The Christmas You Crash (Going Rogue #2)

Chapter 27

twenty-seven

LEXI

My dad doesn’t contact me until after Ryder and I have eaten the fanciest dinner we could muster with our remaining groceries. We’re snuggled up on the couch in front of a crackling fire and The Holiday when my phone buzzes. Not the buzz of a call, but a text. Thinking it’s Rachel again, I grab it with a smile on my face. There’s been a smile on my face since I woke up this morning, really. And when it has slipped, Ryder’s been right there to help me get it back.

So, of course, he notices that smile slip.

“Lexi? You okay?” His voice is so gentle. I know he can read the text—not that he would mean to, but with the way I’m resting with half of my back against half of his chest, he has a direct line of sight—and he’s probably worried about how I’ll react. Because my dad called him to say Merry Christmas in the beginning of the day, when it was all still fresh and shiny. It’s now after nine p.m. and he’s finally texting me.

Dad

Merry Christmas, Lexi. I hope you’re having fun with your friends.

That’s it. Merry Christmas , and I hope you’re having fun with your friends . What friends? He doesn’t know, because he never asked. Once again, I’m nothing more than an afterthought with him. And obligatory text to the obligatory daughter.

Ryder’s thumb traces over my hip as he speaks softly again. “Lex? Talk to me, OTG.”

I blink dumbly at the screen for another few seconds before locking my phone without sending a reply. Too little, too late. He doesn’t deserve one. Pushing a false cheerfulness into my voice, I tell Ryder I’m totally fine. But I can’t look at him while I say it. I’m shit at quickly masking my emotions, and one look at me will confirm what he probably already suspects.

I’m not okay.

“Baby.” Ryder shifts his position on the couch before grabbing me around the waist and tugging me sideways onto his lap. I don’t fight him, because I want the comfort he’s offering. In just a few days, Ryder Hanson has begun to feel like my safe place. It’s dangerous and probably stupid of me to indulge in these feelings, but I can’t deny that I feel them. His knuckles put soft pressure on my chin, silently asking me to look at him. And because I can’t seem to resist the man, I do.

His expression is gentle and full of concern when I meet his gaze, and it cracks me wide open. Despite how desperately I will my eyes to stay dry, tears pool in them before overflowing and dripping down my face. Ryder wipes them away with slow brushes of his thumbs, and I break a little more. My lip quivers, and a sob wrenches itself out of my chest.

“Oh, Lexi.” And then Ryder’s gathering me in his arms and pressing me into his broad chest, and I’m crying into his hoodie like it’s one giant handkerchief. The material and his warm pecs muffle my sobs as he strokes my hair and rubs my back. I should feel embarrassed about falling apart like this, but I don’t. Somehow, I don’t. Ryder’s done his own grieving, hasn’t he? It seems unlikely he’s a stranger to tears.

“I just don’t understand why,” I choke out into his chest through my cries. “What did I do to make him not care?”

“Hey,” Ryder says, with steel in his voice. His arms band tighter around me. “No. Absolutely not. You didn’t do a damned thing, Alexis. You’re amazing.”

“If that’s true, then why does it seem like he forgot about me today? Why does it seem like he always forgets about me? Am I not worth the effort?”

It’s the first time I’ve voiced my fears. They’ve run through my head like lawless rioters, looting and trashing my confidence for years. But I’ve never said the words aloud. Why now? Why with Ryder? Why do I feel so utterly safe with a man I barely know? Am I that desperate for love and acceptance?

Ryder’s muscles bunch and flex against me as he holds me and strokes my hair. So much power coiled within this man, and he’s using it to be gentle. To comfort me. Hell, if that doesn’t make me fall for him harder.

“I can’t pretend I understand Coach,” he murmurs close to my ear. “And, frankly, he’s pissing me the hell off. If you were my daughter, I’d be so far up your ass, you’d be annoyed with how supportive I was.”

I let out a watery laugh.

“Seriously, Lex, you’re more than worth the effort. God, baby. I barely know you and I can see that. All I could think about last night as I held you was making you feel special. Giving you a reason to light up the way you always do, and to get even a fraction of that light to shine in my direction. You’re worth everything, baby.”

