ryder
I’m Felicity.
Of course she is.
It makes perfect sense that her name means pure joy. I want to laugh when she tells me, but I’m still too angry. I manage to keep my rage contained beneath the surface, hidden away from her, but I can feel it charging through my system like an offensive tackle.
The moment I grabbed her arm, Iknew. She tried to conceal it, but I saw the way her face went pale, felt the sudden tension in her body. That kind of reaction doesn’t come from nowhere.
Someone’s hit her. Recently enough that she’s still flinching whenever any man moves too fast around her. Combine that with the lyrics to the song she was signing earlier — the most haunted, heartbreaking fucking melody I’ve ever heard — and I’m seeing red.
Who is this fucker who tore through her life like a tornado?
Father?
Friend?
Ex-boyfriend?
I want to ask who he is — hell, I want to track him down and show him what a real punch feels like. But I see the wild look in her eyes and know she’s already preparing to bolt. One more push, she might never speak to me again.
So, I bite my tongue and bide my time.
Not now. Not here.
But someday — somedaysoon— she’s going to tell me the story of who she is, and where she came from, and what she left behind.
I stare at her, barely breathing. “Felicity.”
Some of the fear goes out of her eyes when I say her name. I take an tentative step closer. “It’s nice to meet you. Officially.”
She doesn’t return the sentiment, but a small smile blooms on her face. It’s such a sweet sight, it’s almost enough to make me forget how shitty my night has been up till this point.
“It’s getting late. You should get going.” I glance at the staff parking lot, but it’s empty. “Is your car here?”
“I don’t have a car.”
“You’re not walking home alone at this time of night.” I glower at the thought and, without thinking, I reach out and take her hand. “Let’s go.”
She doesn’t flinch this time when I touch her. She actually lets me drag her a half-dozen steps before she digs her heels in. “Where, exactly, do you think we’re going?”
“I’ll walk you home. Or, at the very least, split an Uber with you. I’ve got a loft right by the river that I share with Linc and Aiden, but I don’t mind riding with you.”
Her eyes widen. “Never would’ve pegged Ryder Woods as the chivalrous type.”
“I don’t have a chivalrous bone in my body,” I assure her. “My motives are purely selfish.”
“How so?”
I get to spend more time with you, I think but don’t say.
“I get to crawl into my bed without worrying you’ve been abducted by a serial killer. Can’t have that on my conscience, sweetheart. Fucks with my beauty sleep.”
“Oh, and you needsomuch of that.”
“A solid eight hours. Nine, if I’ve got a gig the next night.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, rest assured, I’m not walking anywhere. Zero chance of abduction.”