The Christmas You Crash (Going Rogue #2)

Chapter 26

twenty-six

LEXI

A sigh of relief gusts out of my lungs as I close the door between Ryder and me. It’s the first moment we’ve been apart all day, and I am feeling all the things. My fingers have been twitching with the need to text Rachel since the moment I walked out of my bedroom and found myself in a winter wonderland. So, before I get dressed, I do just that. I flop back onto my bed and open my messaging app.

Me

Merry Christmas, Rach!

Her response is almost instant, just like I knew it would be.

Rachel

Merry Christmas, Lex! I miss you. How’re things with the hockey hottie?

Always right to the point. I love that about her.

Me

Ummmm, things with Ryder are great, actually. Really great. He’s... He’s great.

Rachel

LOL. How many times can you use the word great in one text?

Apparently three?

You’re falling for him, aren’t you?

No!

Yes.

Crap.

LOL! Oh, Alexis. What are you going to do? He plays for your dad.

I know he does. And I have no idea what to do. I really like him, Rach. He’s sweet and funny and romantic. He woke up early this morning to decorate the cabin for me and make breakfast. You should see it. It’s beautiful.

Really? Wow. That is romantic. Garrett never would have done anything like that.

I know.

God, Garrett was such a dick. I know you were heartbroken when he broke up with you, but I never really liked that guy. He was too full of himself.

Yeah, well, live and learn. And from now on, I’ll trust you when you tell me a guy is a douchebag.

Damn straight, you will. Now, what are you going to do about Ryder? Does he want to date you?

Yes.

And you want to date him, but you’re scared.

Duh.

What exactly are you scared of?

My dad finding out. Him being pissed. Or him not caring at all. Of getting my heart broken again. Of falling for someone who will choose hockey over me, in the end.

Like your dad always has.

Like my dad always has. Yep.

Look, I don’t know Ryder, but from what little you’ve told me so far, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d hurt you. At least, not on purpose. And hockey’s his job, babe. But that doesn’t mean you won’t be important to him.

I know. I do. I just... I want to come first for once, you know?

I get that. But how do you know he won’t put you first unless you give him a shot? You deserve to be happy and loved. But to get that, you have to take risks.

Dammit. Stop being so logical and wise.

Can’t. It’s who I am.

LOL. I miss you. Next break, I’m coming to Chicago to visit you.

Please! I miss you so much.

Talk more soon? I gotta go before Ryder wonders where I disappeared to.

You know it. Love you, Lex. Merry Christmas.

Love you too. Merry Christmas.

Clean and dressed, I wander out of my bedroom to find Ryder with another cookie in his hand as he stares out at the snow-covered woods and the lake beyond. For such a large man, there’s something so pure and boyish about his expression as he admires the scenery. It’s enticing in a way I can’t fully articulate. He’s not endlessly posturing and pretending to be someone else. He’s just Ryder . Never once, in the days we’ve been here, has he made it seem like he thinks he’s hot shit or somehow deserving of worship simply because he plays for the Rogues.

My ex-boyfriend was the opposite. He loved being looked at as though he was special. And Garrett was always after adulation and special treatment. Even with me.

God, past Lexi was such a blind fool. Everything was always about Garrett. What he wanted to do that weekend. How he wanted to have sex. What he wanted to talk about. Looking back, I’m not sure he ever really knew me. Which is sad, because we dated for two years. I sloughed off pieces of myself for him the way you peel off dead skin after a particularly brutal sunburn, because there wasn’t room for all of me in our relationship. Not when his ego and his desires were so consuming.

But Ryder asks me questions. He watches my face so he can pick up non-verbal cues. It’s been less than a week, but I think he actually sees me. Or, at least, he’s starting to.

“Ready to decorate some cookies?” I ask him as I wrap my arms around his back. I can’t help it. Whenever we’re in the same room, I have this compulsion to touch him. To soak up his warmth.

His strong hands run over mine, and I squeeze him tighter. “Heck, yeah. I can’t promise they’ll look good, but I’m ready.”

“Eh,” I say, forcing myself to peel my arms off his waist. “As long as they taste yummy, that’s all that matters.”

I was wrong. Taste is not all that matters.

“Oh, my god,” I gasp through gut-busting laughter. “It looks like an actual turd.”