He’s so earnest when he says it, I believe him. And then I’m sobbing even harder.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m sure your dad knows how amazing you are. He’s just distracted right now.”

I know the words are meant to be reassuring, but they’re not. “He’s always distracted, Ryder.” I finally give in to the urge to look up at him, despite how much of a mess I am. “He’s been distracted since I was a girl. If I told him I never wanted to see or speak to him again, he’d probably feel nothing but relief.”

The way Ryder’s face screws up into one of disbelief and anger stops up some of the cracks in my heart. “That’s bullshit, Lexi. No one who lost you could feel relief.”

Oh, sweet man. How wrong he is. And I tell him so.

“You’re sweet, Ryder, but wrong. When my ex couldn’t get what he wanted out of me, I’m pretty sure he felt relieved to walk away. When I told my dad I wasn’t going to spend Christmas with him, I’m pretty sure he was relieved too. I think... I think maybe there’s just something wrong with me.” More secret fears spilling from my mouth and pooling at his feet.

He growls low in his throat. It’s a frustrated sound, and I close my eyes, not wanting to see his annoyance with me. Fingers grip my chin with care. “Alexis, look at me.”

I suck in a deep breath, holding it for a count of five before releasing it and blinking my eyes open to meet his.

“Why did you just shut down on me?”

My bottom lip rolls between my teeth. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being annoying. This is so inappropriate. I can’t believe I’m crying to you about this.”

His blue eyes soften. “Shut up.”

My head lurches back and I gape at him. “What?”

“I said, shut up. You’re not being annoying or inappropriate. A little ridiculous, maybe, but not because you’re upset. It’s ridiculous that you believe I’d be annoyed by it.” He rolls his eyes again, as if I’m being completely unreasonable and anyone could tell.

“I... I...” I can’t seem to get any words out. I’m sitting in his lap, stammering like an idiot.

“If anything, I’m honored. And maybe a little hopeful.”

Blinking at him owlishly, I tilt my head to the side. “What? What do you mean?”

“I’m honored that you’d trust me with your emotions and your fears.” He tenderly brushes a stray strand of hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. “And I’m hopeful this connection means you might give this thing between us a chance once the week is over.”

My resolve is crumbling around me with every word he speaks. Because I do want that. But I’m still too scared to admit it. And what does he mean by give this thing between us a chance ? What if we want different things? I realize Ryder is different than most of the hot-shot athletes I’ve met, but could he really want a relationship with me? Not merely something casual, a long-term hookup with no strings attached, but something real?

Because I’ve done casual a few times, and it’s not my thing. I can do it, but it’s dangerous for me. I’m too prone to feeling rejected, so the few times I’ve tried to be cool and agreed to a friends-with-benefits kind of situation, I still found myself hurt at the end. Despite having agreed to the terms on the front end, my heart couldn’t get on the same page as my mind. When those guys walked away, and that was that, I still felt the sting of rejection. Because if I’d been more interesting or more beautiful, they would have wanted more, right?

God, why is it so hard to simply ask Ryder what he wants with me? To see if we’re on the same page?

Because you’re scared, dumbass.

After scanning his face for a few thunderous heartbeats, I suck in a deep breath, pull up my big-girl panties, and open myself up to the possibility of being hurt. But also to the possibility of being surprised. After all, aren’t they often one and the same?

“Ryder, when you say you want to give this a chance, what, exactly, does that mean to you?”

The way his expression softens eases some of my panic. He smiles—a tentative thing—and cups the side of my neck. His thumb brushes idly over my fluttering pulse. “I know, on paper, we just met. And I’m the first one to admit that I can be a little...intense. But I also think I may not be the only one feeling like we’ve known each other for years.” He pauses, watching my face carefully, waiting for me to spook.

I don’t. I don’t so much as move.

“Being with you this week—spending time with you—has been... Well, I haven’t felt so at ease with anyone in ages. I don’t feel like I have to hide anything from you, and I’m sure as hell not worried that you’re only laughing at my stupid jokes because you know I’m some hockey player.” He gifts me with a lopsided grin as I chuckle.

