Chapter 3

Ryder’s Pov

I’ve learned how to play a role over the years. I know how to smile for the cameras, say the right things to coaches, and pretend that the pressure of being the team’s star forward doesn’t bother me at all. Sponsors pay me millions because I make everything look easy. But as I sat in the driver’s seat of my car, staring at the bright phone screen in Sienna Vale’s hands, my cool front completely slipped.

"Wait a second," I said slowly, keeping one eye on the rainy road and one eye on her. "Why are you applying for jobs under a fake name? And why are you hiding it from your family?"

Sienna snatched her phone back, locking the screen instantly. Her dark eyes flashed with anger, her jaw setting into a stubborn line. "It’s none of your business, Ryder."

"It kind of is when you're sitting in my passenger seat looking like you just robbed a bank," I said, trying to sound careless, though my heart was beating a little faster. "I mean, your brother owns the whole team, Sienna. If you want a job in sports broadcasting, Julian could pick up his phone and get you a prime-time slot on national TV by tomorrow morning."

"That’s exactly why I didn't tell him," she snapped, turning her whole body to face me. "If Julian gets me a job, everyone will say I only got it because of my last name. They’ll look at me and see a spoiled girl who got a free pass. I want to earn it, Ryder. I want people to hire me because I’m good at what I do, not because of who my brother is."

Her words hit me straight in the chest, surprising me. Most people in her position would take the easy way out without thinking twice. But she sounded so passionate, so dead serious, that I didn't even know what to say for a second.

"So... you'd rather risk failing completely than take a little help from your family?" I asked softly.

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "I would rather fail on my own than succeed because of a lie."

I looked back out at the rain-soaked street, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. "Well, if you ever get tired of failing, you could always just analyze my games for free. You seem to love picking on me."

Sienna didn't laugh. She just stared at me with a cool, unimpressed look. "I’d rather analyze a rookie who actually wants to learn than a superstar who thinks criticism is an insult."

Ouch. Normally, when someone talked to me like that, I’d kick them out of my car. But as I pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment building, all I could think about was the way she had broken down my game earlier at the party. My coaches had told me about that same mistake a dozen times, but none of them had explained it the way she did.

"Thanks for the ride," Sienna said, grabbing her bag and reaching for the door handle.

"Wait," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

She paused, looking back at me suspiciously. "What?"

I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling a little awkward. "That game analysis you were talking about earlier... would you send it to me? I just want to see if your writing is as annoying as your talking."

A tiny, amused smirk played on her lips. "I don't work for free, Callahan. You’ll have to survive without my expert opinion."

"Come on," I chuckled, genuinely amused by her stubbornness. "I’ll buy you a coffee. A nice one. In exchange for letting me read it."

"No thanks," Sienna said, opening the car door. "I don't want you thinking a five-dollar coffee earns you special access to my mind. If you want my opinion on your game, Ryder, you can ask me like a normal human being instead of pretending you're doing me a favor."

She stepped out into the rain, slammed the door shut, and walked into her building without looking back once.

I stayed parked outside for a long time, staring at the empty front entrance. Why was she sticking in my head like this? I had a huge game coming up, and I was sitting here obsessing over the owner's sister.

My phone rang through the car speakers, breaking the quiet. It was Carter.

"Hey man, where are you?" Carter asked. "Did you drop off the princess?"

"Yeah, she's home," I grunted, putting the car in drive.

"You sound weird," Carter said instantly, laughing softly. "What happened? Did she yell at you again?"

"She's just argumentative, stubborn, and way too convinced that she knows everything about hockey," I complained, stepping on the gas.

"Notice how you didn't say she was wrong, though," Carter teased. "You sound pretty impressed with her, Callahan."

"Shut up, Carter," I said, hanging up before he could tease me any more, though his annoying laughter stayed with me all the way home.

The next morning at practice, I tried my best to forget about Sienna. But the second I stepped onto the ice, her words bounced around inside my head. During our five-on-five scrimmage, I took the puck down the left wing. Just like last night, two defenders rushed over to double-team me. My brain told me to shoot, but then I remembered Sienna’s voice: You're terrified of failing... you stop trusting your team.

At the very last millisecond, I fake-shot, spun around, and tossed a clean pass across the ice to Carter. He slammed it right into the back of the net.

"Great vision, Ryder!" our head coach yelled from the bench, clapping his hands. "That’s the exact adjustment we’ve been looking for!"

Carter skated over, giving me a high-five, but his eyes were full of mischief. "Wait... did Sienna Vale start coaching you from your passenger seat last night?"

"Keep talking and you're skating ten extra laps after practice," I growled, but my heart gave a strange little thump as I realized she had been completely right.

By late afternoon, after a long day of sponsor interviews and photo shoots, Carter dragged me to a private team celebration at a downtown hotel. I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, but he convinced me I needed to relax before our road trip started.

When I walked into the dimly lit venue, the first person I saw was Sienna.

She was standing near the tall glass balcony doors, away from the rest of the crowd. She looked small and isolated, holding her phone tightly against her ear. I paused, watching her. The angry, confident girl from last night was gone; instead, she looked deeply hurt and tired.

I took a step toward her, intending to tease her about my assist in practice today. But as I got closer, her teary voice carried across the quiet space.

"I can't keep doing this, Mom," Sienna whispered into the phone, her voice cracking with emotion. "I can't keep pretending that Julian and Dad actually support my dreams. They don't care about what I want. They just want me to stay quiet and stay out of the way."

My chest tightened hard.

Sienna quickly hung up the phone, taking a deep, shuddering breath. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek, straightened her spine, and turned around—stepping right into my path.