Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(2)

Oh.

That is . . . not what I was expecting.

“I just got back today from spending the summer in Boston, so unfortunately, I don’t have any groceries right now.”

She smirks seductively. “That’s not the dessert I’m referring to.”

Yeah, it’s perfectly clear that’s not the dessert she’s referring to, but I was hoping for a “he’s fucking clueless and has no game, so never mind” kind of outcome.

But it’s once again one of those situations where it doesn’t matter if I say all the wrong things, or hell, if I don’t say anything at all. At the end of the day, I’m a professional hockey player and that alone gets me more first dates and overnight invites than I let anyone know about.

But I know what I’m looking for and this connection isn’t it.

“Chelsea, I’m—”

“It’ll be fun.”

I chuckle. “Chelsea.”

“You’re really going to say no?” She smiles knowingly. “Rio.”

She says “Rio” in a tone that may as well mean “you’re out of your goddamn mind to turn me down,” and I’ve gotten that tone from more women than I’d like to admit.

There’s no denying she’s a beautiful girl, and if I were the type to bring someone home without seeing a future, maybe I would.

But I’m not.

I discreetly pay the bill when it’s set on the table before saying, “Thank you for coming to dinner tonight.”

It’s then she realizes I’m serious about this date ending here. Her eyes slightly roll, but I don’t let that change my mind, and when she pulls out her phone, she types away at the screen without answering me.

“Should we get going?”

She doesn’t look up from her phone. “No need. I’m going to meet up with friends at a party around the corner.”

“Oh, okay. I picked you up, so I thought the least I could do would be to—”

Her smile turns pitying as she stands and slips her arms through her coat. “I made backup plans but have a good night alone, Rio. Thanks for dinner.” She waggles her fingers in a careless wave before slipping out of the exit she was eyeing earlier and leaving me alone.

Maybe I should feel shocked or offended, but it’s not the first time I’ve been left at a table by myself after deciding not to continue the night back at my place, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

But fuck it, this glass of red wine I’ve been nursing all night is delicious and I’m not embarrassed enough to let it go to waste. So instead, I sit back in my chair at my solo table and enjoy it while fishing out my phone, only to find it flooded with texts.



Zanders: Rio, did you make it back?

Indy: Please say yes! I miss you!

Stevie: Taylor asked where Uncle Rio was every Sunday dinner this summer. It was very sad. You should never leave again.

Kai: Welcome back, man!

Miller: Girls’ nights were not the same without you!

Kennedy: Is this the first Sunday dinner we’re all going to be at since May? Looking forward to seeing everyone.

Isaiah: But is Rio back? He’s not answering.

Zanders: He better be back. We have our first practice of the season tomorrow.

Me: I will not answer until every single person has asked about my well-being and I’m waiting on one . . .

Zanders: 

Kai: Some things never change.

Indy: Baby, that’s your cue.

Ryan: I’m not doing this.

Miller: He could be hurt or lost or stranded without food and water and we would never know because you won’t ask a simple question, Ryan.

Isaiah: I didn’t know the group adopted a puppy.

Stevie: He’s our puppy.

Kennedy: Our sweet little puppy that just wants to know if Ryan cares about him.

Me: . . .

Ryan: Fine. Rio, you back or what?

Me: Your care and concern for me hold no bounds. Honey, I’m home!

Ryan: I hate this.

Me: I know. The distance was hard for me too, Ryan.

Ryan: I’m leaving this group chat.



He does for only a split second before his wife adds him back.



Indy: See you all at our place on Sunday!



Regret churns in my gut that one of their houses wasn’t my first stop when I got back to town. Instead, I was home only long enough to drop my bags before picking Chelsea up for our date.

Part of me thinks I should stop trying. I’ve looked nonstop for years, ever since I moved to Chicago, and I’m starting to believe the real thing doesn’t exist anymore.

Then there’s the reminder that I got to watch eight of my friends find it over the years, so I know, firsthand, that it’s still out there.

I finish off my glass of wine before texting Indy separately.



Me: I’m stopping by on my way home.

Indy: Yes, please! Missed you. Don’t leave home for so long again.



“I take it the date didn’t go well?” Indy surmises as we sit on her couch in the living room.

Ryan comes back from checking on their sleeping two-year-olds before joining us for my debrief.

“Do they ever?” I ask in return.

“Where did you take her?”