan…do you mean you can’t understand it…or you can’t read it?”
“Don’t fucking patronize me,” he shouts, his hackles raised. He’s in defense mode. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s unraveling at the seams.
I take another step closer. Then another. We’re within ten feet of each other now, and I can see his features clearly—the stress, the worry.
“I told you to stay back,” he says, but the fight is leaving him. He craves my closeness as much as I crave his.
I have to know. I have to ask.
“Ryan…baby, can you read?”
“Of course, I can fucking read. I’m not an idiot, Tess.”
“Okay…then read it out to me. Read the first line. Just the first one.”
He groans, looking around hopelessly before he flashes the camera light over at me. “Is…do you spell your name T-E-R-E-S-A?”
“Yes,” I reply. “Yes, that’s Teresa.”
His eyes narrow at me. “Teresa?”
“That’s my name, Ryan. My legal name is Teresa. Is that the first name listed?”
“Yeah.”
Oh, shit. Troy, what the hell did you do?
“And…do you see R-Y-A-N—”
“I know how to spell my own name.”
“Okay,” I say, as gently as possible.
“But this font is—fuck, he did it on purpose. He made the font so fucking small. He shrunk it down so I can’t read it. The letters—they all blur together.” He looks down at the page again. Then he looks back up at me, his expression anguished. “If I have time, if—I just need to take some time, and I can usually work it out, you know?”
I just nod. “I know, baby.”
He shakes the papers in the air. “But that fucking monster knew! He served me this and told me I’ll go to fucking jail over it, and I couldn’t even argue with him because he knows I can’t—” His words stop as he drops the papers to his side. Looking out at the dark surf, he just shakes his head, battered and helpless.
Weeks of missed clues suddenly align themselves in my mind, and I feel like the biggest fool. How did I not see it? How did he hide it from me so well? At the same time, my hatred for Troy grows exponentially. Somehow, he dug deep enough into Ryan’s private life to learn this about him, and then he found a way to weaponize it. It’s truly the most base, demeaning form of cruelty. I could kill him for it.
And it makes me love Ryan even more. He’s strong. He copes. More than that, he thrives. My sweet beach puppy, my valiant protector. God, he’s just mine. I need to bring him back to me.
“Ryan, honey, are you dyslexic?”
His gaze darts to me and he glares, his walls firmly up. For once in our relationship, he’s the one feeling backed into a corner.
“It’s okay if you are,” I say. “And I’m not angry at you for hiding it from me. I just need to know.” I point to the documents in his hand. “If Troy gave you that, we need to be able to read it, so we know what we’re dealing with, okay? So…are you?”
Slowly, Ryan nods. “Yeah.”
“How bad is it?”
“Severe,” he admits. “I have dyslexia and dysgraphia. Most days it’s so bad I can hardly read anything. My spelling is worse. It’s…fuck, it’s exhausting. And embarrassing,” he adds.
I close the space between us, looking up at my handsome hockey boy. The knot of his tie is loosened, the top button undone. His hair is no longer slicked back behind his ears. In his anxiety, he’s been fiddling with it. And now the wind from the coming storm whips some of the loose blond strands across his brow.
In his body, I see the man, powerful and strong. Millionaire NHL hotshot Ryan Langley, star forward of the Jacksonville Rays. But in his pretty green eyes I see the boy, lost and embarrassed and coping in a world that has been unkind.
“The oven,” I whisper. “Bake and broil. You—”
“The font on those dials is always so damn small,” he says. “And I was in a rush and the words look the same. That’s why I don’t cook. I can never follow the stupid instructions. I always mess it up. I mess everything up.”
I nod, more pieces clicking into place. “And the voice memos?”
“Easier than texting.”
“Your contracts…your finances…”
He just shrugs. “Why do it wrong when I can just pay to have someone do it right? MK knows. He’s cool about it. He always breaks things down to make sure I understand.”
“And the beach? The release form?” I remember he made a joke of turning away, like he was hiding his answers so I didn’t cheat.
“I had Joey fill it out when you walked away,” he admits. “I said I hit my hand on a weight machine at the gym. He didn’t ask questions.”
Is it odd to say that I’m impressed? His skill at coping is off the charts. “I didn’t see it,” I admit. “Ryan, I didn’t know.”