“No,” I agree. “If anything, it makes me less inclined to laugh.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “See? And I love that about you.”

I must make some kind of face at the use of the L-word , because his eyes grow comically wide, and he shakes his head again, this time more vehemently. “No, no. Don’t freak out, Oscar, I’m not saying that I love you or anything.” He gives me a guileless smile. “Poor word choice. Sorry.”

Taking pity on him, I smirk. “You don’t love me? Rude.”

“See?” His blue eyes sparkle, crinkling in the corners. “This is what I’m talking about. Don’t you feel this? This easiness between us? I don’t want this to end. I know you talked about the snow-pass thing, and if that’s really all you can give me, then I’ll take it because having a tiny piece of you is better than none of you, but I don’t think a tiny piece is going to be enough. I want more. I want to take you on dates and hear about your classes and show you off to my friends. I want you to sit near the ice at every game, and I want to win games for you and make you proud to wear my jersey.”

Oh, my heart.

Ryder inhales slowly, still watching me intently. Still waiting to see if I’ll bolt.

And I probably should. It would be the smart thing to do. Because there’s no world where this ends in anything but heartbreak for me. And yet, I find myself wanting all those things too. At least, for as long as they last.

All I can think to say is, “You want to date me?”

“Yeah, Oscar,” he says with a laugh. “I want to date you. I want to date you so hard.”

Grinning like an idiot, I press my face into his neck. I don’t know what to say. And I’m feeling all the things right now. I need a second to collect myself. When I don’t immediately say anything, he continues.

“And I know this is terrible timing because the season is underway, and I’ll be on the road a lot, and that’s not exactly ideal for dating, but with my injury, I’ll be out for another couple of weeks. It’ll give us some time to spend together and see where this goes before I have to travel with the rest of the team. It will probably be complicated, trying to schedule things around my work schedule and your classes. But I’m willing to try, if you are.”

He’s so earnest. So hopeful. He’s not wrong about our schedules being a hurdle, but I’m used to hockey schedules. I grew up working around my dad’s. I know better than most what I’d be getting into. It should be a deterrent. I always hated how much my dad was gone during the season. But I suspect Ryder would put in the effort my dad couldn’t—wouldn’t. He’d make time for me.

Do I want him to?

Shit. Yes , of course, I want him to.

“I’m willing,” I say, with my face still pressed against his neck. The words come out muffled.

“Say that again?”

Pulling away from him, I meet Ryder’s gaze. “I said, I’m willing to try. I... Well, I’ve been trying to come up with reasons I shouldn’t date you almost since the first moment we met, but none of them seem all that valid at this point.”

His cheeks are tight from how broadly he smiles at me. “Oh, yeah? And why’s that, OTG?”

“Well,” I say, blowing out a breath. “For starters, you’re not a serial killer, so my initial reason isn’t valid.”

He barks out a laugh.

“You’re not some self-centered athlete who thinks the world should revolve around him. And you’re definitely not trying to get in with my dad, because it seems you’re already more in than I am.”

Ryder frowns at that, but I make a silly face to let him know I’m only teasing. Mostly.

“But really, I’m just not done spending time with you. I don’t want to be. But I don’t think it would be wise to show up to your games in your jersey. If we do this, it has to be a secret.”

I can tell he doesn’t like that idea, but he keeps his mouth shut about it. And I love that he doesn’t like the idea of keeping our relationship secret. It means he’s not ashamed of me or unsure of me. But I’m not ready to deal with my dad and whatever backlash may come from dating someone on his team.

Besides, if we’re going to give dating a try, I want to enjoy the rush of a new relationship without all the pressure that comes along with the weight of others’ opinions and expectations. I want to focus on us and what we want. At least, for a time.

Ryder’s eyes narrow as he considers it.

“Please, Ryder.”

His dark hair bounces as he slowly nods. “All right, Lexi. We’ll do it your way for now. But you should know, I won’t hide you forever.”

And just like that, we step off the edge of a cliff, hurtling toward unknown waters.