Ryder’s arms cross over his chest, and he rolls his eyes as he peers down his nose at me. “Does not. That is clearly Rudolph. See?” He points to the glob of reddish icing that has somehow melted into the poo-brown monstrosity he’s calling a reindeer face. “That’s his red nose.”

“Looks like a popped hemorrhoid,” I say under my breath between bouts of giggling.

He sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know Griffin Wright? On my team?”

I nod, not sure where this is going.

“Yeah, well, one night after an away game, he dropped his pants, stuck his sweaty ass in my face, and asked me if I thought he had hemorrhoids.” Ryder’s face screws up into an expression of deep disgust. “He did. And they looked nothing like Rudolph’s nose.”

Tears stream down my face. My sides hurt from how hard I’m laughing. It’s impossible not to picture all of that happening, and I don’t know if it’s from my teasing, or the memory of Griffin’s butt issues, but Ryder’s suddenly side-eyeing his Rudolph cookie.

“Whatever,” he says, shoving his Poodolph cookie away. “Yours can’t look that much better. I mean, how are you supposed to make anything look good with this runny icing?”

I try to hold in a laugh, and it just ends up coming out as a snort. Ryder’s eyebrows arch at that, but I ignore him. “It’s royal icing. It’s supposed to be runny. That’s how you get such a smooth surface, see?” With a step to the right, I move out of the way, so he can see the cookie I’ve been working on. It’s in the shape of an old-fashioned ornament, and I’ve decorated it with polka dots and little stars that make it look like the light is reflecting off of it. Ryder gapes at it with an open mouth, looks up to gape at me, then returns his attention to the cookie.

“What? How?”

My cheeks hurt from smiling at his adorable sputtering. “You just gotta pipe a little border, let it mostly dry, then fill in the empty spaces like I showed you.”

“But I did that,” Ryder says, his gaze pinging between my cookie and his. “Why does mine look like poop and yours look so pretty?” He glares at his deformed cookie.

My lips hurt from pressing them together so hard in an effort to stop my laughter. “I thought you said it doesn’t look like poop?”

He rolls his eyes. “We both know I’m full of shit.”

“Like your cookie,” I offer. He shoots daggers at me with his eyes, but then he’s laughing.

“Fine, yes. Like my cookie. Ugh.” He presses his palms flat against the counter before bringing his head to rest between them. His voice is muffled when he says, “My mom would be horrified.”

Chuckling, I rub my hand up and down his spine. “Nah. Moms are great at pretending that whatever art crime you bring home is the next Mona Lisa. She would have told you it was amazing, then locked herself in the bathroom to laugh at you. But you never would have known.”

Ryder appears dismayed at this. He straightens and turns to face me with a slack jaw. “Are you trying to tell me she didn’t actually love all the drawings I gave her as a kid?”

My nose twitches, and I’m fighting my face to remain neutral. “No, of course not. I’m sure you were an excellent artist. One of the few kids with genuine artistic talent.”

“I’m questioning my whole childhood,” he says with a shake of his head. “Was everything a lie?”

Offering him another pat on the back, I giggle. He’s adorable, and fun, and I never want this afternoon to end. I wish his mom was still around to see what kind of man he’s become. I’m positive she would be so proud of him. She and her husband raised someone who strikes the right balance between confident and self-deprecating and sweet.

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” I tease. “Is your name really even Ryder?”

That has him laughing. I almost don’t hear the vibrating of my phone. Picking it up, I see Mom flash across the screen. Speaking of mothers.

Ryder notices me staring at the screen. “Do you want some privacy?”

“No, that’s okay. Just don’t make me laugh. She probably thinks I’m with my best friend, Rachel, or something. She’ll ask questions if she hears a guy in the background.” And I do not want to answer questions about Ryder or this week.

“Got it,” he says, pantomiming zipping his lips.

I’m smiling and shaking my head as I press the answer button. “Hey, Mom. Merry Christmas.”

“Sweetheart! Merry Christmas. I miss you.”

Some of the tightness that’s been strangling my chest since my dad called Ryder eases with my mom’s words. She’s not perfect, but she’s a great mom, and I love her. Don’t love Jeff, but I love her. “I miss you too, Mom. How’s your day been so far?”

“Oh, it’s been lovely, just lovely. We got some snow. It’s always magical to have a white Christmas, isn’t it?”

