The Christmas You Crash (Going Rogue #2)

Chapter 5

five

RYDER

Lexi Cross is not a fan of her dad. Unfortunately, that also means she’s not a big fan of me. I guess I can’t blame her if he blew her off the day I got my injury, but I didn’t ask him to stick around and check up on me. Hell, I’m a grown man. He should have gone out with his daughter.

As far as I know, Lexi’s never been to a game since I’ve been on the team. We all know the coach has a daughter, but the photo on his desk has to be from when she was a teenager. Maybe fourteen or fifteen. She looks nothing like the woman sitting beside me, sipping hot chocolate. This woman is beautiful and tough, if a bit jaded. The girl in the photo had a wide-eyed innocence that the current iteration of Lexi seems to lack.

Sipping my drink beside her at the kitchen island, I’m so tempted to ask her what their deal is, but I won’t. Though we’re enjoying a ceasefire right now because I’m leaving, I doubt it would hold if I asked something so intensely personal. I mean, she packed up her shit and drove to an isolated cabin in a town of only three thousand people for Christmas, rather than spending it with her dad. There has to be a story there.

I don’t understand it myself. My mom passed away when I was seven, and my dad died four years ago. I’d give anything to spend the holidays with them again. Anything.

“Are you sure your hand is okay?” Lexi asks, breaking our silence. “I can look at it and make sure your stitches didn’t open.”

“It would be bleeding through the gauze if they had,” I reassure her. I’m confident everything is as it should be, even if it is throbbing.

She peers at me from beneath the long fringe of dark blonde lashes. “I’m really sorry. Again. I feel terrible.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” I say with a chuckle. “After all, you were just trying to keep me from reaching for my garrote.”

That makes her laugh, and the sound is like chimes on a late spring day. It warms my chest. She’s gorgeous, even frowning, but a smiling Lexi? Damn. If she wasn’t Coach’s daughter, I might try to charm my way into an invitation for the night. I’m not usually a one-night-stand kind of guy, but I’d happily enjoy a night or two with this woman if the situation was different. Hell, there wouldn’t even need to be any sex involved. We could sit around and talk about the weather, and she’d probably make it sound like a revelation.

“Are you in criminal justice or something?”

She nearly spits out her cocoa. “Me? Oh, god, no. I’m working on my MBA. I just really love true crime stuff.”

“I’ve never really understood women’s fascination with brutal murders.”

“We’re full of rage,” she says with a shrug, as if that explains it. “Plus, my favorite girl has a podcast and a YouTube channel where she goes over the details of crimes while putting on her makeup. It’s fun and she’s hilarious.”

“Sure,” I say with a shake of my head. “Murder is fun and hilarious.”

“We all have our things.” She shrugs again before tipping her mug back and draining the last of her cocoa. She stands, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. “Do you want more?”

Damn. I think that’s my cue to leave. “Oh, no. Thanks though. I should get going. I don’t want to impose on you any more than I already have.”

Lexi’s voice is soft as she tucks a strand of damp hair behind her ear. “Yeah. And we’re supposed to get a lot of snow, so you probably don’t want to wait any longer.”

My attention swings to the now-dark wall of windows. I can see the flakes falling, thanks to the light mounted on the back of the house, but I can’t tell how deep it’s getting. With all the mayhem that’s gone down in the last hour, I completely forgot that the snow was already becoming an issue for my car on the drive in. Maybe I should find a hotel or a bed-and-breakfast nearby to hole up in until this passes.

“Yeah. I think you’re probably right.” It’s my turn to stand. I bring my mug to the sink, where I wash it, before excusing myself to use the bathroom. I don’t want to be stuck in my car with a full bladder. Been there, done that. It’s not fun. Once I’m done, I grab my duffel bag, pull on my layers, and walk toward the front door.

Lexi and I stand there, staring at each other for a moment, before she shakes her head and says, “Well, drive safe, Ryder.”

I’m tempted to hug her, but I don’t think she’d accept one from me. Not knowing what I do about her dad and the fact that I’m the reason he bailed on her last week. But I am worried that she’s out here alone. And if her dad doesn’t know she’s here, does anyone? I can’t leave until I confirm she’s going to be okay. “Thanks. Hey, does anyone know you’re out here? It’s just, if the weather gets bad and you need help, does anyone know to check on you?”

“My best friend, Rachel, knows I’m here,” she says.

“She’s nearby, in case you need her?”

“Uh, well, no. She’s in Chicago. But it’s fine. I have everything I need. I won’t need help.”

I don’t like that. I don’t know Lexi, and I’m perfectly aware that she doesn’t need a white knight to ride in and save the day, but my dad raised me right, and I won’t be able to sleep tonight unless I know she has more than one person to call if she needs help. “Here,” I say, holding out my hand. “Let me give you my number. I’m planning to get a hotel nearby, anyway. Then, if you have my info and you need help, you can call someone closer.”