“That’s kind of the point,” he replies. “I don’t want people knowing this about me, Tess. I don’t want them judging me or pitying me or calling me stupid. I’m not stupid, I—’ He groans, glancing my way. “I really didn’t want you to know.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to give you one more reason to think I’m no good for you,” he admits.
My heart stops. “Oh…Ryan—”
“You know it’s true,” he snaps, glaring at me. “Tess, you’re so fucking smart. You’re a lawyer and you run nonprofits.” He shakes his head. “I just play hockey—”
“Don’t,” I say, stepping forward and grabbing his wrist. “Don’t say that. There is nothing wrong with you, Ryan. I would never say that. I would never even think it. And you don’t have to carry this alone,” I add. “You don’t have to hide or be ashamed or think people would actually choose not to be with you over having a learning difference.”
“I’ve been hiding it for so long,” he say, the pain evident in his voice. “I’m so fucking tired. This shit is hard enough for me to deal with every day without other people piling on.”
“And Troy piled on, didn’t he?”
“He’s a fucking asshole.” He says the words, and I know they’re meant to imply his indifference, but I can see it in his eyes: Ryan is anything but indifferent to the insults Troy flung his way.
“What did he say to you?” I ask, squeezing his wrist.
But Ryan pulls away.
“Ryan—”
“All I am is hockey,” he says again. “It’s all I have to offer you, Tess. I have no other way to earn a living. My dyslexia is so fucking severe—” He groans, pacing away. Behind him, the thunderhead rolls closer. The static rises in the air, the threat of rain looming.
“I barely made it through school,” he goes on. “They passed me through high school on a technicality. I took to the draft the first chance I had because I was never going to survive college. Tess, if I don’t have hockey, I have nothing. I have to play and earn and stay on the ice as long as possible. It’s not just about me and you and the life I wanna make for us. You know I’m putting Cassie through college too. And I’m hoping my mom will retire this year. It’s all on me.”
My heart thrums, loving how well he cares for those he loves. “Oh, honey, and no one can take that from you—”
“This can,” he shouts, shaking the papers at me. “I think this is a restraining order. Which means that if I get close to you, I can go to jail. Dealing with some bad press is one thing. Even with bad press, they’ll still let me play. But a criminal record for breaking a restraining order is a total non-fucking-starter. I’ll lose everything. My mom—my sister—” He spins away, shoulders heaving with emotion.
After a moment, I hold out my hand. “Give them to me, Ryan.”
He doesn’t turn around.
“Please,” I beg. “You said you trust me, remember? Did you mean it, or has this all been about the thrill of the chase?”
He spins around with a glare. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You trust me when we’re naked. You trust me with your body. Trust me with your heart too. Trust me, Ryan. I’m not going anywhere. I’m sticking. You’re sticking, and I’m sticking too. I can help you. I will help you.” I hold out my hand again, waiting.
Slowly, he nods and hands the papers over.
I take them, and he holds his phone flashlight over the pages. I squint, trying to make out the text. He’s right, it looks like someone reduced the print size to like eight percent. “Babe, I can barely read this either. I don’t think you can even file it looking like this. A judge would have a cow.” I scan the pages as best I can, checking the signatures. Slowly, I look up, a smile spreading on my face.
Ryan holds his breath. “Wait, Tess—fuck, why are you smiling?”
I drop the papers to my side, breathing a sigh of relief. “Because we’ve got him,” I whisper.
“What?”
I close my eyes, body humming. Oh god, I’ve got him. In his rush to checkmate me, Troy left himself exposed at last. He’s made a critical error. For so long, I’ve been the one running as he chased me around the board, claiming all my defenses and boxing me in the corner. Now it’s my turn to step boldly forward, a queen in her crown. I have everything I need to checkmate him. I have everything I need to be free.
Ryan looks down at me, his eyes searching my face. “Tess—”
I step in, wrapping my arms around his neck, the fraudulent restraining order still clutched in my hand. Pulling him down to me, I kiss his parted lips. He’s stiff against me, his body still coiled tight by fear. But each kiss softens his hesitation. I press myself against him, willing him to feel how much I need him, how much I love him. His mouth opens, and I flick my tongue between his lips, coaxing him.
Be with me, your goddess, your queen.
“I love you,” I whisper against his mouth. “I will never let him hurt you. I’m your goddess, remember? I protect what’s mine.”