My eyes move to the windows, where all I can see is white. Despite my annoyance with the power outage and the fact that the roads are impassable, the snow really is beautiful. Even I can’t deny that. Plus, it’s given me this time with Ryder, so maybe it is a bit magical. “Yeah, it is. We got a lot of snow here too. It was basically a blizzard.”

My mom hums a sound of surprise. “Oh, really? I didn’t realize the Twin Cities got hit that hard. I saw that there was supposed to be a decent amount of snow, but a blizzard? Are you safe?”

Shit. “Oh, yeah, I’m totally safe. And I don’t know if it was technically a blizzard, but it sure was a lot of snow.”

“Well, as long as you’re safe and warm, honey, that’s all that matters.” She pauses as someone speaks in the background. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it sounds like a man’s voice. Probably Jeff. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “So, are you with your father today?”

I should have expected the awkward questions to come sooner or later. It’s always like this with her, now. She’s aware I don’t see Dad often, but she still asks every time we talk. I know she’s hurting, and I know she’s not trying to put me in the middle of things, but it’s awkward as hell for me. Especially when it comes to Jeff. I have no idea what to say to her about the guy. I want her to be happy; I do. But I just can’t make myself give Jeff a chance.

I glance at Ryder. “Nope. Not with Dad. Haven’t even talked to him today.”

My mom is silent for a beat, then she lets out a deep sigh. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. I’m sure he’s just busy. He’ll call.”

Right. He’s just busy hanging out with Rogues people and calling the guy I’m crushing on while forgetting I exist. “Yeah, Mom.” I steal another look at Ryder. “I’m sure he’ll call.”

“He will, honey. Yes, your father and I have had our differences, but there’s one thing we will always have in common—we both love you so much. He’ll call. He loves you.”

I know she’s trying to be reassuring, but it’s awfully difficult to sound convincing when you know damned well that what you’re saying might be a lie. Or, at the very least, wishful thinking. Still, I appreciate the effort.

“I don’t want to talk about Dad,” I tell her. “Tell me about your day.”

“Oh, it’s been low key. Jeff and I made breakfast, then we went to an early dinner at his sister’s house, and now we’re relaxing and watching some movies. He got me this lovely necklace. I can’t wait to show you.” Jeff says something in the background, and my mother laughs. It’s such a girlish sound, it takes me by surprise.

When did my mom start laughing like that?

“That’s nice,” I tell her.

“Jeff says Merry Christmas, by the way. Do you want to talk to him?”

God, no. “Oh, uh, tell him I said Merry Christmas, too, but I really should get going.”

“Oh?” I hate that she sounds disappointed, but come on. Forcing me to talk to a guy I don’t know and don’t particularly want to know over the phone won’t do anything but make me feel awkward as hell. “Am I interrupting something?”

A burst of panic shoots down my spine as I turn to Ryder, who’s watching this whole interaction with great interest. Like it’s another piece of the puzzle that is Lexi Cross, and he’s figuring out where this one fits. “No, not interrupting anything. I was just decorating some sugar cookies.”

“Oh, I miss doing that with you. Okay, honey, well, I’ll let you go. I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you I miss you and love you.”

“Miss you and love you too, Mom.” My heart gives a squeeze. I hate that I’m rushing to get off the phone with her, but the longer we talk, the more likely I am to slip up and say something about Ryder. And considering I don’t even know what’s going on with us, I’m certainly not in a place where I feel able to explain it to my mom. My mom, who is waiting for me to call and tell her I’ve met the one .

She’s surprisingly romantic for a woman who spent the best years of her life married to a guy more committed to his career than her.

“I’ll come by soon, okay? Thanks for calling.”

She hums a sound of excitement. “You’d better. Merry Christmas, honey.”

“Merry Christmas.”

When the line goes silent, I suck in a deep breath. I did it. I spoke to my mom without giving away what I’ve been up to. She never suspected I’m here at the cabin with a guy. A guy I’d never met before this week. She’d flip about that.

“You okay?” Ryder asks softly.

Am I? I think so. Things with my mom aren’t strained in the same way they are with my dad. “Yeah, I’m good. Now, let’s decorate some more cookies, and I’ll show you the right way to do this again.”

His embarrassed smile does funny things to my lower belly. “Sorry, Lex. I really did try.”

Hip checking him, I set a cookie down in front of him. “I know you did. And that’s what makes it so sad.”

Ryder’s booming laughter fills the room, chasing away everything that isn’t bright and vibrant.