She hesitates for a moment, studying me. Like she thinks this is some kind of trick.

“I promise I won’t call you or bother you. This is just in case of an emergency.”

After waging an intense inner struggle that plays out vividly across her features, Lexi finally unlocks her phone and hands it to me. I punch in my number and send a text to myself that simply says my name, then hand it back. She pockets it with a grin. “Thanks. But if you stalk me, I’ll tell my dad you saw my nipples.”

I bark out a laugh. “I sure as hell don’t want that. Don’t worry, though. I’m not the stalking type. I don’t even own a pair of binoculars.”

“Whew. Crisis averted, then.” Lexi offers me a genuine smile that I have no problem returning.

I wish she wasn’t the coach’s daughter. I wish she didn’t have obvious issues with hockey players. I wish we had more than this one hour that will live rent-free in my mind forever.

“Merry Christmas, Lexi. I hope it’s exactly what you need it to be.” I open the front door a crack, and a blast of arctic air whips past my legs. Damn. The temperature is really dropping.

“Merry Christmas, Ryder. Sorry about flashing you and stuff. Drive safe, okay? Maybe text me when you get to where you’re going?” She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth again, worrying at it.

God, she’s sweet. “Aw, Lexi Cross, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t,” she says lightly. “But if you end up dead in a ditch somewhere, my dad would be so pissed. He’d probably never speak to me again, and I’d miss our quarterly conversations.”

Fuck. Rubbing my chest, I don’t feel quite as light after that little quip, but I let it go. “Coach would have my ass if I ended up dead in a ditch,” I agree. “Good night.”

“Night.”

With that, I pull the door open, and my stomach lurches. There’s so much more snow on the ground than when I arrived. Hell, there must be at least another inch or two covering my car. I’d better figure out somewhere close I can stay and then hightail it out of here, or I really will end up in a ditch.

I’m not the only one who looks concerned. Lexi’s brow furrows, a deep groove appearing between her eyebrows. But before she can say anything, I tip my beanie at her and head out into the night. The only reason I don’t eat it as I waddle to my car is because I’ve got years of practice on the ice. Not that penguin-walking through slick, fluffy snow is quite the same as ice skating, but it’s close enough that I make it to my car in one piece.

Once I’ve loaded my bag, I start the engine, brush the snow off my little sports car, blast the heat, and Google the nearest hotel. There’s one about five miles away, and their website says they have vacancies, so I don’t even bother calling. I need to get on the road as quickly as possible.

Lexi watches from the front porch, her arms wrapped around herself to keep warm. I wave, flash my headlights, then throw the car in drive so I can turn around. The last thing I want to do is try to back out of this long, winding driveway in this much snow. She waves in return before heading back inside, shutting the door behind her.

It’s stupid, but I feel the loss of her immediately.

“She’s not for you,” I tell myself as I lift my foot off the brake. Nothing happens. The car doesn’t move. “Okay. That’s not ideal.” I press gently on the gas. Although the car moves, the tires spin, unable to find traction. Careful not to press too hard on the pedal, I urge it forward, wishing I’d bought a truck or something more practical for Minnesota winters. But no, I had to buy something fancy and cool when I signed that contract with more zeros than I’d ever dreamed of.

Finally, the car starts to move, and I give a little cheer. I can do this. I manage to turn it around and begin my trip along the winding gravel drive. It’s slightly downhill, so I keep my foot on the brake, ready to slow myself down if I pick up too much speed.

I make it all of thirty feet, and when I try to take the first gentle curve, my stupid car drifts.

“No, no, no, no, no.” The antilock brakes vibrate and pump, but there’s too much snow on the ground. It’s a slow slide into the ditch—of course—and my impractical car comes to a stop with a dull thud and a spray of snow.

Great. Just. Freaking. Great.

I put the cursed thing in park, cut the ignition, count to ten to calm myself down, then get out of the car. A quick look tells me there’s no way in hell I’m getting this thing out of the ditch without a tow, so I won’t even try. I strap my duffel bag to my back and begin the short trek back up to the cabin. Except, when I try to climb out of the ditch, I slip and fall on my ass. Three separate times. My sneakers are soggy, my ass is soaked and starting to freeze, and it takes almost ten minutes of slipping and sliding before I’m, once again, standing in front of my coach’s cabin.

Lexi may be pissed, but I’ll call a tow truck as soon as I get changed out of these wet clothes so I don’t lose a testicle.

Picking my way up the stairs, careful not to fall and land on my face, I let out a sigh of relief when I make it without wiping out. And then, despite having a key, I take a deep breath, raise my fist, and knock on the door.