13 - The Ultimatum

Ryker's POV

The look on Chase's face was worth it.

I watched him stand there, his jaw tight, his hands shoved into his pockets. He'd been about to ask her out. I could see it in the way he leaned in, the way he smiled at her, the way he thought he had a chance.

He didn't.

I walked away from Nova's desk without looking back. I didn't need to look. I knew she was staring at her phone, trying to figure out what just happened. I knew Chase was watching me leave, trying to figure out the same thing.

The stunt wasn't about her number. I already had her number from the school directory. I could have called her anytime, the stunt was about something else.

I wanted to see her off balance. I wanted to remind her that I knew things. That I could disrupt her carefully constructed plan whenever I felt like it.

I wanted to piss off Chase.

Mission accomplished on all fronts.

The hallway was crowded. Students pressed past me on their way to class. I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and kept walking.

Then my phone buzzed.

Principal's office. Now.

It was a text from the front desk. No explanation. No context. Just an order.

I knew what this was about before I even reached the office door.

____________

My grandfather was already seated when I walked in.

He sat in one of the chairs across from Principal Michaels' desk, his posture rigid, his hands folded in his lap. He was wearing one of his expensive suits, the kind he wore to court. The kind that said I am the most important person in this room.

He didn't stand when I entered. He just looked at me.

"Sit down, Ryker." He said it like it was his office.

I sat.

Principal Michaels was behind his desk, his face carefully neutral. He looked uncomfortable. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

I knew that feeling.

"I heard from your principal," my grandfather said, "that you've been spending all your time here on a damned hockey rink."

I looked at Principal Michaels. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"That's not true," I said. "I attend all my classes."

"Then how do you explain this?"

He slammed a piece of paper on the desk. My assessment results. The one from yesterday and the one from this morning. The ones that showed two failing grades.

I stared at them. My mind went blank.

"Well?" My grandfather's voice was sharp. "Explain yourself."

"I... it's just..."

"You didn't fail one but two important classes, young man."

"Technically, I haven't failed yet. It's still just an assessment."

"Yet!" He slammed his hand on the desk. I flinched. "If you continue like this, you won't even make it past this semester."

He leaned forward. His eyes were cold and hard.

"You'll probably end up like your golddigger father."

The words hit me like a punch to the chest.

My father. The man who had married my mother for her money. The man who had left as soon as the money he gained financial freedom. The man who had broken my mother's heart and then disappeared from my life entirely.

The golddigger. That was what my grandfather called him. That was what everyone in the family called him.

And now my grandfather was saying I would end up like him.

I opened my mouth but no words came. This happened a lot when I was with my grandfather.

"No grandson of mine will end up like that." My grandfather sat back. His voice was calm now. Final. "You're banned from the rink until I see improvement in your grades."

"What?!"

I was on my feet before I knew I'd moved. My chair scraped against the floor.

"But I have a game today. I've been training so hard for it. You can't do that!"

My grandfather didn't even flinch. He just turned to Principal Michaels.

"Tell him."

Principal Michaels shifted in his seat. He looked at me, then at my grandfather, then back at me. His face was strained.

"Uhh, Mr. Lennox. I understand your disappointment. I really do." He cleared his throat. "But today's game is important. Not just to Ryker, but to everyone at Crestwood Academy."

My grandfather's expression didn't change.

"I'm appealing," Principal Michaels continued, "not just on his behalf, but for the rest of the school. Just let him play this one match."

My grandfather was quiet for a long moment. The clock on the wall ticked. I could hear my own breathing.

Then he spoke.

"Fine."

I exhaled.

"One match." He pointed at me. "And then you don't see a hockey rink again until your grades are back up. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

He stood up and shook hands with the principal. He turned to walk away then paused at the door, his hand on the handle.

"I mean it, Ryker. I'm not going to let you throw your life away for a game."

He left.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Principal Michaels let out a long breath. He looked at me with something like sympathy.

"Ryker, I'm sorry. I didn't have a choice."

"Of course you didn't." My voice was flat. "Nobody ever has a choice when it comes to him."

I stood up and walked out.

__________

The game was that evening.

I played on instinct. On anger. On the weight of everything my grandfather had said.

My father was a golddigger. That's what everyone thought of him. That's what my grandfather would always think of him. And I was on the same path. Two failing classes. A useless sport. A future I was supposedly throwing away.

I couldn't think about it. If I thought about it, I would fall apart.

So I didn't think. I just played.

The ice was cold beneath my blades. The puck was a blur. The crowd was noise in the background, something I heard but didn't process. I moved on muscle memory, on years of training, on the one thing I'd always been good at.

We won.

The final buzzer sounded and my teammates mobbed me. They were yelling, laughing, slapping my back. Someone lifted me off the ice. The crowd was on their feet.

I should have been overjoyed. I'd scored the winning goal. I'd played the best game of my life.

But all I could think about was my grandfather's face. All I could feel was the weight of his words.

You'll probably end up like your golddigger father.

I couldn't play again. Not until my grades were up. And I couldn't get my grades up without help.

I needed a tutor.

The parking lot was almost empty when I was finally ready to leave.

And then I saw her.

Nova.

She was walking across the lot, her bag slung over her shoulder, her dark hair pulled back. She didn't see me. She was focused on something on her phone.

I stopped walking.

I thought about the locker. The red lipstick. The seven words that had shattered Harper Caldwell's composure.

I thought about everything I knew about her. The hideaway. The restaurant.

She owed me.

And now I needed something from her.

I watched her walk across the parking lot. She was a few cars away now. She still hadn't seen me.

I smiled.

It was time to collect.