With a groan, Ryan pulls me to him. He wraps me in his arms just as the first drops of rain begin to fall. A flash of lightning sparks overhead and we both gasp, breaking our kiss. I look up into his eyes and the heavens open, freezing cold rain pouring down.
“Come on,” he shouts over the din, grabbing my free hand.
“Wait,” I cry, anchoring my feet in the sand.
He spins around. “Tess, it’s not safe out here—”
“I don’t care about our pasts,” I call out to him. “I don’t care about this,” I add, dropping the wet documents into the surf. The tide pulls them back and I lose them in the waves. “Stand here with me and let the rain wash it all away.”
He stands with me, our hands clasped together, as the rain pours down. “What are you gonna do now?” he calls over the thunder.
“Now, I make you a vow,” I say with a smile. “I am done running.”
He stills, the rain drenching his head and shoulders. It drips down his beautiful face. “Say it again.”
I step closer, gazing up at him. “All my life, I’ve been running and searching and looking for that place that feels like home,” I say over the rain. “All the while, I’ve been alone. I thought it was my curse. Poor Tess, destined to be alone forever.”
“And now?”
I smile up at him. “And now, tonight, I ran out here to find you. Ryan, I ran to you. I ran home. And now I’m done running.”
He cups my face with his hand, our faces inches apart. “That’s all I want. I’ll be your home, and you’ll be mine.”
I nod, covering his hand with mine. We lean in to kiss again, but a clap of lightning forks right above us and we duck on instinct, throwing our arms above our heads.
“Tess!”
“Ryan!”
We turn to see a group of people with umbrellas moving down the sand towards us.
“Get outta the rain before you get your crazy asses struck by lightning,” Jake shouts.
“Come on,” Ryan says, grabbing my hand again.
Hitching up my soaking wet dress, I run at Ryan’s side, racing back to where all the Rays wait at the end of the boardwalk. We sink in the deep sand, meeting them at the foot of the dunes.
“What the hell were you two doing out there?” Rachel cries, stepping forward with an umbrella, trying to cover us both.
Karlsson steps up on Ryan’s other side, raising his umbrella high.
We’re both shivering, wet through to the bone, with lovesick smiles on our faces. I look around and see that everyone is here, all our friends we love like family—Rachel and her guys, Shelby and Josh, Poppy, Novy and Morrow, Cheryl and Nancy and Joey. Everyone was looking for us. Everyone cares.
“Are you okay?” Rachel says.
Ilmari steps around me, wrapping me in his dry tuxedo coat.
“Oh—your speech,” I cry. “I ruined it.”
He gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze. “There’s always next year.”
I smile, my shoulders sagging with relief, even as I shiver.
“Troy left,” says Caleb, his eyes locked on me. “We watched him get in the Uber.”
“What’s the plan here, Tess?” says Jake. “That asshole’s never gonna stop.”
“No more playing defense,” Ryan says.
I glance up at him, my hand still clutched in his. “What?”
“I’m a forward,” he says at me. “That means I don’t sit back and wait to take the hits. I bring the fight to the other team. Let me do this, Tess. Let me help you. We tried your way. Now I want to try mine.”
“Let us all help you,” Jake adds.
“You’re not alone, Tess,” says Caleb.
Ilmari’s firm hand gives my shoulder another squeeze, and I have to fight back fresh tears.
They’re all here. They all care. My team. My family.
“Put us in, Coach,” calls Josh from under his umbrella, Shelby on his arm. “Just tell us how we can help.”
I look around at everyone, Ryan’s hand clasped in mine. Swallowing down my nerves, I clear my throat and shout out to the group, “I want to thank you all. Not just for coming out tonight and supporting our cause but…well, for supporting me. From the first moment I met you all, you’ve been so kind and welcoming.” I glance from Poppy to Shelby, who both offer me smiles.
“You took me in and made me feel like family,” I add, looking at Rachel and her guys. “Now Ryan is my family. Like the sea turtles we all came out tonight to support, Ryan and I are caught in a bit of a tangled net. We ask for your patience and your help as we fight our way free.”
“Anything you need,” Jake intones.
“Ryan’s a Ray and you’re with Ryan,” Josh adds. “We take care of our own.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. No more defense. We’re playing offense. We’re taking the fight to Troy. I have a plan, and I think it will work. My freedom is so close, I can taste it.
I turn to Ryan, squeezing his hand. “Babe, have you ever been to Cincinnati?”
